1. A New Hope (December 1497)
Chapter One: A New Hope
December 8th, 1497
Alcalá de Henares
Madrid, Kingdom of Castile
The chapel in the Archbishop of Toledo's palace was silent as a crypt, save for the quiet prayers of its sole occupant. Shafts of winter moonlight slanted through the stained-glass windows, reducing the room to sharp abstracts of black and white.
The Succession of Castile and Aragon was hanging by a thread. It had been two months since Prince Juan, her beloved son, her angel, was called home by the Lord. Isabel of Castile had never felt her age before, but in the moment she and Fernando had received the missive from Salamanca, she'd felt as if she had aged twenty years. Juan's widow, the Archduchess Margaret of Austria, was now delivering her first grandchild... But Isabel felt no joy at the eminent arrival. No, she felt sick with worry. Should mother and child both perish, God forbid, succession rights would fall to her eldest girl in Portugal, then Juana and her Hapsburg husband should Isabella also join her brother in Heaven. Fernando would rather damn his own soul than see their crowns pass to their foreign son-in-law, and frankly, Isabel shared the sentiment....
No, Isabel rebuked herself silently. She should not think such thoughts in God's house. It was best for Margaret and her child to pray on their behalf. And so she had been, for the last 17 hours, ignoring the pangs of hunger, ignoring the ache in her knees from the cold stone floor. The verses flew from her lips, almost manic.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, preserve in my daughter the heart of a child, pure and transparent as a spring. Obtain for her a simple heart that does not brood over sorrows; a heart generous in giving itself, quick to feel compassion; a faithful, generous heart that forgets no favor and holds no grudge.
O great Saint Gerard, beloved servant of Jesus Christ, perfect imitator of your meek and humble Savior, and devoted child of Mother of God, enkindle within my heart one spark of that heavenly fire of charity which glowed in your heart and made you an angel of love. O glorious Saint Gerard, because when falsely accused of crime, you did bear, like your Divine Master, without murmur or complaint, the calumnies of wicked men, you have been raised up by God as the patron and protector of expectant mothers. Preserve Her Highness from danger and from the excessive pains accompanying childbirth, and shield the child which she now carries, that it may see the light of day and receive the purifying and life-giving waters of baptism through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and - "
"Majestad?"
Isabel's eyes flew open, the rosary ceasing to flutter in her hands. "Si?" Her tone was deceptively calm as she rose and crossed herself, the beads clinking softly between her fingers. Beneath her thick chemise and robes, her heart pounded a war anthem against her sternum.
Carmen, her most trusted midwife of old, stood before her, wizened hand clenching a walking stick. She was nearing seventy, God bless her, but despite the old woman's advanced age her mind was as sharp as ever. After almost twenty years of tending to Isabel's obstetric needs, she knew better than to mince words around the Law and Order Queen. "Her Highness the Princess of Asturias is safely delivered of a daughter. Granted, the child is a little early, but she's in perfect health otherwise."
All the breath left Isabel's body. A heavy weight seemed to lift off her shoulders. For a moment, she stood transfixed before slowly tugging down her veil as she turned back towards the alter. Graying, reddish-gold tresses shone in the dark, turned to beaten silver by the lunar rays. A silent benediction was poised on the Queen of Castile's lips as she bowed her head, tears shining in her blue-green eyes. Truth be told, she and Fernando had been praying for a grandson, but even a living girl was better than a stillbirth or a short-lived child..
The union of Spain, everything that she and her husband had sacrificed and worked towards, would no longer be in vain. By the grace of God, Aragon, Castile, and León would be safe...
December 8th, 1497
Alcalá de Henares
Madrid, Kingdom of Castile
The chapel in the Archbishop of Toledo's palace was silent as a crypt, save for the quiet prayers of its sole occupant. Shafts of winter moonlight slanted through the stained-glass windows, reducing the room to sharp abstracts of black and white.
The Succession of Castile and Aragon was hanging by a thread. It had been two months since Prince Juan, her beloved son, her angel, was called home by the Lord. Isabel of Castile had never felt her age before, but in the moment she and Fernando had received the missive from Salamanca, she'd felt as if she had aged twenty years. Juan's widow, the Archduchess Margaret of Austria, was now delivering her first grandchild... But Isabel felt no joy at the eminent arrival. No, she felt sick with worry. Should mother and child both perish, God forbid, succession rights would fall to her eldest girl in Portugal, then Juana and her Hapsburg husband should Isabella also join her brother in Heaven. Fernando would rather damn his own soul than see their crowns pass to their foreign son-in-law, and frankly, Isabel shared the sentiment....
No, Isabel rebuked herself silently. She should not think such thoughts in God's house. It was best for Margaret and her child to pray on their behalf. And so she had been, for the last 17 hours, ignoring the pangs of hunger, ignoring the ache in her knees from the cold stone floor. The verses flew from her lips, almost manic.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, preserve in my daughter the heart of a child, pure and transparent as a spring. Obtain for her a simple heart that does not brood over sorrows; a heart generous in giving itself, quick to feel compassion; a faithful, generous heart that forgets no favor and holds no grudge.
O great Saint Gerard, beloved servant of Jesus Christ, perfect imitator of your meek and humble Savior, and devoted child of Mother of God, enkindle within my heart one spark of that heavenly fire of charity which glowed in your heart and made you an angel of love. O glorious Saint Gerard, because when falsely accused of crime, you did bear, like your Divine Master, without murmur or complaint, the calumnies of wicked men, you have been raised up by God as the patron and protector of expectant mothers. Preserve Her Highness from danger and from the excessive pains accompanying childbirth, and shield the child which she now carries, that it may see the light of day and receive the purifying and life-giving waters of baptism through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and - "
"Majestad?"
Isabel's eyes flew open, the rosary ceasing to flutter in her hands. "Si?" Her tone was deceptively calm as she rose and crossed herself, the beads clinking softly between her fingers. Beneath her thick chemise and robes, her heart pounded a war anthem against her sternum.
Carmen, her most trusted midwife of old, stood before her, wizened hand clenching a walking stick. She was nearing seventy, God bless her, but despite the old woman's advanced age her mind was as sharp as ever. After almost twenty years of tending to Isabel's obstetric needs, she knew better than to mince words around the Law and Order Queen. "Her Highness the Princess of Asturias is safely delivered of a daughter. Granted, the child is a little early, but she's in perfect health otherwise."
All the breath left Isabel's body. A heavy weight seemed to lift off her shoulders. For a moment, she stood transfixed before slowly tugging down her veil as she turned back towards the alter. Graying, reddish-gold tresses shone in the dark, turned to beaten silver by the lunar rays. A silent benediction was poised on the Queen of Castile's lips as she bowed her head, tears shining in her blue-green eyes. Truth be told, she and Fernando had been praying for a grandson, but even a living girl was better than a stillbirth or a short-lived child..
The union of Spain, everything that she and her husband had sacrificed and worked towards, would no longer be in vain. By the grace of God, Aragon, Castile, and León would be safe...
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