Читать книгу The Valley Beyond - T. A. Nichols - Страница 9

Chapter III

Don Fernando was seated at a table on the dais in the anteroom of the great hall, grief-stricken over the death of his young wife. As he moved sundry documents around the large oak table, he noticed a black silk bag under a scroll. A saddened smile came to his face, as he opened the bag and emptied the contents on the table. It contained a necklace that was purchased from an Arab merchant from Cordoba to celebrate Lady Margaret’s fifteenth birthday, but Don Fernando never had the chance to present it to her due to the battle in La Mancha.

As he examined the piece, he started to reminisce how he and Lady Margaret had met and the odd circumstances that surrounded her birth. Lady Margaret was actually born in Poitiers in 1168 and was the daughter of King Henry II of England and Queen Eleanor. At the time of her conception, according to what was told to Don Fernando, Queen Eleanor had been escorted to Poitiers by King Henry after she had agreed to a separation and left there as Henry continued his business in the realm.

Unfortunately, over the years of her marriage to King Henry, she had developed much enmity toward him, especially due to his philandering. However, Queen Eleanor found herself pregnant again after she had become estranged from the king. After her son John had been born, she vowed never to have any more children, so this truly disturbed her. She already had little to do with him due to the animosity she had felt against King Henry, and now here was another child due to a lack of discretion on her part. What to do?

Eleanor had remembered her friend from England, the Lady Jeanne, Countess of Bickford, and her husband, Sir Charles de Crécy, Duke of Pomeroi. Lady Jeanne was barren, and her infertility became a major source of unhappiness, as no heir had been produced in their marriage. So Queen Eleanor cleverly devised a plan. Very early on, Eleanor made arrangements with Lady Jeanne to disappear from public view on the ruse of an alleged pregnancy. Eleanor would feign illness and would also disappear from public view while she stayed at the palace in Poitiers. All personal servants would be sworn to secrecy upon pain of death.

Upon the birth of the child, a certificate was issued that showed the nascence of Lady Margaret Clare d’Anjou, the daughter of the king and queen of England, and witnessed by several notables and close friends of the queen at her court. Three copies of the document were made: one kept by the royal house, the second sent to Rome to record the royal birth, and the third given to the Crécy. No public record of the birth was filed, which meant she did not exist.

As soon as the documents were signed, the child was whisked away in secrecy, accompanied by a nurse who doubled as the mother and a trusted court official who doubled as the father. From Poitiers, they traveled to Pomeroi, north of Paris, to the court of Sir Charles and Lady Jeanne de Crécy. Upon arrival in the dead of night, Lady Jeanne pretended to go into labor with a midwife present. After a time, the midwife came out of Lady Jeanne’s bedchamber holding the child, who was presented at court as Lady Margaret Clare de Crécy, daughter of Sir Charles and Lady Jeanne. A birth certificate was issued in her name. Queen Eleanor had already sent a letter to Pope Alexander with a complete explanation of the ruse, which expressed fear for the life of the infant if she was known to be the daughter of King Henry and a possible contender for the crown of England.

Lady Margaret had had a normal childhood in Pomeroi. The grounds of her childhood home contained several acres of apple orchards, which were used for income. She was a happy child and would often be seen running among the trees and helping with the fall harvest. When Margaret was nine, Lady Jeanne died, and Margaret inherited her title as Countess of Bickford, with the permission of King Henry.

When Margaret reached the age of twelve, due to the upcoming dynastic struggles, it was decided for her protection that she leave France, out of the range of King Henry’s sons, who by this time knew of Lady Margaret’s existence. A marriage was arranged between Lady Margaret and Conde Don Fernando Alvarado of Segoia through King Henry II and King Alfonso VIII of Castile and Toledo, King Henry’s son-in-law. Lady Margaret was told of her true identity, and arrangements were made for her sojourn to Castile.

In the spring of 1181, Sir Charles de Crécy set out with his daughter to the city of Segoia in Castile. After several months of traveling, they reached the city and into the welcoming arms of Don Fernando Alejandro Diego Alvarado de Martínez, Conde of Segoia.

When he first laid eyes on Lady Margaret exiting her transport, Don Fernando remembered a young countess of magnificent pulchritude. Her oval face, wide smile, and blue eyes reflected the very depth of the beauty of her soul. Her reddish-blond hair that framed her face only served to enhance her indisputable charm and beauty. However, he remembered when he was introduced to his bride-to-be by Sir Charles on the day of her arrival how shocked he was that such a beautiful mature-looking creature was only twelve years old, a mere child. He was twenty-one.

