Falling Pomegranate Seeds: The Duty of Daughters (The Katherine of Aragon Story Book 1) (13 page)

‘To order the said Jews and Jewesses of our kingdoms to depart and never to
return.’
Mouth of ancient woe
~ Castilian proverb

B
eatriz loosened the reins in her hand, reaching down to pat the neck of her patient horse.
Such a pretty chestnut mare.
How I love to ride.
On a horse, she felt free, all the constrictions of her life falling away. Next to two horses, one white and the other black, Prince Juan waited for his sister, his hooded peregrine upon his wrist. As was often his wont when riding forth with his sisters, Juan robed himself in simple, though still costly, garb. He sought anonymity rather than proclaim to all and sundry his rank. Watching and waiting a short distance away, the prince’s companions, six noble born youths, sat on their own horses.

Hunting dogs lolled and scratched, brave and silly ones darted and gambolled in game between the horses’ legs, gaining curses from the young men each time they unsettled their mounts. The companions talked amongst themselves, remaining at the ready to ride at Prince Juan’s spoken command.

Behind Juan there was a sudden flurry of movement, flash of sleek colour, toss of chestnut head and canter of hooves. A stable boy rushed out with yet another saddled horse. Despite its leather hood, the falcon flapped its wings in fright and screamed. The stable boy reached the prince and fell to his knees, holding out the reins as if offering a gift of gold.

Murmuring his thanks, Prince Juan took the reins from the boy before stroking and calming his bird. The prince shared a smile with Diego, the horse-master. Catalina hurried to his side, with Maria de Salinas a few steps behind her. “What did I tell you, good Diego? I ask my sister to ride with me and again she brings her shadow.”

Dipping her head to Juan’s words, his sister beamed at him, tying the ribbon of her wide straw hat more tightly beneath her chin. “Shame, brother, you steal our mother’s own nickname for our cousin!” She glanced at Beatriz. “Latina told Maria to come. She would have been lonely otherwise.”

Glad of her hat’s deep shade, Beatriz grinned at Prince Juan. At fourteen he already dwelled in another world to the one her two charges knew at seven. But then he was the queen’s only son and heir to two kingdoms. Only within the inner circle of family and a trusted few did Juan show the boy he still was.

Seeing Maria falter and struggle for composure, Beatriz beckoned to her. She leaned from the horse and whispered close to the child’s ear: “Rest easy. He is only teasing because he loves you.”

Maria beamed and shuffled a little dance – knowing the truth of this.

The prince gave his falcon and his horse’s reins to his waiting page. From one wrist to the other, slate-grey feathers ruffling in protest and flecking with shimmering rainbows, talons seeking a perch, the hooded falcon screamed its long and piercing
kek.

Prince Juan mounted effortlessly. Mane bristling, the horse arched its neck and wheeled in a half-circle, ready at the lightest touch of a heel to burst into a gallop. The prince pulled the reins, bringing his stallion under control. Prince Juan’s black hose already showed a shapely, well-muscled leg from hard hours of dedicating himself to physical activities. Despite times of ill-health, his shoulders became broader and less boy-like day-by-day.

The horse-master stood with thumbs hooked into his wide belt, chewing mint loudly, watching the prince contain his spirited beast. Diego nodded and smiled with pride. As if as an afterthought, he gave a brief bow, spitting out mint leaves to the ground as he turned to help Catalina onto her horse.

Astride and settled, she gathered the reins in her tiny hands and straightened her back. Eager for her turn, Maria took the reins of the spare horse from the stable boy. Beatriz suppressed a smile, noticing the stable boy still gazing at the prince with unhidden adoration.

Snorting, the horse nosed Maria’s hip, pushing her back a step. The child looked into the mare’s liquid brown eyes, as if gauging its character, giggling when it nosed and pushed her yet another step. Warm brown eyes with long, thick eyelashes wooed little Maria closer. She patted its nose and rubbed the side of a hand between her gentle eyes, murmuring words of pleasure.

With a friendly nicker, the horse pranced and pricked her ears. Maria laughed again and stroked her neck. Closing her eyes, she fanned her fingers, stroking backward and forward on the mare’s neck. Her feet jigged in excitement, her hand on the mare’s neck, waiting for the horse-master to finish with Catalina and come to her. Beatriz shortened her reins, bettering her hold, also impatient and eager to begin their outing.

