Mistresses: María de Padilla, Practical Queen of Castile

María de Padilla and Pedro of Castile with María's coat of arms 

By J. K. Knauss 

María de Padilla met King Pedro of Castile during the summer of 1352, when she was eighteen years old, “intelligent, beautiful, and small in size,” according to contemporary chronicles. The king, who was also eighteen at the time, recognized in her a kindred spirit, and she quickly became the love of his life. Although Pedro’s monarch status obliged him to marry more politically advantageous women, María’s willingness to accept his love outside the bonds of matrimony earned her an important place in European history and the royal gene pool. Indeed, it’s difficult to take two steps in Sevilla and in some parts of Castilla y León today without coming across a monument dedicated to her, a room she lived in, or a monastery she founded.

A salon in the King Pedro area of the Royal Palace in Sevilla
Photo by J. K. Knauss 

King Pedro (r. 1350–1369) has not one but two sobriquets recorded in the history books: the Cruel, or the Just. This reflects the complex panorama of the time. He was loved or hated, but no one was indifferent to his policies in a war with Aragón, or his stance regarding what would become the Hundred Years War. These were the early days of sociopolitical turmoil following the Black Death, which had already devastated the Iberian Peninsula and would strike again during Pedro’s reign.

María came of noble lineage, and many of her family members were appointed to high offices at court. It was probably inevitable that she and the king would meet at some time, but it happened to occur during a trip the king made to Asturias to deal with Enrique, his half-brother who would eventually kill him and take the crown, beginning the Trastámara dynasty.

The Salon of María de Padilla as it was furnished in 1892.
Courtesy of pastpictures.org 

Many stories have circulated about the king marrying María in secret soon after he met her, and later glossing over the legally valid ceremony because of political pressures to marry Blanche of Bourbon, first cousin of the King of France. The marriage failed spectacularly, and a later one was also short-lived and lacking issue. María, on the other hand, gave Pedro four children: Beatriz, who became a nun at Tordesillas; Constanza, who married John of Gaunt because King Pedro’s loyalties really lay with the English; Isabel, who married Edmund of Langley; and a son who didn’t survive childhood.

Her unsanctioned relationship with Pedro caused the historians of her time to overlook her accomplishments. While it’s possible she stayed out of the political arena, it seems unlikely she never told the king what she thought of any of the volatile issues of his reign. She is on record as buying expensive properties and founding the convent of Santa Clara de Astudillo. All of the buildings associated with her feature elegant mudéjar and Gothic architecture.

The author pretends to be María de Padilla on a hot September day. 

María died at about 27 years of age in 1361, possibly as a result of plague. Her body was buried in the convent she had founded. But her remains were soon transferred to join other members of the royal family in the royal chapel in the cathedral of Sevilla, where they still rest today. This move could have been motivated by Pedro’s continued devotion, but it was also strategic in gaining recognition of María’s son, Alfonso, as Pedro’s heir. In any case, María de Padilla is remembered as Pedro’s queen, in the practical sense if not by law.

The "Baths of María de Padilla" below the Gothic area
of the Royal Palace in Sevilla are actually
the rain catchment system. Photo by J. K. Knauss 

Although mostly unappreciated in her time, María’s story has captivated novelists and artists ever since. A nineteenth-century opera offers two emotional interpretations of her historical status. In the first version, which was rejected by censors, María seizes the crown from Blanche of Bourbon’s head and then commits suicide. In the final version, Pedro proclaims María as his queen instead of Blanche, and María perishes from the overwhelming joy of attaining what later critics believe must have been her most fervent wish.

A driven fiction writer, J. K. Knauss has edited many fine historical novels and is a bilingual freelance editor. Her historical epic, Seven Noble Knights, will be released by Encircle Publications December 11, 2020. J. K. Knauss earned a PhD in medieval Spanish with a dissertation on the portrayal of Alfonso X’s laws in the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which has been published as the five-star-rated Law and Order in Medieval Spain. Look for her book based on the Cantigas, coming in 2021. On the contemporary side, her YA/NA paranormal Awash in Talent was published by Kindle Press. Find out more about her writing and bookish activities here. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too!