But notwithstanding, within weeks of her arrival, Don Fernando and Lady Margaret were married at La Catedral de Santa María de las Montañas in the city of Segoia, followed by a banquet that lasted several days and a tournament where the dashing young Don Fernando displayed his prowess. Don Fernando smiled as he remembered Lady Margaret’s infectious laughter when he lost one joust and was dragged by his horse on his seat out of the tournament.

Even though it was love at first sight, it was decided, due to her age, that they wait a couple of years before consummation of their marriage. During this time, Lady Margaret enjoyed the companionship of what she called her dashing young warrior. Her older sister, Queen Leonor, enjoyed her company immensely, as she was intelligent and quite engaging in conversation. Often, they would be joined by Doña Juana Mendoza, a good and trusted friend of the queen.

Lady Margaret enjoyed her new exotic life in Castile but did miss the cool summer breezes of home and especially her horse, Gelder, which was not allowed to make the trip, as Lady Margaret was given her own mount. Treated royally by Don Fernando, her life was easy. However, Lady Margaret did enjoy staying busy and was often seen in the vineyard helping her husband with the annual harvest. Also, she performed flawlessly in fulfilling her other duties as condesa.

In late January 1183, Lady Margaret became pregnant and voiced her fear to her sister, Queen Leonor, and Doña Juana Mendoza, a good friend, of a premonition that she would not survive childbirth and would succumb in the ordeal. Both women thought her fears were utter nonsense, but Lady Margaret was adamant and made sure that her husband was not aware of her fear.

Suddenly, Don Fernando was interrupted from his deep thoughts and grief by a voice that startled him. He slowly put down the necklace, raised his head, and languidly laid eyes on a figure of a man dressed in black. It was Don Raimundo Ortega Díaz, the Conde de Donato, a neighboring condado bordering the Condado of Segoia. Don Fernando had not heard him enter the anteroom to the great hall.

The relationship between the two condes had been strained for some time due to a land dispute. The land in question included several thousand acres—or to be precise, twenty-five square miles—and a castle that Don Raimundo seized and claimed as his own. Apparently, the claim was based on a past document that was dated several hundred years before and conveniently discovered in a wall of his palace during a renovation. Don Fernando believed the document to be a fraud, but Don Raimundo always had a knack for protecting his own interests, fraudulent or not.

Don Fernando did not go to war with Don Raimundo over the land in question due to the fragile relationship that existed between the nobles in the kingdom, which could have led to an all-out civil war to the benefit of the Moors. In order to keep the peace among his high-ranking and most trusted nobles, King Alfonso made Don Raimundo pay what amounted to be a token payment for the land, which was only a fraction of the true value of the rich farmland that was seized.

It should be noted that Don Raimundo had the love of the king due to his prowess in having helped the young teen defeat his enemies who vied for the kingdom after King Sancho’s death and thus helping him claim the throne. As a result, King Alfonso, due to the proven loyalty of his good friend, was blind to his sometimes treacherous behavior. It also had been rumored that Don Raimundo poisoned his own brother to inherit the Condado de Donato, and he married his sister to a nobleman so far in the north of Germany that it would take a lifetime for her to find her way back home.

Don Fernando, still seated at his worktable on the dais, appeared across the table with a face full of anger.

“What do you want, Raimundo?” asked Don Fernando abruptly.

“I came to simply offer my condolences on the loss of your wife. I happened to be in Segoia on business and at the tavern nearest the palace when a servant burst in and stated loudly that the condesa had died in childbirth. Since I had concluded my business, I decided to come directly here,” he exclaimed, with his dark piercing eyes showing little emotion.

Don Fernando rose from his seat and, with his hands rested on the table, bent over and gave his guest a choleric look.

“No reason to look at me in such a harsh manner, señor. I came as a matter of courtesy to pay my respects.”

“Respect?” responded Don Fernando. “Do you really expect me to believe that you have respect or care for anything else besides your own self-aggrandizement?”

Don Raimundo raised his eyebrows, turned, and started to walk away, irritated by Don Fernando’s remarks. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, turned, and faced Don Fernando. “I came here in good faith to pay my respects to a young woman for whom I had the deepest respect and admiration for both her loveliness and her pleasing temperament, not to be chided like some small child.”

As Don Raimundo turned away again, he heard Don Fernando shout loudly, “And why weren’t you at La Mancha? The king could have used you to control the right flank, and maybe Don José would still be alive.”

