dish. However, Lucía was a very picky eater, and sometimes either her father or Yamina had to intervene to ensure Lucía had as balanced a diet as possible. They both realized the importance of eating greens and vegetables.
The evening’s menu was simple and consisted of a creamy lentil soup, roasted chicken or mutton, greens, chickpeas, and carrots. Bread and dipping sauce were readily available, along with both Lucía’s and her father’s favorite stuffed olives. Supper was served on trenchers so they could be given to the poor. Servers would always check and refill cups of wine or grape juice. Lucía enjoyed the bowl of lentil soup but only took a very small piece of chicken, a small carrot, and a couple of stuffed olives. Yamina looked at what was on her trencher.
“Lucía, you have to eat more than that.”
“But I am not hungry,” said Lucía, whining.
“Well then, I guess you are too full for dessert,” snapped Yamina.
Lucía had a sweet tooth, and the prospect of not indulging in dessert was out of the question. She knew that if Yamina said no to dessert, her father would agree.
“All right,” said Lucía, agitated at the prospect of her dessert held hostage to a larger piece of chicken and a few more greens.
While the table was being cleared for dessert, Don Fernando discussed the progress of Lucía’s studies with Yamina.
“Hmm,” said Don Fernando after having listened to Yamina’s critique. “It sounds to me as if you will have to spend more time on your Arabic. It is important to be able to speak the language of the Arabic people in your condado.”
“Can you speak Arabic, Papa?” asked Lucía, who turned to look at her father with her inquisitive blue eyes.
“A little from what I learned here and there. But, Lucía, you have an opportunity to study the language in depth, an opportunity I never had and one that could prove invaluable to you in the future. Don’t you agree?” asked Don Fernando, who looked at Lucía with the hope that she had paid attention.
“Sí, Papa. I will try harder,” responded Lucía in a bored tone.
“That’s mi pequeño sol,” responded Don Fernando.
Lucía began to fidget with her fingers and squirm in her chair. “Papa, what do you suppose is taking dessert so long to be served?”
Don Fernando motioned for a servant and told him that they were ready for the next course.
Lucía looked with glee to see the assortment of sweet tarts, a beautiful prepared flan with cinnamon on top, and various assortments of cheeses and dried fruits, along with almond milk to wash it all down.
When the tray came around, Lucía had no problem helping herself to her favorite sweet tarts. Sometimes her overindulgence would lead to a look of askance from Yamina, which meant that she had to put a second helping of sweet tarts back on the server’s plate, to the utter frustration of her sweet tooth.
“Papa?”
“Sí, Lucía.”
“Do you suppose that we could visit with mother after supper?” asked Lucía, who was chewing on a sweet tart.
“Sí, of course. I think that your mother would appreciate that very much.”
With supper over, Lucía left the dais to walk with her father to the crypt of the chapel to visit the sarcophagus of her mother, but on her way, she noticed an unattended tray of sweet tarts left inadvertently on a serving table. As she walked by the table, she quickly assessed the situation to make sure no one was watching and quickly grabbed several of the sweet delicacies, putting them in her pocket for later. A real feeling of satisfaction came over her for being astute enough to find such an eating treasure and to having had put one over on Yamina.
As they entered the chapel, a font filled with holy water awaited them, which they dipped their finger into and blessed themselves. Then they followed the corridor to the end of the chapel, where they turned and went down a series of steps, which led to the rough stone floor of the crypt, a foreboding place lit only by several torches that lined the walls of the underground chamber, casting eerie shadows. Two braziers on tripods stood on either end of the sarcophagus, emitting a sweet smell of aromatics for both heat and additional light.
Don Fernando and Luca knelt on the kneeler on the side of the sarcophagus and, after having blessed themselves, put their hands together in prayer, resting them on the prayer stand attached to the kneeler. A bench was in the back of the kneeler, where Don Fernando and Lucía sat for reflection after prayer.
“Papa, do you suppose Mama knows we are here?”
“I am sure she does, and I am also sure she looks proudly upon you, as I do,” said Don Fernando, who rubbed her back lightly as a sign of comfort.
Lucía turned to her father with a smile and said softly, “Sometimes when I come down here by myself, I swear I feel her presence, Papa.”
“That means your mother is and will always be with you,” responded Don Fernando.
“Do you miss her, Papa?”
“Very much,” said Don Fernando, clearing his throat. “Very much, Lucía.”
After a while, it was time to leave the crypt, and Don Fernando accompanied his daughter to the care of her nurse and tutor, Yamina, who was waiting to read Bible stories to her before bedtime and maybe, if Lucía was cooperative, to tell a tale from her homeland.
Chapter V
Lucía and Isabella were two girls who truly relished being with each other. Lucía was coeval with Isabella, and the two shared much in common. However, Isabella was a bit shyer, soft-spoken, and a noncomplainer; and her oval face and soft brown eyes, along with a small frame, which she covered with her long brown hair, gave the impression of a fragile and weak child.
As the two girls spent more time with each other, Yamina also became Isabella’s tutor on occasion. Yamina offered instruction and was very strict on matters that concerned courtesy and how to manage household staff. The girls learned to stand erect and not to slouch, how to properly curtsy, and the art of the dance, which the two girls enjoyed on their own.
Despite their chores and instruction, they did manage to spend time with each other; they talked and giggled in their shared bed until they fell asleep. However, their favorite pastime was climbing the steps of the tallest tower in Segoia to look out over the countryside. From the tower, they could see the city below and the sparsely wooded grassy plain that stretched to the mountains on the horizon. As they turned, they could also see the peasant village in the distance and to the left of the village, across the road, the family vineyard. As they looked down from the tower, they could see the cliff that the city rested upon and the long drop to the River Duero below.
On occasion, Lucía would spend time at the castle of Gustavo, the home of Isabella. The castle was much smaller than Lucía was accustomed to, as it had only one tower to the left of the castle wall and a thick oak door that led to the courtyard; it was high enough for a man who sat on a horse to pass through. Below, to the left, outside the living quarters, was a dry riverbed that meandered by the castle wall, which was filled with water in the late winter and spring but dry in the summer on the hot dry, dusty plain. Down the road beyond the castle lay the town village.
While at Gustavo, Doña Teresa, Isabella’s mother, would also instruct both Lucía and Isabella on how to properly manage a household staff and how to act as host to notables who attended court. She was a very kind soul with an easy disposition and, when time permitted, would laugh and play with the children, at which time her brown eyes would light up, along with a wide smile from ear to ear. Lucía loved Doña Teresa, who became like a surrogate mother and a wonderful role model for Lucía to follow. Lucía also discovered that Doña Teresa had been one of her mother’s best friends.
One day, Lucía and Isabella were seated, doing their lessons with Yamina, when a messenger from Gustavo presented Isabella