Author Interview & Book Giveaway: J. K. Knauss on SEVEN NOBLE KNIGHTS

This week, we're pleased to welcome author and Unusual Historicals contributor J. K. Knauss with her first historical novel, SEVEN NOBLE KNIGHTS, a saga of family, betrayal, and revenge in medieval Spain.

We're giving away two signed print copies and three ebooks of Seven Noble Knights free. Just enter the Rafflecopter giveaway at the bottom of this post or Thursday's wedding scene excerpt for a chance to win. 

Spain, 974. Gonzalo, a brave but hotheaded knight, unwittingly provokes tragedy at his uncle’s wedding to beautiful young noblewoman Lambra: the adored cousin of the bride dead, his teeth scattered across the riverbank. Coveting his family’s wealth and power, Lambra sends Gonzalo’s father into enemy territory to be beheaded, unleashing a revenge that devastates Castile for a generation.

A new hero, Mudarra, rises out of the ashes of Gonzalo’s once great family. Raised as a warrior in the opulence of Muslim Córdoba, Mudarra must make a grueling journey and change his religion, then chooses to take his jeweled sword to the throats of his family’s betrayers. But only when he strays from the path set for him does he find his true purpose in life.

Inspired by a lost medieval epic poem, Seven Noble Knights draws from history and legend to bring a brutal yet beautiful world to life in a gripping story of family, betrayal, and love.

**Q & A with J. K. Knauss**

How did you come to write about medieval Spain?

For the longest time I pursued my two passions, writing and Spain, separately, as if the twain could never meet. It wasn't until after I'd completed a PhD in medieval Spanish literature that I realized I could approach this material in a more exciting way. My dissertation advisor had remarked, "You like to tell stories, don't you?" It was finally time to do something about it!

Said to be the sarcophagi of the seven noble
 knights, San Millán de Suso.
Photo by J. K. Knauss 

Tell us about the legend on which Seven Noble Knights is based and how you became fascinated with it.

The first time I heard of the seven noble knights was during a faculty-led tour of Córdoba during a fantastic study abroad semester. "This is where they hung the heads," the professor said, pointing to an archway. That was too gruesome to interest me at the time. The next time I encountered the legend was during my PhD studies. The events may really have happened in the late tenth century, and the story ended up in thirteenth-century historical writing. In the early twentieth century, scholars noticed the historical prose rhymed and maintained a poetic meter in places! Yes, the story probably circulated orally as an epic poem or song, and yes, one character throws a bloody cucumber at another. Everything about this legend is fascinating. Many places, aside from that archway in Córdoba, lay claim to some aspect of the heroic yet familiar, dearly beloved characters.

The crest of Salas de los Infantes shows
nine of the legend's characters.
Photo by J. K. Knauss 

Are many of the characters drawn from history?

I had a lot of fun making up a few supporting characters based on my historical research and the needs of the drama. I don't think the hero of the novel, Mudarra, ever existed. The epic poets or the historians likely created him to satisfy their deep-seated need for revenge for the protagonists. That gave me the freedom to develop his character from an automatic revenge machine into a thoughtful, talented young man with doubts and desires of his own.

On the other hand, the Count of Castile, Caliph Hisham, and Almanzor, acting governor of Andalucía—heads of state—are all verified in the historical record. The González family of the region of Lara held a high status throughout the Middle Ages, and in chancery records we find mention of Gundisalvus (Gonzalo), one of my protagonists, and one Flammula, the likely namesake of my villain, Doña Lambra.

How did you find all this out? 

Picking up medieval law codes, chancery records, and history books might not appeal to many, but in me they have a rapt audience. I think the joy of finding an unexpected tidbit that illuminates an obscure literary passage (like the bloody cucumber) comes through in a vivid, exciting novel. 