Diego expertly re-adjusted the saddle straps for Catalina’s shorter leg. Her feet, booted in soft leather, bore down in the gold, ornamented stirrups.

“You ride today Isa, my infanta. She’s more demanding than your usual mount, but you’re ready to meet the challenge. Now, let me see how you sit on her.” Diego, one of the best horse-masters in Queen Isabel’s kingdom, circled the horse, making certain Catalina held her reins not too tight or too loose. Bow-legged from a lifetime on horseback, he stepped back, his dark eyes going from horse to infanta. With a short laugh he relaxed, giving a gap-toothed smile before dipping his head to her. “Brave infanta – our noble queen will delight when I tell her what a good horsewoman she has in you. Take Isa around the yard, my infanta. See how she feels, while you let her get used to the feel of you in the saddle. Remember, don’t let Isa act outside her place. You’re her mistress, not the other way around.”

Diego lightly smacked Isa’s rump. The horse arched its neck and flicked its mane, edging forward and then a little backwards, its hoofs crunching into the stony earth. Laughing, Catalina leaned over and whispered in its ear. With a jubilant neigh and a shake of its head, the horse shifted and shuffled, cavorting almost on one spot.

The olive skin around his dark eyes crinkling, Diego laughed. As if remembering Catalina’s rank, he dipped his head, but then became master again. “Stop her playing, infanta. I’ll get Dońa Maria onto her mare.” Keeping an eye on Catalina, Diego stepped over to Maria.

Beaming, Catalina firmed her seat and pulled back tight reins. With a loud “Yah!” she dug in her heels, the horse answering the command with a sudden gallop.

Diego watched as Catalina concentrated, using all her strength to gain full control of Isa. She seemed so tiny on a horse standing at least fifteen hands. Beatriz released her breath when Isa tossed her mane, let out a joyous neigh, and settled into a steady trot, finally giving herself over to the fearless girl on her back. Diego turned, grinning up at Beatriz.

Away from their riding lessons, Catalina and Maria giggled at Diego’s green teeth. Whatever the season, he always chewed leaves of mint growing near the stables. He told the girls it kept him in good health. But the girls never laughed about what Diego taught them. He knew the name of every horse in the stable as if it was his beloved child. No matter what its temper, any horse, in the first hour or so of meeting Diego, became gentle, wanting to eat out of his hand. Whenever he rode, it was to see a centaur come to life. Beatriz doubted there was a horse alive that could or would throw him.

Queen Isabel employed the best teachers for her five offspring. Catalina and Maria were only seven, yet more than a year had seen them no longer needing their horses tied to training ropes, or riding their mounts around a pole in the stable yard.

Grinning at Diego, Beatriz clicked her tongue to her mount in encouragement, her eyes still on Catalina. The girl now cantered Isa in wide rings around the yard. Catalina’s smile of deep pleasure caused her cheeks to flush and her eyes to shine. Always, riding added to her natural prettiness.

Diego patted Maria’s mare. Nickering, the horse nosed his shoulder, greeting him with affection. He laughed, giving the mare another pat. “I see you’ve made good friends with Bela, little dońa. I thought you would. You go well with her. She ate the grass of your birthplace as a foal, and the best of your father’s stallions was her sire.”

“Not Hector?” Maria looked more closely at the animal. “Do you know her mother?”

Planting his calloused hands on his hips, Diego barked out a laugh. “What other mare would it be but the queen’s favourite, gifted to her by your good father?”

Maria almost danced with excitement. Diego winked and smiled again at Beatriz. “Up you go.” He gave Maria a leg up onto her mount.

Beatriz pulled down at the sides of her gown, ensuring her lower legs and ankles remained hidden, keeping her eyes on her two charges. Maria watched from her horse as Catalina reined in her mount, coming to a halt next to the waiting Diego. The horse-master rubbed the mare’s ears while murmuring love words to her. He nodded at Catalina. Grinning again, the lines around his eyes crinkled and deepened. “As I thought, Isa’s a good match for you, my infanta. You and she possess a similar spirit. She is loyal, brave and always protects those she loves.”

Juan trotted his stallion over to Catalina. “Where to today, my sister?”

After a moment, Catalina smiled anew. “Our good horse-master Diego has given me a demanding horse. Brother, what if we go for a demanding ride today?”

