Secrets & Mysteries of the Sephardim

A big kiss to all my sweet nephews and my admiration to your wonderful wife, Isabella, for giving her boundless affection and love to her children and the children of my late brother, Edward.

Your faithful and loving sister,

Isabella of Burgundy

“How kind of your sister to say thank you,” said the duchess, wiping tears from her eyes with a silk handkerchief. “I am so touched by her kindness and grateful for what she has done for us. We will surely have to invite your sister's entire family to Isabella and Afonso's engagement celebration.”

“That's right,” answered Pedro. “I intended to send our reply tomorrow. Along with deep gratitude to my sister, we should also invite my sister and her husband, Duke Philip the Good,34, and their entire family to the engagement ceremony. We need to have the ceremony immediately before Eleanor finds other ways to contact her sons.

“Tomorrow, I will call a royal council,” he continued. “After Afonso and Isabella return, we will decide which day will be appropriate to notify everyone of the engagement and have the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy and other distinguished guests arrive so we can have the ceremony as soon as possible.”

The news of the imminent engagement of Prince Afonso and infanta Isabella quickly spread throughout the palace. The court became unusually animated. All the courtiers were instructed to prepare for the celebration. Isabel Zarco also received an assignment directly from the duchess. She was to speed up Fernando's training so he, as Afonso's brother, would not fail at the ball, which was to be scheduled immediately after the betrothal ceremony.

The dance schedule was, therefore, changed, and Fernando was now required to attend daily classes in the morning and evening. This news made Fernando extremely happy. For now, he could be near Isabel daily. During the last few months, his inspiration had not ceased. Every evening, he wrote love poems. And, every week, he delivered his poetic creations the way he had the first time.

One day, after several days of intense dance classes, Fernando noticed that Isabel had a strange, pensive expression. Toward the end of the class, he asked, “Isabel, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, infante Fernando,” Isabel replied with perplexity. “You don't have to ask for my permission. Ask me if you need to ask something, and I am always ready to answer you.”

“Thank you, Isabel,” replied the infante. “I just wondered if it would be polite to ask such a question. You don’t look the same today as you usually do. I thought you might be overworked because of the frequent sessions with me. Tell me, and I will ask the duchess to reduce the number of lessons.”

“Oh, no, not at all, Your Highness!” Isabel answered anxiously. “You needn't ask the duchess to do that. She has not required me to give you extra lessons. I told her to add the extra lessons so we could finish what I had pla

“Isabel,” Fernando answered with inspiration. “It would be a great honor for me if I could somehow do you some favor. After all, I am so …” Fernando suddenly stammered and could not continue his thought.

“May I ask you something, infante Fernando?” Isabel asked, wanting to lead the conversation out of its impasse.

“I'm all ears, Isabel,” Fernando replied with a sigh of relief.

“One of your cousins told me you are multitalented and even write poetry. Is this true?”

“It must have been my cousin, Philippa, who told you that,” Fernando answered. “She always blurts out all my secrets.”

Suddenly, it occurred to Fernando that Isabel might be trying to find out who the author was of the poems she often found on her door. “Now, at last, the moment had come for me to reveal myself to Isabel,” Fernando thought. “And if I finally do it, I will be the happiest creature in the world if Isabel accepts my love.”

“Isabel!” Fernando began, preparing to voice out those speeches he had repeatedly rehearsed in front of the mirror. But, instead, he began to talk about something else. “Philippa is so imaginative. I told her I tried to write poetry. But it didn't work out. That was a long time ago.”

“Оh! So it’s not you,” Isabel exclaimed with a surprised and confused expression. “It's not you.” Just as Fernando had done the last time, Isabel stuttered before she could finish what she wanted to say.

“Not me what?” Fernando asked.

“Oh, no, no! That was just me. I was thinking about something and was speaking out loud. Forgive me, infante Fernando.”

After saying goodbye, Fernando scolded himself for his indecision and went to his room. “Where had my courage gone?” he reasoned. “I had always been confident until now. I had always won the training sword fights, not because of my skill but because I had a strong spirit. Not even my older brother nor my cousins have this. Why am I now a wimpy little coward?”

Fernando entered his room and looked at himself in the mirror with contempt. “Slug! Slob! Slob!” he shouted angrily, pointing at his reflection. “You are not worthy of a goddess like Isabel! And you are no hero or knight as you always imagined yourself to be! You're a wretched coward! That is what you are!” Fernando covered his face with shame and threw himself into bed, sobbing.

During the night, Fernando could not sleep a wink, feeling emotionally uncomfortable and experiencing mental pain and unbearable anguish. In the morning, he got out of bed, all broken up. He went to his desk and, with a distracted look, ran through the schedule of classes for the day:

– 

French speech

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Cartography

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Latin speech

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Star

science

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Knightly lessons: sword and lance techniques on

a moving target

– 

Dance techniques

He went to the mirror and stared at his reflection – a pale, frowning face with puffy eyelids and red eyes. “I have to pull myself together,” Fernando thought. “It’s a hard day, but I'm not used to giving up. I have to endure and not show anyone my weakness.”

The classes took Fernando's mind off the painful thoughts. But during the second to last lesson, Fernando felt a great physical weakness and slight dizziness. However, he decided to ignore it. Putting on his knight's armor, he got on his favorite horse, took a wooden spear, and galloped toward the moving target. Ten paces from the target, Fernando felt very dizzy. His eyes grew dim, the spear fell out of his hands, and he collapsed to the ground.

Fernando woke up in his room. The doctor was sitting on a chair by his bed to his left and was touching his elbow. On his right was the maid, waving a fan in his face. At his feet stood Philippa, and the rest of Fernando's cousins stood at the door.

“Oh, you are awake, Your Highness,” the doctor exclaimed. “I can see your face, which is already quite pink, is quite focused. Tell me, Your Highness, is anything troubling you? Do you feel dizzy or have pain anywhere in your joints?”

34

Philip III, byname Philip the Good or French Philippe Le Bon, (born July 31, 1396, Dijon, Burgundy [now in France]—died June 15, 1467, Bruges [now Brugge, Belgium]), the most important of the Valois dukes of Burgundy (reigned 1419–67) and the true founder of the Burgundian state that rivaled France in the 15th century.