Although Seven Noble Knights is realistic and historically accurate overall, there are ghosts in Part Two. Do you consider this magical realism? 

Seven Noble Knights is the first fiction I've written that strives for strict realism. There are, in fact, magical occurrences in the source materials. In the interest of historical realism, I explain a man regaining his sight with a detailed account of medieval eye surgery, and rather than claiming that a broken ring magically fuses together, I have the ring reforged. The medieval sources don't mention ghosts, but I based my ghosts on research about medieval Islamic and Christian beliefs about spiritual manifestations. The ghosts are real to the characters, so they're medieval realism, rather than magical realism. 

Seven Noble Knights will debut December 11 from Encircle Publications.

And remember to enter below to win one of two signed print copies or three ebooks of Seven Noble Knights free.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

J. K. Knauss earned her PhD in medieval Spanish with a dissertation on the portrayal of Alfonso X’s laws in the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which has been published as the five-star-rated Law and Order in Medieval Spain. Look for her book of stories based on the Cantigas, coming 2021. A driven fiction writer, J. K. Knauss has edited many fine historical novels and is a bilingual freelance editor. Her historical epic, Seven Noble Knights, will debut on December11, 2020, from Encircle Publications. Her contemporary paranormal Awash in Talent is now available from Kindle Press. Find out more about her writing and bookish activities here. Follow her on  Facebook and Twitter, too!

Excerpt Thursday: SEVEN NOBLE KNIGHTS by J. K. Knauss

This week, we're pleased to welcome author and Unusual Historicals contributor J. K. Knauss with her first historical novel, SEVEN NOBLE KNIGHTS, a saga of family, betrayal, and revenge in medieval Spain.

Join us again on Sunday for an author interview with more details about the story behind the story. We're giving away two signed print copies and three ebooks of Seven Noble Knights free. Just enter the Rafflecopter giveaway at the bottom of this or Sunday's post.

Spain, 974. Gonzalo, a brave but hotheaded knight, unwittingly provokes tragedy at his uncle’s wedding to beautiful young noblewoman Lambra: the adored cousin of the bride dead, his teeth scattered across the riverbank. Coveting his family’s wealth and power, Lambra sends Gonzalo’s father into enemy territory to be beheaded, unleashing a revenge that devastates Castile for a generation.

A new hero, Mudarra, rises out of the ashes of Gonzalo’s once great family. Raised as a warrior in the opulence of Muslim Córdoba, Mudarra must make a grueling journey and change his religion, then chooses to take his jeweled sword to the throats of his family’s betrayers. But only when he strays from the path set for him does he find his true purpose in life.

Inspired by a lost medieval epic poem, Seven Noble Knights draws from history and legend to bring a brutal yet beautiful world to life in a gripping story of family, betrayal, and love.

Early praise for Seven Noble Knights

“Let Seven Noble Knights welcome you to historical fiction! …it’s a rich saga populated with characters you will grow to love (and a few you will love to hate). The ancient empires of Spain are a beautiful backdrop to the struggles of humankind across all generations of all lands: romance, revenge, war, and adventure.”    

—Pushcart Prize nominee Reneé Bibby, The Writers Studio

Excerpt from Seven Noble Knights, Part One, Chapter III: The Wedding

Young Gonzalo’s uncle, Ruy Blásquez, is receiving Doña Lambra as a bride in exchange for his service to Castile. Gonzalo isn’t at all sure Lambra should be marrying his uncle.

Doña Sancha shooed her sons away from the cathedral door and drew dried herbs and flowers from pockets Gonzalo hadn’t known were inside her tunic and cloak. With a stick, she carved a large circle on the hard earth. Doña Sancha set the herbs and flowers inside the circle in a pattern with meanings she might have shared with a daughter, but were a mystery to Gonzalo.

“You’ll stand here,” she told her brother, Ruy Blásquez. “When your bride comes from that side, you’ll step inside the circle together.” She arranged her husband and sons on Ruy Blásquez’s side of the circle. Gonzalo ended up next to his uncle, so close he could hear each shallow breath he took.

