The House of Aragon.

Bells For Thyn Bride

By the time music beings to fill the hall  and wine beings to flow from clay urns into delicate glass vials I have been introduced to Alfonso's children, his brother and few of his more personal friends. His four daughters look nothing like him, so I suppose they must resemble their mother, for they are small and light and delicate with pretty chins and defined cheek bones. The only ones who look anything like him are the boys; two sons with thick brows and plump lips.

 Technically, when Alfonso and I marry his children will be my children as well. With that in mind I should have been nervous. I understand the logical feeling of fear I should have as I  bend into a  curtsy for Alfonso's youngest son, Senor Edwardo, I will have to raise this boy as if her were my own but the only feeling I can sense is a sweetness that blooms in my chest as the little boy kisses my palm.  

 Alfonso sits on the opposite side of the table far enough for me to just  observe him and close enough for me to make out  his voice over the clamor of everyone else. He indulges in conversation and food while the people around me talk and laugh and shout amongst themselves.

"So, my dear," His voice is deep and commands attention and yet he  manages to focus solely on me. "I hear you're an avid reader, you've been making you're self acquainted with the royal libraries?"

I choke on my wine.

I can feel red blotting across my cheeks. My mother always thought reading was an abhorrent pastime for a woman something that should only be used for Scripture but that didn't  stop my father from taking measures to make certain that my sisters and I were literate. From a small age we learned to read and write in Spainish first, then naturally French and later he even hired a Scottish tutor to teach us English. I had always been proud of that but now as I watch Alfonso drink slowly a sip from his wine I fumble over my words trying to explain that we were encouraged to read and sometimes I enjoyed studying my father's ancient tomes on tactical warfare.

He looks at me in a way that makes me feel suddenly  ridiculous. I am  a child bride playing at being wife. A spoiled sheltered little girl speaking about literature and war tactics to this man, my husband, a well versed armsman with years of service to our King's army under his belt. I realize that I know nothing of war, at least not compared to him and he knows that.

I put down my goblet and push a sprig of salted asparagus into my mouth, then I hear a Alfsonso's voice booming."Finally! Diago." Suddenly the whole table is looking at a flustered looking young boy hurrying towards us.

"My apologies, my Lord. I was. . . tied up." He fingers a small packet,turning it in his palm.  " It was very important." Then I realize, with a start, that this boy is the same one I met at the library. His dark hair has been curled and slicked back with olive oil and he was wearing even finer clothes than he   earlier but he was certainly the same one.

Alfonso rises from his seat and claps a heavy hand on the boy's back. " Too tied up to show on time for your own father's banquet?".  For the second time this night I choke on my wine. I realize all at once just how dense I must be. Now that they stand side-by-side I can see that I should have caught the relationship from the moment I saw Alfonso. They are the same person, one is older a bit thicker around the waist and greying in the beard but safe that they are like mirror images. The boy 

"My Lady," He turned the thing in his palm over once more and then held it out towards me, then says slowly. "There is a certin page of mine, clever, handsome young man who has recently come into aquientance with you, Senorita. I'm sure you remember?"

"How could I forget. I don't assume you, Senor would be his Master, the vastly vertueous one?"

The corner of his lip turns up more. "The very one."