to cry, as if on cue with the death of her mother, which gave everyone in the room a startled chill. Don Fernando carefully picked up the child from the side of her deceased mother and held her in his arms. He tried to comfort her while walking down the steps of the platform.
“She must be hungry,” said the physician. He took the baby from her father. “Bring the child to the wet nurse,” said the physician to the nurse at hand.
Before she was able to leave the bedchamber, Father Sierra Piña, Lady Margaret’s confessor from the peasant village, came through the door. His face was thin and had a ruddy complexion, which appeared worn from years in the sun and highlighted by long strands of thin gray hair that fell from his tonsure down the back of his neck. He wore a simple brown hooded robe tied by a cord of hemp and walked with a slight limp.
“I came as quickly as I could, but it appears I’m too late.”
“Even in her present state of repose, she still needs you, padre.”
Father Piña shook his head in agreement and, with a slight smile, climbed the platform, stood over Lady Margaret and said several prayers in Latin. After the prayers, he gave her the final blessing of the church and put both her arms gently across her chest in a rest position.
As Don Fernando watched him in action, he quickly realized why Lady Margaret loved the simplicity of this truly holy and gentle man.
Don Fernando met him at the bottom of the stairs of the platform. “Gracias for coming, padre. I know in my heart that she is now truly at rest.”
“She was a wonderful young woman, Don Fernando, who was loved by all her people. The love of God was truly in her soul, and we can all do no less than to follow her worthy example.” Then Father Piña paused and, in a reflective tone, said while he rubbed his chin, “Strange that we had a conversation a couple of days ago where she had reservations about her life after giving birth, as if she knew she was going to succumb after the ordeal. I tried to reassure her that she had many happy years left, but she was adamant.” Then he noticed the baby in the arms of the nurse. “Is this the child, Don Fernando?”
“Sí, padre.”
While the child waited patiently to be fed in the arms of the nurse, Father Piña smiled at the infant and gave the child his blessing.
“You have a beautiful daughter, Don Fernando. I’m sure she will have a long and fruitful life.”
“Gracias, padre. I’ll take your statement as an omen for her future.”
“If I can do more for you, Don Fernando, you know where you can find me.”
“In the loft of the peasant village church, padre. Is that correct?”
Father Piña smiled, shook his head, and without another word said, opened the door and left the room.
As the nurse once again started out the door of the bedchamber, the queen entered the room and, having noticed the baby, said with a saddened heart, “I assume that this child is my new niece.”
After a courtesy with child in hand, the nurse responded, “Sí, Your Highness.”
“What is her name?” asked the queen.
“Lucía, Your Highness,” responded Don Fernando.
“Lucía,” repeated the queen as she gave the baby a kiss on her forehead. “What a beautiful name for such a beautiful child. And now I wish everyone to leave so I may have a final moment with my dear sister.”
“Of course,” said Don Fernando, and he left the bedchamber along with the physician, the nurse, and the household servants who had just arrived to clean the room.
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