Count García arrived with a full complement of knights and squires and four banners in white with red castles, as well as a fiddler and a flutist who made ready to play. So many people in the plaza must have been making the loudest ruckus since the city had been won from the Moors, but Gonzalo heard nothing.

From between the buildings at the far end of the plaza emerged forty women who walked with their hair covered to emphasize their married status. Their laughter and singing couldn’t distract Gonzalo from Doña Lambra, who tottered on their shoulders.

An heirloom beaded necklace competed with her yellow hair, shining in tight plaits on her shoulders with ornamental brass tips that looked as if they had come out of a treasure chest long ago. A mail girdle, inlaid with brass and pieces of jet at the edges, cinched her bright blue tunic from under her breastbone to down over her hips. Gonzalo shivered at the thought of the bitter touch of the matching mail sleeves, from the decorated wristlets up to her shoulders. A burgundy-colored cloak edged with three rows of golden braid was fastened over her shoulder with a gilded brooch in the shape of a lion rampant. A square cap, decorated all around with braid and gold carbuncles, looked like a royal crown. Gonzalo imagined he wasn’t at his uncle’s wedding, but that this bride had come from the farthest reaches of Christendom to marry the King of Navarra or León.

The married women set Lambra down in the middle of their ranks. She let the cloak fan out behind her unsteady stride. Her face was frozen into a grimace like the one the Virgin Mary wore as she cradled the Savior’s dead body inside the cathedral.

Gonzalo remembered Lambra’s grin at the banquet days before, when her mouth had dripped red with juices from the roasted bull’s testicles and the sauce-engorged bread trencher. Each time she received the goblet, she had made sure to turn it so that her lips didn’t touch the same spot as Ruy Blásquez’s. She didn’t take the same precaution against Álvar Sánchez, seated on her other side. Gonzalo could hardly taste his food through a choking desire to throw his eating knife across the table into the gloating knight’s hand so it could never touch Lambra so familiarly again.

There he was now, that upstart Álvar Sánchez, wearing just as juicy a grin, so close to Doña Lambra that the obnoxious curl on the toe of his boot intruded on the magic circle.

“What is that blasphemous behemoth doing there? Shouldn’t a member of the groom’s family stand next to the bride?” Gonzalo whispered to Gustio.

Gustio knocked his elbow into Gonzalo’s ribs. “Why? Were you hoping it would be you, little brother?” He chortled until their mother hissed at them to be silent.

Count García was addressing the crowd. “…with these deeds, Ruy Blásquez has earned as a bride my loveliest cousin, probably the most beautiful woman Castile has seen since my mother joined the Kingdom of Heaven. May they live many more years and have many loyal Castilian children.” He raised his arms, which the crowd took as a sign to cheer and shout.

Gonzalo noticed that his uncle had already moved into the circle and reached for Lambra’s hands. She was looking at Ruy Blásquez, but not with love or even curiosity. It was a look of judgment. Gonzalo tried to imagine how his uncle’s soft eyes, long nose, and weak chin fared on Lambra’s scale.

“I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband,” Ruy Blásquez said. Gonzalo was relieved to glimpse him smiling widely, displaying his straight, white teeth to his judge in the form of a bride.

Ruy Blásquez smiled and waited, waited and smiled. Gonzalo witnessed a thousand expressions cross Lambra’s face like clouds in a stormy sky. At last, Lambra’s maid emerged from the crowd and leaned over the circle. “I receive you as mine…” she prompted so quietly that Gonzalo had to read her lips.

“I receive you as mine so that you become my… husband… and I your… wife,” said Doña Lambra, her eyes narrow. She pulled her hand away from Ruy Blásquez to wipe at her plump lips, as if the words had sullied them.

