Senora de Silva: A Dark Gothic Fairytale

Once upon a  long time ago, in a country that is no more, stood a once grand decaying manor. It crouched like a contemplating stone troll surveying the despair of others in wry amusement. Drab weeds clothed the abandoned manor and pitted gray statues adorned it. If one was to open the great banded doors of this manor they would find nought but the echoes of a failed marriage, made of convenience and lived in destructive decadence. Mericless misery howled through the stone walls and sparse chambers within. Deep in it's heart lay two skeletons who are in endless embrace.

The wife of this unfortunate union was a faded rose by the name of Senora Eleanora De Silva and her husband the merchant Senor Marcus De Silva.  Senor  Marcus was man who was shrewd with money and gold. When people were in great need he would, with a genial wave of his plump hand, extend them a financial life line. Once their time of need had passed he would perch outside their abode and hold out that same plump hand for their hefty repayment of the gold.

Senor Marcus De Silva had heard it all before. "Senor De Silva, if we pay you our children will have nought to eat." or "Senor De Silva, our business shall fail and our employees starve should we pay your exorbitant interest." The Senor's heart was never troubled by the ramblings of the unfortunate beings who were desperate enough to seek his aid. Yes, he was a cunning man in all ways but one, and that was his selection of a wife.

 Many years prior, Senor De Silva had been doing business at the palace with young courtier who had borrowed money to fund his entrance into tourney so that he might win the heart of the beautiful Eleanora. The silly young thing had not only failed to win her heart, but he had also been injured in the tourney. The courtier could no longer move around with agility. The lad's once handsome visage had been hideously scarred when his visor had crumpled and slashed his face. Eleanora could not even look at him.  To be seen in his company would be an embarrassment. She simply pretended that the broken hearted youth did not exist at all.

When he pleaded with her to consider his suit she smiled and said "You are a brave boy. Unfortunately you are not of independent means. You still rely on your father. You are too poor to marry and too scarred for me to entertain myself with. I am sorry but this means that you are of no use to me and I beg you to pretend that our previous flirtation had never happened. You do understand don't you?" Eleanora understood that marriage was not an emotional matter but a relationship formed by dependence and need. She simply had no need of this courtier.

The wounded and bandage lad nodded sadly. Lady Eleanora had stroked his hand with a gloved finger, pushed an errant blond curl from his eyes and left him in his sick bed. She swept from the room and did not pause to look back. She  was a truly lovely creature to observe, her white blond hair had the quality of the finest silk. Her porcelain face glowed unmarred by wind, sun or rain yet a soft blush always rested upon her cheeks. It was her eyes however that drove poets of the time mad for they were of Sapphire with an inner fire, if one stared too long at those lovely blue orbs  they would see the hard bitterness contained within. Lady Eleanora wisely held gazes for but a second before she would drop her lids and let her long dark lashes cloak the ice inside her soul.

Despite his depressed state, in time the courtier was up and around. He had not taken but one step from his infirmary door, when who should be there lurking in wait, but Senor De Silva. Due to the large moneylender's low station he had previously been unable to see the courtier. He had spent many an afternoon waiting in the corridor and had witnessed the discourse between the courtier and Lady Eleanora. Senor Marcus De Silva thought that the whole episode was further proof that only money could be trusted. When he finally saw the young scarred man limp from his sick bed the Senor pounced upon him, " My young Sir, you owe me and I demand payment."