Free Falling Pomegranate Seeds: The Duty of Daughters (The Katherine of Aragon Story Book 1) by Wendy J. Dunn

Salamanca. I almost took my final vows, but realised my problem with obedience is one I never want to solve.” The girls looked disconcerted. “I am allowed to wear the habit if I wish. I’m a member of the third order of Franciscans.” Catalina and Maria continued to gaze at her in bewilderment. Beatriz took a deep breath. “I’m wearing it today because I needed a reminder of humility. Yesterday I was unnecessarily harsh to Maria. I hope you can forgive me, child?”
    Maria beamed. “Si. But you don’t need to wear your habit, Latina.”
    Beatriz eyed the child almost skipping and dancing with Catalina to the table where their books were waiting. The coarse fabric of the habit chafed her skin, as if reminding her of her lie. She swallowed, touching the wimple of her habit. She had pulled its cords a little too tightly this morning, but at least it covered her bruised neck and chest. She prayed to God the habit would give the king reason to think again before coming her way. He respected the church. Surely if he remembered how close she had been to taking her vows he would leave her alone.
    Sweet heart,
    I miss you sorely. I do not often say that, do I, love? But my dear friend is gone. Last week, Josepha left with her husband for Vitoria. The queen’s physicians deemed her well enough for travel, but, love, how bitter sweet that day was.
    Her daughter Maria is bereft. Court life never disturbed the child overlong with Josepha also here. Josepha offered a buffer, a semblance of normality for the child. I pray to God I can do the same. The queen promised her cousin she will be a second mother to the little one. As yet, Maria can not hide she aches for her own.
    Once a year, before the onset of Lent, Maria will go home with her father to spend Easter with Josepha. No doubt the passing of time will teach the child to adapt with ease from one place to another without Josepha’s help.
    Si, Maria’s home is no longer with her family. Catalina is the child’s true home, her place of belonging. As I, too, belong – to you. Today I find myself yearning to be your wife. Is that strange for me to say? I – who always tell you, ‘There is no hurry. Let’s be patient, and marry when you can leave the king’s army.’ Farewelling my friend leaves me melancholy… These last days, only teaching gives me any joy…



CHAPTER SEVEN
    Every man is a fool in some man’s opinion
~ Castilian proverb
    B eatriz saw him again and again during the weeks leading up to Princess Isabel’s wedding. He stood alone in shadows, away from sunlight, away from the hum and bustle of court, his eyes full of dreams. Just like a mystic, she thought. A mystic burning bright with the fire of a zealot.
    Noticing Beatriz’s curious eyes on him again, Catalina whispered. “’Tis the Italian, Columbus. Father calls him the Jew.” Beatriz looked aside at Catalina and lifted an eyebrow. Catalina answered with an embarrassed shrug. King Ferdinand made no effort to hide his dislike of Jews.
    With so many Jews in powerful positions in his wife’s court, Beatriz knew Catalina often felt confused about the different standpoints taken by her parents. Beatriz hoped to guide the girl – hoped to help open her eyes so she appreciated people for their hearts and souls, rather than view the world through unnecessary prejudice. God knew she received enough of that herself as a woman scholar navigating a world mapped out by men. “He wants my parents to pay for ships and men. The king, my lord father, says the man is a charlatan and wastes my mother’s precious time with some foolhardy plan to discover a sea way to India and the land of the grand khan.”
    Maria gazed blankly at Catalina.
    “Do you know what grand khan means?” Beatriz asked.
    Frowning, Maria gave it quick thought and offered an answer. “King of kings?”
    Beatriz smiled. The children were listening to her lessons.
    “Si,” Catalina said. “Mother told me that the khan sent word to