“By itself, nothing,” responded Father Baldwin, “but you will be filling the blank pages with the knowledge I will soon be imparting to you on a whole variety of subjects.”
The two girls were then put on a daily schedule that was heavy on learning, as well as their continued lessons on manners and etiquette, how to dance and ride, archery, proper dress, and household management. The two girls looked at each other and realized they would have little time for else.
A couple of days later, Lucía and Isabella were working in the vineyard with Don Fernando, who felt that physical labor was as important as mental labor. Also, it was important for Lucía to continue to learn about the family business. While they were busy at their tasks, Lucía heard what sounded like shouting in the peasant village, along with her father and Isabella. Lucía started to panic and thought it was another raid. Don Fernando, after he told Lucía and Isabella to stay quiet, ventured out of the row of grapes, up the incline beyond five more rows of grapes from where the group had been working, and onto vineyard road.
Suddenly, a man turned off the main road by the village and onto the vineyard road and shouted, “Jerusalem has fallen! Jerusalem has fallen!” as he galloped past Don Fernando. He watched the man as he turned down another side road a distance away at the other end of the vineyard and then made another turn and onto the Madrid road, which eventually led to the bridge over the River Duero and beyond. All the time he shouted, “Jerusalem has fallen!”
Lucía and Isabella came running up the incline after the man had passed and were reassured by Don Fernando there was no additional danger.
“Papa, who was that man?”
“I don’t know, Lucía,” said Don Fernando as his eyes still scrutinized the horizon where the man had just disappeared out of sight.
“Why was he screaming so loud?” interjected Isabella.
“To let us know that the Holy City has fallen,” said Don Fernando.
“Papa?”
“Sí, Lucía.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the Holy City has been captured by the Saracens,” said Don Fernando, somewhat lost in thought, “and I fear another crusade.”
“What’s a crusade, Papa?”
Don Fernando smiled at Lucía’s inquisitiveness. “Later, mi pequeño sol, but now it’s time to head back to the palace.” Both Lucía and Isabella mounted their horses, along with Don Fernando, and they headed home.
At supper, Don Fernando enjoyed much company, as Father Baldwin and Isabella had joined Lucía and Yamina as regulars at the head table on the dais.
Don Fernando turned to his right to speak to Father Baldwin. “I fear another crusade is at hand, Padre.”
“I quite agree,” said Father Baldwin in a gravelly voice. “I have witnessed and heard about the greed and avarice for the quest of land and power among certain Christian nobles in the Holy Land and the attacks on the caravans heading west by Christian knights. Certainly, this is not the type of behavior that would inspire continued peace in the region,” said Father Baldwin with a sly smile.
Within days, Don Fernando’s fear was realized, as priests and clerics were crossing Europe to find men to take up the cross and go on crusade to the Holy Land and free it from the Saracens who had captured Jerusalem.
Most people were alarmed at the fall of Jerusalem, except for Don Raimundo, the Conde of Donato. He had been planning for a long time an ambitious move that would propel him to the highest position in the land to become king, and perhaps this event might play into his hands. Don Raimundo had felt for many years that the Reconquista was moving too slowly under King Alfonso and therefore wealth and booty were eluding him. Raids along the border towns of al-Andalus were of little value since most had been well culled over time, and to truly gain any real wealth, a large force would be needed to penetrate the interior where the true treasures were hidden, such as in Seville or the real prize, Cordoba. Without the manpower or authority to do so, it remained, in his opinion, nothing but a dream.
First, he must take the throne before such an ambitious plan could be implemented, yet he should not appear too ambitious and raise any suspicions. Such a plan would require a great deal of gold. He would need to raise an army large enough to take and hold the major cities of the kingdom and to persuade the major noble houses to support him. Where would he find such wealth? Over time, he came to the conclusion the only way to accumulate the additional wealth needed to accomplish his objective was to seize the wealth of one of the wealthiest young nobles in the land—that of Doña Lucía Alvarado. But how would he accomplish this objective? He rationalized there would be only two ways to do so, either by marriage or by death. Unfortunately, the latter would most likely fall into play.
Don Raimundo was a patient man, having waited a long time for events to fall into play, and it was now the time to strike. He had to find a way to rid the king of his most trusted allies, mainly Don Fernando and Don Alfonso Coronado and, eventually, Ávila. The crusades would be this opportunity. The bishop of Segoia would be of help in this matter to convince the two men to take the cross and go to the Holy Land. He knew the bishop to be corruptible from his practice of skimming off the top of the collection plate each Sunday and during weekly services. He had an idea of what to do, which would work out satisfactorily for all involved, but first he had to have a meeting with the bishop, as this was a crucial part of his plan.
“The Bishop of Segoia,” said the servant as he announced the arrival of the bishop to Don Raimundo, who was seated at a table in the antechamber of the great hall.
“Ah, my Lord Bishop,” said Don Raimundo as he stepped away from the table to greet the bishop and kiss his ring. “Gracias for coming. I trust your short journey from Segoia was a pleasant one?”
“As pleasant as can be expected,” said the bishop.
“Some refreshments, my Lord Bishop?” asked Don Raimundo, who motioned to an awaiting servant.
“That would be delightful,” voiced the bishop, already smacking his lips.
Don Raimundo nodded to a servant. “Bring tapas, sweet tarts, and wine for the bishop.” The servant curtsied and left.
“What is this all about, Don Raimundo? You said it’s a matter of urgency.”
“Of course. Please sit down, and I will explain myself fully.”
The bishop listened patiently as Don Raimundo explained his plan to the bishop. “Now let me understand. You want me to persuade Don Fernando and Don Alfonso Coronado to take the cross and go to the Holy Land and for me to become your ally in a plan to take the crown?”
The conversation suddenly stopped, as the servant came in with tapas of olives, cheese, strips of sliced cured ham, sweet tarts, and wine. The servant poured two goblets of wine, curtsied, and left the room. It didn’t take the bishop long to help himself. As he took a piece of ham, the bishop said sarcastically with a slight laugh, “This separates us from our Jewish brethren.”
Don Raimundo did not think the remark humorous and was not in the mood for amusement as he tried to continue the conversation with the bishop, who kept feeding his chubby face. His face was so rotund that it appeared to turn his dark eyes into slits, which didn’t miss a crumb of the sweet tarts he quickly devoured. He had already stained his red garment with olive oil.
“My Lord Bishop, with all due respect,” said Don Raimundo, who was becoming irritated at the bishop’s eating habits.
“Of course, Don Raimundo. You must forgive me, but this is the first meal I have had all day,” said the bishop as he tried to talk while he drank his goblet of wine, which caused wine to spill from his mouth onto his garments, further staining it.
“Sí, I wish for you to be my