by Ann Benson
Alejandro raised his head just long enough to say, “How could it be worse than this? I am about to toss up my very innards.”
“Perhaps with no innards you will feel no pain,” the captain said, “but I think not. I would advise you to try to keep them. It may make you feel better to know that you are not alone in your affliction. It is said that the mighty Edward himself is lacking in sea legs!” He laughed. To the captain, who had seen the majestic Edward, the vision of that great man violently vomiting seemed terribly funny. But Alejandro, suffering terribly, could find no humor in the notion. He dropped his head again and retched dryly.
They reached the opposite shore late the next day without incident, and the entire party quickly disembarked, walking the horses through the shallow surf to the rocky beach. Alejandro wobbled around on shaky legs for a few moments before mounting his horse.
The white cliffs rose majestically above the sand, and Alejandro watched the boat set off in the waning afternoon sun, heading back to France, leaving him and his companions on this strange foreign shore.
Pointing to a city in the distance, whose towers and spires and smoke columns were just beginning to take form in his vision, Alejandro said, “Is that London?”
“It is,” the captain said.
“But it looks so small! And see the dirty air above it!” Alejandro said. “I thought it would be bigger, and more grand! It does not look like a city in which this great King Edward might live.”
“The man himself is of a mind with you, I think,” the captain said, “for now he only keeps his armies there, but lives to the west in Windsor. I am told he has a fine palace there. Tonight I will deliver you to the Tower of London as I am instructed to do. Tomorrow, perhaps, you will be taken to Windsor.”
The language of the English people was hard and guttural, Alejandro thought, not at all like his lyrical native Spanish, or the soft fluidity of his acquired French. The rough sounds assaulted his ears as the papal envoy rode through the crowds that clogged the great bridge into the city of London. He had once heard the German language being spoken, which to an untrained ear might be mistaken for English; he didn’t like the sound of either one.
Looking down to the shores of the Thames River, he could see the bodies that had accumulated there, some floating, some bobbing near the shore, and he could smell their decomposition, even at this height on the bridge. The water looked more like sludge. There were flotillas of feces and garbage, with little clear water surface visible anywhere.
The pope’s banner still flew high in front of their train, and everywhere people stepped aside to let them pass freely. Woeful supplicants dropped to their knees and clutched their hands together in prayer at the sight of the gold crucifix emblazoned on a red background. Alejandro was unsettled by the amount of attention their procession was receiving, and tried to become less conspicuous by guiding his horse between the guards.
At the gate of the Tower the castellan who greeted them arranged for their belongings to be taken to temporary lodgings. “His Majesty expects you, but he has gone to Windsor, where he can more graciously receive you. He bids me to invite you to rest here this evening, and journey west tomorrow, if such a course may please you.”
Anxious for word of conditions outside England, the castellan invited them to dine with him that evening, where he hoped they would give him detailed accounts of their travel through France. The captain readily agreed, and their supper was served in the main hall of the castellan’s residence. A long planked table was filled with steaming meats and crusty breads, and hot turnips Were heaped upon a platter, which was passed from man to man. By the time they had finished their meal, Alejandro’s head was pounding from the strain of trying to understand what was being said. He had picked up a few words and phrases in English from the captain on their journey, for they had little else to do but talk in the evenings at their dark campsites. The captain’s English was severely limited and his pronunciation crude. Alejandro could not learn enough from him to function, and frequently requested translations into French.
At first light Alejandro was awakened by his captain. “We are ready to leave,” he said. “I have brought some things that His Holiness wishes you to deliver.”
After rubbing his eyes Alejandro sat up and accepted the package. He said, “Why not stay a day or two and rest? Surely you and your men need not travel out so soon.”
“I think not,” he said. “I care not for this English soil, as English soldiers care not for the good earth of France, given a choice.”
Alejandro did not want him to go. “But surely one or two days will not be too onerous.…”
“You forget, good sir, that my king is at war with the one into whose hands I now deliver you. There is a truce now, owing to the pest, but it will soon end. I serve the pope, it is true, but I am forever a son of France, and I am anxious to go back to my home. Surely you can understand this, so far from your own country.…”
Only too well … Alejandro thought. “Then I bid you adieu, and wish you a safe journey home,” he said. The captain saluted and strolled out of the barracks.