A demanding ride?
Beatriz sighed again. It promised to be another day when she would have little time for her books or study.

···

Away from the stables and prying eyes, Beatriz slowed her horse to an unhurried canter, trying to keep behind Maria, the prince’s companions and well behind Juan and his sister, allowing them to be alone together. Three of Prince Juan’s large hounds bounded past her.

Prince Juan half-wheeled his mount, looking across the green fields. Catalina did likewise, her ribboned sunhat slipping off her head, bouncing against her back. Juan pointed over to a low, green hill, a good ride from the earthen track they now followed. Holding her reins in one hand, Catalina stood up, balancing in her stirrups. She shielded her eyes and gave him a quick nod. The pair galloped off the road, heading across the fields to the hill, the prince’s dogs barked and followed after them.

One of Prince Juan’s companions swore. Another yelled, “Follow him.” Horses neighed, protesting as men kicked them into a gallop. Hooves pounded the earth, stirring and flicking up dust and dirt.

Beatriz’s frightened horse snorted and half reared, circling one way and then the other. By the time she had calmed it, she found herself left well in the wake of the other riders. She dug in her heels. Up ahead, a dust cloud was the only sign of her companions.
How fast they move across the fields!
Harder this time, she dug in her heels again and surged ahead with greater power. The valley dipped and a path opened up before her, long years of man and beast cutting the way clear.

A short distance away, horses and riders gathered close together. The race seemingly over, Beatriz saw why upon reaching her party. Dismounted from their horses, the prince stood protectively at the back of his sister and Maria. He held two snarling dogs by the leather of their jewelled collars while Catalina waited for an old woman to finish drinking from her flask. Nearby, a young woman, hair hidden under a matron’s veil, her tiny frame showing the swell of pregnancy, sat on the edge of a wagon’s broken wheel. Semi-shaded by the loaded cart, she wiped her wet mouth with her sleeve. Her worried eyes, large and blue, stayed on the men and their horses. Tied to the cart, a mule pulled tight its rope, backwards and forwards in a half-circle, hee-hawing at the sight of strangers.

Beatriz rode close to Catalina’s mount and slipped off her horse too. Getting her land legs back and grabbing her horse’s reins, she hurried over to her infanta.

“Do you need food?” Catalina asked the women.

“God bless you, child,” the older woman said. “There’s plenty for us to eat, just nothing left for us to quench our thirst. Our drinking jars broke when the cart fell into the ditch.”

Concern fluttered over Catalina’s face, darkening her eyes. Giving his dogs to his page, Juan came to her side. He tossed back his black fur cloak, freeing one shoulder. “You say your men went to the village for a new wheel?”

The young woman stared at the prince, her mouth wordlessly opening and shutting. Gazing fully at her, Beatriz realised her youth. Her skin, eyes and mouth, even the shape of the face seemed unformed and childlike. She seemed no more than a maid of thirteen, not much younger than Prince Juan himself. “My man, he –”

With the suddenness of an angry snake, one of the prince’s companions jerked his head to another and hissed, “Don’t they know whom they address? Why do we waste our time here?”

Fear widened the whites of the girl’s eyes. Someone spat, the explosion of sound breaking into the brief silence. Diego de Deza, Juan’s tutor, came to the prince’s side, speaking swift, soft Latin meant only for him. Beatriz listened, disturbed. “You think this wise, Your Highness? Our blessed queen, your most prudent and noble mother, gave the Jews a chance to do right by our land. These ones have clearly chosen exile. It is not for us to meddle.”

Men shifted and muttered angrily. The prince glanced over his shoulder and frowned, gesturing for them to desist. “Go, leave us.” Loud grumbles swelled before another dark glance from Prince Juan caused his companions’ protests to tamper off into silence. A few men shrugged and laughed. Behind Beatriz, one man murmured, “It is good he cares. A good king he’ll be one day.”

Two companions broke away from the group and returned to their horses. The rest soon followed. A flurry of vaulting feet, grunts and groans interwove with that of horse neighs and wickers, hooves shifting in the dry earth, as the prince’s companions and his small troop of guards remounted. One of the older men gave a jerk of his head. He whistled, wheeling his horse around. His fellows trailed after, moving farther away. The clearing now filled with a smaller number, Beatriz clasped Maria’s hand and Prince Juan again addressed the girl.

“I promise you my sister and I only want to help. You were saying?”