While Don Fernando and Zito discussed the state of the vineyard, Lucía went over to a row to examine a cluster of grapes, pulled a grape off a cluster, wiped it off on her garment, and ate it.
“Did that taste sweet, Lucía?” asked Don Fernando, who surprised his daughter.
“Somewhat,” said Lucía.
“Good,” responded her father. “That is what we look for in checking whether grapes are ripe enough for picking.”
Don Fernando examined the grapes at hand and showed Lucía the color they should be when ripe, and then he gave one to Lucía and tasted one for himself. Lucía finished chewing on a grape but was curious as to whom Zito was.
“Papa?”
“Sí, mi pequeño sol,” said Don Fernando, who had bent down to examine another cluster of grapes.
“Who was that man you were speaking to?”
Don Fernando turned to his daughter and responded, “That was Zito, the peasant leader of the village.”
“What does he do?” asked Lucía, who was stuffing her face with another grape.
“His job is to maintain the vineyard and make sure the peasant workers are properly doing their job. He is responsible for the weeding, the grafting, and the picking of grapes, as well as the proper making and storing of the wine once it is made.”
“Why is the top of his head bald like Father Piña?”
“Because Zito was a former monk.”
“What is a monk, Papa?” asked Lucía.
“A monk lives in a monastery, gives his life to God, and helps the poor. They live in poverty and have very few possessions.”
Lucía bobbed her head and made a face that manifested understanding.
“Zito is very knowledgeable about the growing of grapes and the making of wine. I have deep respect for his judgment, which someday, perhaps, you will also have as well.”
“Papa?”
“Sí, Lucía,” answered Don Fernando, who was beginning to get annoyed at so many questions but felt it important to answer them.
“What does highborn mean? Was I born in the sky? I thought Mama was lying on a bed when I was born?” asked Lucía, who showed concern.
Don Fernando laughed. “Lucía, it is only an expression that means that you are of noble birth and destined for leadership someday as a condesa.”
Lucía nodded in understanding but made a face that indicated not completely. “Papa?”
Don Fernando interrupted her, “Lucía, why don’t you save your questions for later so we can concentrate on the matter at hand—the picking of grapes.”
Lucía agreed, and Don Fernando explained in detail the procedure of picking grapes by using a device called a pruning knife, which looked like a small scythe. He showed her how to cut the grape clusters and then put them in a woven basket next to him. Once the basket was filled, it was put at the head of the row, which was wide enough for a mule cart to come by to pick it up, and take it to the winery for crushing and to exchange it for an empty one.
Lucía was also introduced to several of the peasants who were working in the vineyard. They would curtsy or bow to Lucía and tell Don Fernando how absolutely beautiful she was and how much she resembled her mother, whom they all adored. Lucía was happy being compared to her mother.
After a while of helping her father pick grapes, she noticed several of the children who were her age playing across the road, rolling a cooper’s hoop with a stick down the hill. “Papa, may I play with the children across the road?”
“I see no reason why not. You have been quite helpful today putting the grape clusters in the basket. We’ll continue with this tomorrow,” said Don Fernando, who wiped his brow and stripped down to his untied white shirt.
“Gracias, Papa,” said Lucía, and she quickly ran off to join the group of children who were having races with their hoops.
“Lucía, make sure you remain in my view. Don’t wander off!” shouted Don Fernando.
“I won’t. I promise!” yelled Lucía on the run.
Don Fernando wanted Lucía to get to know the people of the village, and interacting with them was a good way of doing so. Yet he was very mindful of Queen Leonor always reminding him that Lucía was the granddaughter of a king and should not be allowed to take such liberties with peasants.
Don Fernando watched with a smile as Lucía fit in with the other children and, within a short time, was happily rolling a hoop down the hill with a stick, along with the other young peasants.
Don Fernando, as his father and grandfather once did, took pride in the hands-on approach in maintaining a vineyard, and he hoped to encourage Lucía to do the same.
As the weeks passed, Don Fernando each day would interrupt her studies and would show Lucía a different part of the operation to help reinforce her knowledge of the family business that one day she would inherit. Lucía also enjoyed her excursions with her father and, after a while, began to show some knowledge of what needed to be done. Such was the intellect of a bright young lady.
Lucía awakened before dawn and looked forward in going to the vineyard to help her father with the harvest. Most of the vineyard had been picked; only the last quarter remained. Lucía, with the help of Yamina and a couple of servants, got dressed, and then it was off to the chapel for morning prayers, after which downstairs to the great hall for breakfast. Lucía had a simple breakfast of toasted bread with honey, an orange, and her favorite, warm almond milk.
When Lucía arrived at the stables, her father was talking to Captain Gómez and overheard a small part of the conversation about a Moorish raid that had taken place at a small village ten miles to the south of Segoia. “Send out a couple of scouts to the south and see if they can locate the raiding party. Also notify the Grandmaster of the Order of the Christian Knights of Segoia to be prepared for any action that may arise. Be sure to send aid to the village. If you need me, I’ll be in the vineyard with Lucía.”
Captain Gómez nodded to Don Fernando, turned, and noticed Lucía, to whom he gave a polite bow of his head; he then went back to his room in the stable, where he spent little time due to his responsibilities.
Captain Gómez was the military commander of the army of Segoia. He was in charge of the one hundred soldiers who guarded the city and the palace, which also entailed training men on how to fight in battle in case the need arose, either by order of Don Fernando or the king.
Personality wise, Captain Gómez was always stern and disciplined and not much in the way of socializing; he did not marry, as he had little time for a family and found children to be an annoyance.
“Papa, why doesn’t Captain Gómez ever smile? And why is he always so grouchy?” asked Lucía to her father, who was getting ready to mount his horse.
Don Fernando smiled as he mounted his horse and reached down for Lucía.
“He has a lot on his mind. He has a big responsibility to protect not only us but also the rest of the condado.”
“Papa?” asked Lucía as they were riding out of the stable. “I have another question.”
“No doubt,” responded Don Fernando, who snickered.
“Does Captain García own any other garments beside that stinky mess of metal he is always wearing?”
Don Fernando let out with a roar of laughter. “That stinky mess of metal, Lucía, is called a suit of chain mail and is worn as protection in battle. I also have a suit.”
“But, Papa, you don’t wear it all the time as he does.”
“Remember,