Alone again, he opened the package to inspect the contents. Inside were several scrolls for the king and his ministers and a few small gifts, for the ladies, he thought, and a purse of gold for himself.
He dressed quickly and climbed up the stairs to where several English guards were watching the surrounding countryside. He stared disconsolately as the six riders grew smaller and smaller, and finally disappeared, and wondered who among them would not reach Avignon.
During the ride to Windsor, Alejandro stayed close to the leader of his escort, who had served with King Edward in France, and had become accomplished in the language. Alejandro pestered him continually, inquiring about the names of common everyday items, requesting advice on the proper way to greet, address, and take leave of the English royals. His tutor was at first amused, but eventually grew tired of the young man’s incessant questions. He was glad to reach the gates of the castle and deliver Alejandro to his destination.
He found Windsor to be an enormous stronghold, with thick stone walls and magnificent towers rising high above the level of the surrounding forest. A man of stately carriage, attired in rich garments and with a noble air, greeted the physician in the lower courtyard.
“I am Sir John Chandos, advisor to King Edward and the prince of Wales, and I bid you welcome to our fair keep.” The physician returned the man’s neat bow, feeling rather clumsy. He was not accustomed to this courtly behavior.
“Pardon, monsieur, je ne comprends pas.”
“Ah, yes,” he said in French. “Our coarse language is unknown to you. Moi aussi, je préfère la langue française.” He continued in French, deferring to Alejandro’s need for a common tongue between them. “I am to accompany you to your apartment on the east terrace of the castle. We have prepared a suite of rooms for your stay, which I trust you shall find acceptable. The king has gone to great expense to see that His Holiness’ ambassador be given every consideration while staying in our kingdom.”
Alejandro followed Sir John through the courtyards, into the residential section of the castle. The rooms and passageways were all brightly lit with torches and candles, and as he passed beneath them he said, “I see that oil is not so dear in England as it is in Spain.”
Sir John laughed. “Oh, it is dear enough, but our king will not tolerate darkness in Windsor.”
They walked through a huge hall with an arched ceiling whose walls were hung with woven panels depicting glorious battle scenes. Three sets of swords were crossed over the hearth, encircled by several racks of giant antlers.
“What behemoth sported those horns?” Alejandro asked, pointing overhead. “And does such an animal live nearby? If so, tell me how I may avoid it.”
Sir John laughed. “You need not fear, for those horns are very old, and come from Irish elk; they were brought back from the bogs of Ireland by King Edward’s father. None have been seen fo
r hundreds of years, though they were said to be twice the size of a good horse.”
“They look more to have come from a good tree than a horse,” he said. “Everything here is so grand! I feel myself dwarfed. Are these Plantagenets such giants, then?”
“You would think so were you to see them in battle,” Sir John said, flushing with pride. “They have the look of Goliath in armor.”
And I am no David, Alejandro thought.
A long table, large enough to seat several families, dominated the center of the room; it was surrounded by dozens of chairs, all richly carved. The diamond-patterned floor was made of smooth marble in alternating colors of brown and black, with woven rugs and animal skins scattered about. As they left the room, they entered a long, brightly lit corridor. Turning right at its end, they continued walking past several closed doors, finally stopping at a small alcove.
Sir John opened the door and showed Alejandro through. The physician entered, looking around at his new home, awed by the fine furnishings and rich appointments.
“I believe you will find these rooms most comfortable, monsieur. You need only pull this bell cord for service, and your manservant will arrive shortly to ask your bidding.” Sir John paused, briefly allowing Alejandro to look around, then continued, “The family will gather for dinner in the grand hall at the sound of seven bells. It will be the king’s pleasure for you to join his repast. I will leave you now; I look forward to your company later. Good evening, Dr. Hernandez.”
At the sound of the bells Alejandro stopped his unpacking and listened carefully, counting to be sure of the time. He counted seven. Once again, he checked his apparel to see that it was in perfect order, for he had never worn such finery before, and had to think carefully about the proper wearing of each garment. With a final smoothing of the detested breeches he left his rooms and headed toward the great hall.
