“Champagne and ghosts, on the other hand—that only happens in this cellar.”
Alejandro raised his glass and studied the pale liquid. The descending bubbles tickled his nose pleasantly, and he could imagine that it would cause a sort of little explosion on the tongue.
He was wrong.
There was even such a lack of explosion on the first sip, the taste was so flat, and the bubbles so devoid of any impact that Alejandro and Jesús, disappointed, looked at each other from under their brows.
“Just wait a moment,” said Paulus, with the indulgence of the initiated for the erring ways of the layman.
And indeed, the marvel began to work its magic, for the two men were overcome by a sensation of lying in the grass, their eyes riveted on the heavens on one of those days when fate is affable. The earthy taste in their mouth harmonized with the celestial lightness of the champagne until it released a euphoria whose substance they would have found difficult to describe.
“This is the beneficial effect of the alliance between earth and sky,” said Petrus. “As the bubbles head toward the bottom they preserve the celestial value of the wine but multiply its earthy value.”
After smiling at his glass, all tenderness, he added:
“Although there is not much you can do if the substance you start with is mediocre.”
When the first glass was empty, Alejandro and Petrus smiled at each other, and Jesús noticed the redhead’s beautiful, thoughtful gray eyes.
“How did you get here?” he asked.
“Over the bridge,” replied Petrus. “The bridge that joins our world to yours.”
Then, after a moment’s silence:
“To you, it’s invisible.”
“Are you dead?” asked Jesús. “Are you ghosts?”
Petrus looked at him, surprised.
“I don’t think ghosts drink champagne,” he said.
“If you haven’t come from the other life, where have you come from?” asked Jesús.
“There is only one life, and it encompasses the living and the dead,” answered Petrus. “But there are several worlds, and our worlds have been communicating for a long time. In reality, the first crossing of the bridge took place here in Yepes, although we only found that out yesterday.”
Picking up the champagne bottle, he added:
“I have a long story to tell you, so it deserves another little drop.”
“Can you tell us the name of your country?” asked Alejandro.
“We call it the world of mists,” answered Petrus. “The world of mists, where the elves live.”
There was a silence.
“Elves?” said Jesús. “You come from the world of elves?”
He began to laugh.
“Or maybe you yourselves are elves?” asked Alejandro without irony.
Jesús looked at his general as if he were a hen wearing a wig.
“That doesn’t strike me as any more surprising than all the rest of it,” said Alejandro in response to his gaze.
“We are elves,” Petrus confirmed, “yes, we are.” And to Jesús, tactfully: “I see you are somewhat surprised, so allow me to pour you another glass.”
He filled his glass and, with a slight tilt of his chin, motioned to Paulus to fetch another bottle.
“Another bubble?” asked Paulus.
“Allow me to offer you one of my favorite vintages,” said Alejandro pleasantly, as if the previous bottles had come from some unknown reserve.
He headed toward the back of the cellar.
“I thought elves lived in the far north,” said Jesús. “The far north of sagas and legends.”
He looked at the glasses lined up in front of him and added:
“And that they didn’t drink.”
“You also believe that God the father lives in heaven and that he doesn’t drink,” answered Petrus.
On seeing Jesús’s horrified expression, he added:
“I’m not saying he drinks, I’m not saying he drinks. Simply, we all know that the spirit of the world doesn’t have a beard and isn’t ensconced on a throne on a huge pink cloud.”
Jesús looked just as horrified, but Alejandro, coming back from the depths of the cellar, distracted them.
“Interesting,” he murmured, setting a bottle on the barrel.
Petrus leaned over to read the label and smiled.
“Amarone,” he said. “The wine of stories.”
Marcus frowned.
“We’ve run out of tea,” he said.
“Such improvidence,” said Petrus, still smiling.
He looked up and seemed to be addressing someone invisible:
“You will bring us some, won’t you?”
“Was that tea in your little flask?” asked Alejandro.