She craned her neck to look at Álvar Sánchez and Gonzalo knew she wished she had said the words to him. His heart beat faster. Then she shifted her gaze to Gonzalo. He felt as if he were smothered with the parsley, fennel, red carrot, and beet sauce from the banquet. Such was the hunger he saw in her eyes, a hunger he couldn’t help but feel, too, and which raged all the more, the more he tried to contain it. He remembered the way the bull’s testicles had flopped onto Doña Lambra’s trencher under their own weight and the way they deflated when she plunged her knife into the center of the sacs.

He stopped a startled cry in his throat.

“Long live the newlyweds!” The crowd shouted until they were the only words Gonzalo remembered ever hearing.

Seven Noble Knights will debut December 11 from Encircle Publications.

Find out some of the research involved in this wedding scene here.

See the book trailer with specially commissioned art by Ayal Pinkus.

And remember to enter below for a chance to win one of 2 signed softcover copies or one of three ebooks of Seven Noble Knights!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

J. K. Knauss earned her PhD in medieval Spanish with a dissertation on the portrayal of Alfonso X’s laws in the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which has been published as the five-star-rated Law and Order in Medieval Spain. Look for her book of stories based on the Cantigas, coming 2021. A driven fiction writer, J. K. Knauss has edited many fine historical novels and is a bilingual freelance editor. Her historical epic, Seven Noble Knights, will debut on December 11, 2020, from Encircle Publications. Her contemporary paranormal Awash in Talent is now available from Kindle Press. Find out more about her writing and bookish activities here. Follow her on  Facebook and Twitter, too!

The Intellectuals: Alfonso X’s Contribution to World Science and Culture

By J. K. Knauss 

Juan Diego portrays
Alfonso X on the
series Toledo

He has a portrait hanging in the US House of Representatives in the Great Lawgivers series. A moon crater bears his name. His name is on the largest unified collection of annotated medieval music. Why do so many fields of inquiry praise the intellectual efforts of Alfonso X, el Sabio? What mark did he leave on the world to make us think he was so learned?

The short answer: his books.

In the General Estoria, we read: “The King makes a book, not because he writes it with his hands, but because he outlines the facts in it, and edits it and makes it right, and shows the way in which it is to be made… Just as we say that the King makes a palace, we don’t say it because he constructs it with his hands, but because he ordered it to be made…” The Book of the Sphere discusses at length the way King Alfonso worked as general editor. He came up with the idea for the book and what it should contain, and then went through it to take out extraneous parts and correct infelicities.

Alfonso X oversaw these projects to give himself access to the best knowledge in order to learn how rule his country more wisely, and a great additional benefit was that the books were created in Castilian and in Latin. They could then be consumed by Alfonso’s Castilian-reading subjects and Europeans farther afield. A wise populace is the beginning of a wise kingdom, and wise foreign friends make for smooth dealings and further the cause of that wise kingdom.

The collaborators made use of the finest sources available. They accurately cite Aristotle, the early Christian saints including Augustine, and eleventh-century philosophers such as Pedro Alfonso and Aelred of Rievaulx, to give the most basic examples. The scope of the intellectual activity has led to many scholarly volumes. Here’s a list of highlights.

The Alphonsus Crater on the Moon. Wikimedia Commons

Astronomy

• Alfonsine Tables

• Picatrix

• Book of Knowledge of Astronomy

• Book of the Forms and Images

• Book of the Fixed Stars

• Book of the Sphere, etc.

(More about Alfonso X’s astronomy on Unusual Historicals inJuly.)

Other Science

Lapidario—A book of erudition about types of stones.

Alfonso X in the US House of Representatives

Law

• The Fuero Real—A pragmatic town charter that was granted to new towns in order to begin regularizing the rule of law throughout Alfonso’s kingdoms.

• Espéculo—Elegant and comprehensive legal theory with practical applications as an afterthought.

• Siete Partidas—A great book of medieval thought that also served as the basis of Spanish law for centuries.

• Specialized books of law—The Book of Gambling Houses, the Book of Frontier Commanders, various ordinances, etc.

