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[Ill.u.s.tration: PARK IN MADRID, STATUE OF KING ALFONSO]
Alfonso replied, "G.o.d forbid that I should approve such horrors!"
The next thing he knew, Alfonso's country was plunged into war. The rebels were to meet the King's men in conflict.
The night before the battle Alfonso, rest-less and unhappy, paced his chamber. Why must men fight? Why must they kill one another? The Prince loved power; but better than power, he loved peace.
Wherever he went, he always took along some of his books. Now upon the table lay several, and among them was "The Odyssey." Alfonso laid his hand upon his favorite work and was about to take it up when he let it fall again.
No, he could not read tonight. His heart was too heavy. He missed his sister and, too, he kept thinking of their future--a stormy prospect.
For Isabella no doubt would be forced to marry some distasteful n.o.ble.
And he? With enemies upon all sides, if he were not killed in war, he might well be murdered in his sleep.
Next day in full armor, his sword drawn, the boy King of Avila went out to meet his foe. Fighting bravely, by his soldiers, it is said that he was last to leave the battle.
[Ill.u.s.tration: BURGOS CATHEDRAL]
There came a time when Alfonso set forth upon a journey, accompanied by a group of n.o.bles. Among his traveling companions were several of the King's followers, one of them that same spy who had smeared poison upon the leaves of Alfonso's book.
As evening overtook the party of travelers, they drew rein in the town of Cardenosa, and planned to stop there for the night.
As usual, Alfonso had brought along his books. But too often had his enemies been disappointed, so now they planned a trick. It was a trick which would force the Prince into their cruel trap.
They removed all but one of Alfonso's books from his chamber. The one left was placed in plain view upon the table. It was "The Odyssey."
Wondering what had become of the others, but too weary to find out, the Prince settled himself to read before retiring for the night. As he opened the book he smiled, remembering Isabella and how she had always urged him to read something else.
Well, tonight he might do as he pleased, for he was quite alone. Tonight he might read "The Odyssey," which he had not opened for so long.
Page after page he turned with a finger moistened by his tongue. And an hour pa.s.sed.
Late during the night, a messenger rode madly into the town of Segovia where the Princess Isabella was living.
"The King of Avila is dying!" the messenger gasped. "He calls for his sister, the Princess Isabella!"
Isabella rode furiously through the night and when she reached Cardenosa, she was met by the Archbishop of Toledo. He held out his hand to her, and in his face there was pity and grief. Before he even told her, Isabella knew that her beloved brother was dead.
[Ill.u.s.tration: MIRAFLORES MONASTERY, BURGOS]
Some claimed that enemies had given him poisoned fish. Others believed that he had died of a fever. Still others told the story which you have just heard. But whether or not it is true will remain a mystery forever.
There is a wonderful cathedral in Burgos, whose Gothic spires point upward like lace fingers. They point to a hill above the city, upon which rests the Miraflores Chapel.
Inside this chapel is a beautiful statue of a boy. He wears a royal mantle and kneels before a praying desk. The boy is Alfonso.
When Henry died, it was the earnest little Isabella who became queen.
Today in the Cathedral of Granada--that white and gold and silver cathedral--are the tombs of Queen Isabella and her husband, King Ferdinand.
They are carved of marble, and Isabella's pillow sinks down deeper than Ferdinand's with the weight of her head. They say that this is because her head held more brains than his.
We know she was a wise, good queen and we love her because she helped Christopher Columbus and listened to his dreams.
[Ill.u.s.tration: TOMBS OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA, GRANADA CATHEDRAL]
But just suppose Alfonso had not died. Suppose, instead, that he had lived and ruled. Do you believe Alfonso would have listened to Columbus'
dreams and understood as did his sister Isabella? And, had he not, where should we be today?
CHAPTER X
A STOUT SWEETHEART
The sale of the Prince Alfonso brooch brought Pilar and her grandfather enough to live on for a week. Then once more Pilar was faced with having to give up the castanets.
Juan seemed eager to have them now. He said that the great dancing master had shown much interest in them.
This dancing master was the same one who had inquired about Pilar at the fiesta that night in Triana, though Juan, of course, did not know it.
At last the fatal day arrived when Pilar could no longer delay her visit to Juan's shop. What she would do after this last sale she had no idea.
Unless her grandfather's health improved so that he might work again, things looked black for both of them.
Pilar went out onto the balcony of her house. Girl-draped balconies are as natural in Spain as donkey-dotted roads and child-filled doorways.
Pilar gazed down on the street. The morning was golden. Church bells clanged, and a knife grinder was piping on an Arab reed. A broom-maker squatted on the pavement across the way.
Pilar's eyes were full of tears as she took up the castanets and went with them into her grandfather's room.
"I am going out, Grandfather," she said.
But she mentioned nothing about selling the castanets. She could not trust herself to speak. However, her grandfather saw them in her hands, and his old eyes brightened.
[Ill.u.s.tration: GIRL-DRAPED BALCONIES]
"Some day I shall tell you--stories--about--those--" he breathed. "Your mother--loved--them--"
"Do not talk now, Grandfather. It will tire you," said Pilar.
She wanted to be off, to have it all over with as quickly as possible.
She knew that if her grandfather told her a story about the castanets, it would be even harder to part with them. Poor Pilar! If she had listened to just one of those legends, she would not have dared to sell the wooden clappers.
"Good-bye, dear Grandfather."
She kissed him and left.
As she opened the gate that led out of the small court of their house, she ran into a stout, grinning boy.