“Why didn’t Papa tell me this?”
“Because he thought you too young at the time to understand, Lucía,” shot back Father Baldwin.
“I don’t think I understand why a mother would want to give her baby away unless it was unloved,” said Lucía sadly.
“Lucía, your grandmother felt your mother would be in real danger if she was raised at court. Her adopted parents could give her a life without worry or concern. As a result, your mother’s short life was one of happiness and fulfillment.”
“Mama died because I was born,” said Lucía, wiping away her tears.
“Lucía, that is not true. What happened to your mother at birth was God’s will and had nothing to do with you. Do you understand, Lucía?”
“All I know is that Mama is dead and would still be alive if I wasn’t born, and I will never forgive myself for that. I wish not to talk about this anymore.” Lucía rose from the bench and started for the door to leave when she heard Father Baldwin say, “Lucía, you should not feel guilty about your mother’s death. It was not your fault. You should never feel that way.”
Lucía turned her head quickly to listen to Father Baldwin and then just as quickly opened the door and left to play with Berenguela and Isabella in the courtyard. Father Baldwin was left in deep thought to mull over the conversation he had just had with Lucía.
Don Fernando and the army of crusaders finally arrived at Tyre in the Holy Land after having spent some time in Sicily to resupply and to conduct repairs from a bad storm. Unfortunately, events did not improve in the crossing from Sicily to Tyre, as once again bad weather took its toll with the loss of several hundred men and many horses. By the time Don Fernando reached the Christian port city, less than four thousand fighting men were left and about half of the followers who had accompanied the army. The combination of drowning and disease had taken its toll; as a result, they became part of the French army.
The forces marched along the shoreline to Acre, where heavy fighting against the Saracens was taking place to capture the city. It was after a day of heavy fighting that Don Fernando and Don Alfonso Coronado could finally relax after a successful repulse of the attacking Saracens. They found a spot under a palm tree to relax and to drink a skin of French wine, kindly offered to them by a French soldier who had fought bravely by their side that day. While they were relaxing, a servant came to them and said in Castilian that a messenger from Burgos was waiting to speak to them over the rise, which he pointed out.
“Why doesn’t the messenger come to us?” asked Don Fernando.
“It is a message meant for the both of you only and not to be overheard by anyone else,” said the messenger in an emphatic tone.
The two looked at each other, rose from their spot, and ventured in the direction that the messenger had pointed out to them. It was dark with only enough light from a half crescent moon for them to see their way. After having walked about a half mile, they slid down a steep sandy embankment. After having gained their footing, they were surprised to see no one there. Suddenly, in the dark of the night, they were seized upon by a half dozen Saracens. Don Alfonso Coronado drew his sword but was quickly cut down. Don Fernando had no time to act, as he was jumped upon first and quickly restrained.
It didn’t take long for Don Raimundo to show himself.
“Well, Don Fernando, how nice of you to come after my messenger’s biding. I was afraid that you might not have been so easily persuaded.”
“You sent the messenger?” asked Don Fernando, still somewhat in a state of shock after having been subdued so quickly.
“He must have been quite convincing,” said Don Raimundo as he motioned for one of the Saracens to check on Don Alfonso Coronado. The Saracen bent down over the body of Don Alfonso Coronado and, after having examined him, looked up and shook his head.
“Too bad, I rather liked Don Alfonso. He never gave me any trouble and was a pleasant fellow as well.”
At this point, Don Fernando came out of his momentary shock and disbelief and started to struggle. “Wait till I get my hands on you. I will kill you with my bare hands.”
“I don’t think so,” said Don Raimundo confidently, “not where you are going. You see, I had you tracked very carefully since you arrived in the Holy Land through my contacts. You will be spending the rest of your days in Baghdad as a prisoner. I hear that the city is a cultural center, so maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”
“Meanwhile, with both you and Don Alfonso Coronado out of the way, I can start a real strategy on taking the throne. But first, somehow I must rid myself of Ávila, and of course, let’s not forget your daughter, who holds the key to my rise to power with her fortune. Oh, so much to plan and so much to do. I guess I should get started,” said Don Raimundo in such an arrogant manner that it took four Saracens to hold Don Fernando down, even though his hands and feet were shackled. “Take him away,” said Don Raimundo as he motioned to the Saracens. “Enjoy the trip across the desert, señor. Adiós!”
“Leave my daughter alone! So help me, Raimundo, I swear, somehow I will make you pay!” exclaimed Don Fernando as he was in the process of being gagged.
While Don Fernando was being gagged and final preparations were being made for his departure, Don Raimundo took Don Fernando’s sword and sword belt to take back with him to Castile as the two other Saracens were busy preparing to bury Don Alfonso Coronado in an unmarked grave.
Although upset by her conversation with Father Baldwin, both Berenguela and Isabella were able to cheer up Lucía, as they all played in the warm sun. However, after having been outside for a while, Lucía ran in screaming in panic, followed by two guards who thought her in danger. Lucía had run back to Father Baldwin with small red spots on her face and thought it to be the plague.
Father Baldwin examined the spots and smiled. He glanced over at the guards who had followed her. “It’s all right,” said Father Baldwin. “You may leave us.” The two guards exited the room, mumbling something and then laughing as they went down the hall.
“It’s the plague! Quickly, call the physician!” cried Lucía in a panic.
Yamina came hurrying into the room. “What is the matter with Lucía?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “I heard that she was in some type of danger.”
“No danger at all,” said Father Baldwin calmly. “Now calm down, Lucía,” exhorted Father Baldwin in his typical gravely English accent. “Those red spots are not the plague. They are called freckles, which is typical of fair-skinned people like you who get too much sun without wearing a hat.” Father Baldwin tickled her chin, which caused Lucía to giggle. “They most likely will go away after a while.”
“Freckles?” repeated Lucía. “I have never heard of freckles before. Well, I guess I should wear a hat then.”
Yamina had listened to the conversation. “My word! Freckles of all things? And I thought she was being murdered.” With that comment, Yamina left the room.
“Gracias, Padre,” said Lucía, who felt both embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.
“It’s all right, Lucía. Don’t look so ashamed. You didn’t know.”
Lucía nodded her head and then went to get her hat.
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