“I shall overlook your remarks, Don Fernando, due to your loss. However, they do sound like some type of accusation that I find both insulting and troubling. I merely came to hold out my hand in the spirit of sympathy and compassion, but since you have decided to bite it off, it is time for me to leave. Good day, señor,” said an agitated Don Raimundo, who opened the door and left.

Don Fernando sat down at his desk and poured a cup of wine. Queen Leonor entered the room.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Fernando.”

“Not in the least, Your Highness,” replied Don Fernando as he rose from his chair and left the dais to greet the queen.

At twenty-one years of age, the daughter of King Henry II of England was as beautiful as she was charming. He could not help but gaze upon her regal yet enticing face framed by a white wimple. Her white bliaut featured a low neckline, the sleeves, the hem, the belt, a scarlet background emblazoned with yellow lions, the heraldic emblem of her family.

Was this the same twelve-year-old princess who had come to marry his king to cement an alliance between England and Castile and was homesick in being in a foreign land with its different customs? She had truly grown into her role as queen, thought Don Fernando.

“I was just greeted by that sinister-looking Don Raimundo, who appeared to be in a hurry to leave the palace. Be careful, Fernando. I don’t trust him despite the fact that my husband holds him in such a high regard.”

“Believe me, I neither trust nor hold him in any regard. He is simply an opportunist with a despicable nature,” said Don Fernando, who had turned to pour a silver cup of wine for his guest.

Don Fernando handed the cup to Queen Leonor. “Here, drink this, Your Highness. It is Segoia’s best and will cure any ills.”

“Except a broken heart. Nothing can cure that, except time itself, I’m afraid,” said the queen as she carefully sipped the wine.

“You look tired, Your Highness. Why don’t you rest here in the palace before returning to Burgos?”

Queen Leonor’s eyes were red and swollen, and tears ran down her cheeks as she thought about her sister, who would be unknown in history due to the circumstances of her birth, yet known to her real family, many of whom she had had never met.

“Oh, I am so angry at my mother and saddened that she hated my sister so much as to give her away. People are not objects that you can give away like a necklace or a gold coin,” cried the queen, wiping her eyes with a piece of linen.

“But she did have a happy childhood. She told me many times,” said Don Fernando as he reached over to take the cup from the queen.

“Well, that’s a godsend for sure,” said the queen with a slight smile.

The queen pulled herself up in the chair and turned her head toward Don Fernando, who was seated next to her. “I’m afraid that I have been selfish, Fernando, going on without regard to your feelings. How are you doing under the circumstances, and is there anything I can do to help?”

“Frankly, I don’t know what I am going to do without her. Not only did she take care of me but also the household staff, which she ran so smoothly. She was a natural with people and made everyone feel at ease. All of Segoia loved her. She had won their hearts over such a short time and will never be forgotten.”

“Have you discussed the funeral arrangements with the bishop?” asked the queen.

“The bishop! That fat pompous cleric! No, I’m going to ask Father Piña, her confessor, to take care of the arrangements. However, there will be a commemorative Mass at the cathedral, and I am going to commission a sarcophagus with an effigy of Lady Margaret to be built and placed in the crypt of the chapel here in the palace.”

“And the baptism of my niece?” asked the queen.

“Within a couple of days, Your Highness, when she will also be introduced to the people of Segoia.”

“Have you decided on her full name yet, Don Fernando?”

“Sí, I believe I have. She will be named Doña Lucía María Margarita Diega Alvarado de Crécy, the Duchess of Pomeroi and the Countess of Bickford, the titles from her mother’s inheritance.”

“She is also an Anjou, from my family’s household, and this must also be added to her name as well,” added the queen.

“Of course, Your Highness,” said Don Fernando.

A couple of days later, Doña Lucía was introduced to the people of Segoia in a ceremony following her baptism on the steps of the cathedral, and alongside Don Fernando, who held the infant, were King Alfonso, Queen Leonor, the bishop of Segoia, and Father Piña. When her name was announced, the crowd roared with approval. Even the baby, Lucía, after having had been held up to the crowd for all to see, appeared to have given a smile of approval by kicking her little legs in the excitement of the moment. She was a beautiful child with long blondish-red hair and blue eyes, which held a hint of mischievous. The queen predicted to Don Fernando that her daughter would be a handful, given her mother’s beauty and her father’s stubborn nature.

Not noticed in the crowd, however, was Don Raimundo, who gave a sinister smile upon the introduction of the future condesa. A sense of foreboding was in the air unbeknownst to Don Fernando. That sinister smile, along with the evil behind the dark penetrating eyes, was a precursor of what was to come.