History/Wisdom

• Book of Calila and Digna—This charming book is the first work of Castilian prose narrative. Based on ancient Indian texts via Arabic sources, two jackals (or lynxes) tell each other fables to illustrate complex and sometimes conflicting points of wisdom.

• Setenario—Often classed with the legal works, this book obsessed with the number seven is an unfinished compendium of the most secret kinds of knowledge and how to apply them.

• History of Spain—Tells the story of the Iberian Peninsula from the end of the Roman Empire to the beginning of the thirteenth century.

• General History—An astoundingly wide-reaching world history from Biblical times.

Music/Religion

• The Cantigas de Santa Maria—The largest collection of written medieval music in the world. More than 400 praise and miracle songs in Galician Portuguese for the Blessed Virgin with fun melodies and gorgeous illustrations. I attempted to describe how wonderful this collection is in this post. I investigate one exciting cantiga in this post.

Alfonso's sculpture at the National Library in
Madrid emphasizes intellect with books and a scroll.

Pastimes because leisure is important for refreshing the intellect.

• Various cantigas de escarnio e mal dizer—Profane, sometimes grotesque, mostly humorous, and at least one moving account of the weariness of a king in failing health (“Non me posso pagar tanto”).

• Libro de ajedrez, dados e tablas—A comprehensive illustrated compendium of chess strategy for the troubled intellectual. Ways to play dice, backgammon, and other games of chance are not as highly regarded.

Much of this body of work had far-reaching impacts in medieval Europe and modern world. The astronomy inspired and informed Copernicus, and the law works influence decisions even today in the American Southwest.

In order to begin my studies of Alfonso X, I had to vastly broaden my fields of expertise in addition to the strictly literary training I’d had up to that time. Perhaps Alfonso X’s greatest wisdom lay in the voracity with which he pursued all intellectual subjects. It seems there was nothing the Wise King wouldn’t want to investigate and read about further.

Simon R. Doubledays’ biography (The Wise King, New York: Basic Books, 2015) seamlessly weaves the trials and tribulations of Alfonso X’s life and times into the writing of the body of work he left behind. He makes a good case that Alfonso X based his intellectuality on the model of polymath Muslim princes. Indeed, the translators and compilers frequently relied on rescued ancient documents in Arabic. Doubleday’s book is an excellent overview of a fascinating king—I learned a few things I didn’t know before. 

My tribute to Alfonso's contribution to world culture, Our Lady's Troubadour, lets you experience the Cantigas de Santa Maria in a fun new way! 

Jessica Knauss earned her PhD in Medieval Spanish with a dissertation on the portrayal of Alfonso X’s laws in the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which has been published as the five-star-rated Law and Order in Medieval Spain. A driven fiction writer, Jessica Knauss has edited many fine historical novels and is a bilingual freelance editor. Her historical novel, Seven Noble Knights, is available from Encircle Publications in ebook, paperback, and hardcover. Find out more her writing and bookish activities here or here. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too!

First Ladies: Ava de Ribagorza, a Traitor Countess?

By Jessica Knauss 

Mid-eleventh-century illumination from the
St. Sever Beatus

In the tenth century, so much definitive action took place in northern Spain that every historical person played a fascinating role. One of these historical persons was Ava de Ribagorza, Countess of Castile and wife of Count García Fernández. Although an epic poem about García’s wife circulated all over Iberia—The Traitor Countess—its storyline bears little relation to fact. I’m writing a novel with Count García and Countess Ava as central characters, and to write about her convincingly, I need to make crucial decisions based on little evidence. How to separate legend from history?

García Fernández was the second Count of Castile from his father’s death in 970 until his own passing in 995. At the time Castile was a territory on the fringes of the Kingdom of León and politically dependent on it. The Castilians’ location on the frontier with the Caliphate of Córdoba meant that by necessity, the political leaders were principally warlords. They had to be ready at any moment to defend their hard-won territory from brutal raids that terrified everyone from the haughtiest king to the lowliest laborer.

