The University of Evora, a beacon of learning run by Jesuit priests for over two hundred years, was closed in 1759 when the ideas of the Enlightenment were deemed to be too dangerous for the town’s faithful. As a result, the building to which Pableau had been invited, and in which Zurrabela was anxiously waiting, had been closed for thirty years. When Pableau arrived, Zurrabela revealed her location with the softest and sweetest bray that Pableau had ever heard. Walking blindly, he followed the thread of sound until he came upon its Ariadne, and the two entered the building and made their way down a long corridor to the University library…

Once they were alone with the books, Zurrabela closed and bolted the door. Then she lit a candle that bathed the intruders in a circle of light…

So that you know the risk you run, said Zurrabela, I must tell you who I am. I am María Diana Sofía, third cousin to the Queen of Portugal, who, in case of my unlikely ascension to the throne, is being tutored by a Jesuit priest posing as a servant. My true identity has been kept secret to protect me from being sequestered for the ransom I would bring, and for that reason you must always call me Zurrabela, the nickname given me shortly after I was born. Before this University was closed, the crestfallen priest that is now my servant managed to slip away with a master key that opens every door of the building. I removed that key from his chain so that we could meet here tonight. If all goes well, and if you so desire, we may meet again tomorrow, and the night after that, from midnight until three strokes of the bell, at which time I must return to my quinta, replace the key on the chain, and sleep until I am awakened. Our meetings must become known to no one, for I am born to bear the mantel of royalty, and cannot be seen in the presence of a bloodline beneath my own. For the duration of our encounters, we will have the company of one another, as well as the company of an estimable collection of literature from the countries bordering the Mediterranean. While I do not expect you to be conversant in all the tongues in which these works are written, I am myself am versed in Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, and of course Portuguese, and will gladly and patiently illuminate the magic of these pages so that, together, we might forge a bond made of wisdom and beauty. In return, I ask only to hear from you of the world beyond my quinta, of the travels you have undertaken and the adventures you have had, for I have lived a cloistered life, and my heart and mind are yearning for a draught of free and open air.



Pableau listened to all that Zurrabela had to say without interrupting, and when she was finished he said, My esteemed Zurrabela—and I use only the name you request—you will find in me a grateful student of all that you have to teach, and an enthusiastic reporter of the life I have lived. Although the better part of glory in the adventures I have known belongs to my best friend—captain of the vessels upon which I have served—nevertheless, the tales I have to tell are replete with generous quantities of joy, excitement, and despair, and will transport you far from the captivity you have borne. I promise, he concluded, that you will find me here, faithfully, each night at the stroke of twelve, and that I shall remain at your side until the third bell rings, at which time, as you have said, you must return to the cloister that awaits you. With this, Pableau offered Zurrabela his hoof, which she accepted by offering her own, and when that lovely extremity—object of his dreams—was placed thus before him, he took it gently, looked her in the eyes and said, “Contrato feito,” to which Zurrabela replied, “Contrato feito.”



Hmmm, thought Blurtso, looking up from the page, if Zurrabela is going to teach Greek and romance languages, and masterpieces of occidental literature, I’d better know something about those things. I wonder if Harvard offers classes in language and literature?