This is the era of Almanzor, a political opportunist and great military strategist whom everyone in the north of the peninsula assumed was the caliph because of his seemingly limitless power. The map shows Almanzor’s principal forays into León, Castile, Navarra, Ribagorza, and Barcelona (the “Christian kingdoms”) and the generous swath of territory he took back for his prosperous empire. The constant ebb and flow of conflict was only aggravated because the Christian kingdoms often had bloody spats amongst themselves.

The militarization of Castilian society was so extreme that it’s said that the men didn’t have time to take care of their own horses. That job, and other important ones, belonged to their tough-as-nails wives.

Count García in the Plaza Mayor
of Salamanca

Ava was born circa 945, the daughter of Count Ramón II of Ribagorza. The family name refers to the county between the France-dependent County of Barcelona and the independent Kingdom of Navarra. The Queen of Navarra may have helped arrange Ava’s marriage to Count García in 960 or 965. Ava’s prime age and noble birth made it a good match that became a fruitful union. Somehow, between battles and governance, the count and countess raised six children to adulthood. Four of the five daughters made advantageous marriages, one became a nun, and the son, Sancho, inherited the title and responsibilities of Count of Castile.

Not many other facts have survived about this woman, whom circumstance must have made extraordinary. It’s my job as a historical novelist to breathe life into Ava on the page, but I don’t have a lot to go on. Her death may even be more mysterious than her life.

I haven’t been able to find a record of when Ava died. There is no mention of her in the histories after García Fernández’s passing. This doesn’t necessarily mean she died around the same time. Because her husband’s death meant the end of her time as Countess of Castile, she might have taken on a lesser role at court, perhaps supporting the new count, her son, in ways no one valued enough to write down.

As I’ve written at Unusual Historicals before, the minstrels and then the historians who wrote down The Traitor Countess took Ava’s absence from the historical record and ran with it. They claimed that she wanted to elope to Córdoba with her Moorish lover, and they set Count García’s death squarely on her shoulders. She takes advantage of her role as horse husband by giving García’s steed food that makes it look bulky, but actually weakens it. As Ava has planned, the horse fails the count in battle, leading to his death on the frontier. She then attempts to poison her son so she can leave Castile, but Sancho turns the poison back on his mother in a scene reminiscent of Hamlet.

Presentation miniature from thirteenth-century Estoria de Espanna

It’s hard to imagine why Ava became the target of so much scorn. Perhaps something similar to this happened and became lost to history. Or, more likely, confronted with a vacuum in the record and well removed from the time period, the thirteenth-century historians preferred to write down scandalous material instead of nothing at all. A traitorous countess could explain two things that might have puzzled them: the death of the great warrior, Count García; and the curious fact that his youngest daughter, Oneca, was married to Almanzor soon after García’s death.

Yes, that Almanzor. In the tenth century, political strategy could easily have led to such a match. In the thirteenth century, however, historians were more concerned with presenting a coherent story of Castilian power and religious righteousness than with the complexity of history. If they read about Oneca’s marriage to Almanzor, terror of the north, they would have thought something had gone terribly wrong. What better way to explain a now unsavory alliance than by blaming a woman? The poor girl must have had a terrible mother, since her father was a proven example of knightly virtue.

Of course, this is impossible to prove, but I imagine a lot of drama in the scriptorium while the historians were coming up with their narratives. It looks as if I’ll have to use some of that imagination in the service of redeeming Ava—or further condemning her. I haven’t decided yet.

Jessica Knauss earned her PhD in Medieval Spanish with a dissertation on the portrayal of Alfonso X’s laws in the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which has been published as the five-star-rated Law and Order in Medieval Spain. A driven fiction writer, Jessica Knauss has edited many fine historical novels and is a bilingual freelance editor. Her historical novel, Seven Noble Knights, will be published December 11, 2020, by Encircle Publications. Find out more about her writing and bookish activities here or here. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too!