If he had found this room exquisite before, it was made even more so by the handsome company gathered there. A large assembly of splendidly attired people were listening to a minstrel who walked among them, his lute suspended from his shoulder by a colorfully embroidered strap.
A comely woman, fair and plump, sat in one of a pair of large wooden chairs with red velvet upholstery. Despite the radiance of her garments and jewels the woman had the pained look of deep sorrow on her face. He thought, This is the queen, whose daughter has so recently been taken from her. It is no wonder she looks so burdened.…
Alejandro looked around at the other occupants of the room. He stood back, hiding himself in the entry, observing the luminous gathering while avoiding discovery. There was much to notice here. He tried to guess which of these people were the sons and daughters of the royal couple. Nearly all were fair of skin and hair, with light eyes of blue or gray. One of the young ladies was heavily adorned with glittering jewels, and draped in lustrous satin; he took her to be a princess. One had hair of the most lustrous copper color—
Alejandro’s clandestine observation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a clarion, announcing the entry of an important person.
A man wearing a narrow gold crown in his graying hair strode briskly into the room, followed closely by a well-dressed younger man of similar appearance. Both were a good head taller than he himself, and both were blessed with fine manly figures. He would have taken them to be warriors of some note were they wearing armor. No one would fail to notice that they were father and son, nor would anyone fail to see that they were royal, or thought themselves to be. The assembly bowed nearly in unison as the king continued walking. The prince fell back and took his place among the others. Eventually, the king stopped in front of the seated woman Alejandro had taken to be the queen. He held out his hand to her, his eyes sparkling as he gazed upon her and, giggling like a girl, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her gently up to standing.
“My queen,” said the king, and gently kissed her hand. He led her through the bowing crowd and saw to it that she was comfortably seated, then walked ceremoniously to the other end of the table and lowered himself into a high-backed wood chair with velvet cushions. Once settled, he exhorted his guests to do the same.
There was a general scuffling of chairs as the guests arranged themselves around the great table. Alejandro saw one unoccupied seat, and realized to his embarrassment that it was probably for himself. He hastily started to enter the room, when he saw Sir John rise quickly from his seat, heading in his direction.
“Your Majesty,” Sir John said as he quickly approached the entering physician, “permit me to present Dr. Hernandez, the medical emissary sent to us by His Holiness Pope Clement. He has arrived just this afternoon.”
All eyes went immediately to Alejandro, including the piercing blue eyes of the king. The sovereign’s scrutiny of his unfamiliar guest was swift and penetrating. He examined the young man minutely, for Edward did not much like Clement, and trusted him even less. Despite their solicitous correspondence neither man was convinced of the other’s beneficent intentions.
Alejandro stood still for the intrusive inspection, not knowing what to do. Sir John held his shoulders fast, and Alejandro remained stationary, willing to let the knight be his guide.
Finally King Edward relaxed his gaze and said, “We are delighted, Dr. Hernandez, that you have traveled so far to be with our family. It is kind and generous of His Holiness to see to our protection by providing us with your services. Please join us for our evening meal. We are anxious to hear the news from Avignon, and shall depend on you to deliver it.”
The king nodded in the direction of the empty chair, and Alejandro felt himself guided toward it by the accommodating Sir John. He sat down and pulled his chair in toward the table. To his right was the fair and willowy princess he had noticed earlier. He looked at her and smiled politely.
“My father does not tolerate tardiness in his guests,” she said.
She looked directly at Alejandro and smiled coyly, and he felt all eyes turn toward him, waiting, no doubt, for his response.
This would be the impertinent Isabella, he thought. She is all de Chauliac said she would be. “Nor should he,” Alejandro said, “for a king deserves the highest regard from all his subjects.” Alejandro turned toward the king and plaintively continued, “Please forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty, for I am untutored in the customs of your kingdom. I am an ignorant Spaniard, a long way from the comforts of my home.”
He could not have done better, for the king prided himself on the graciousness of his court and was fanatically dedicated to the perfection of the art of hospitality. “We shall see that you are tutored in our ways, sir, so that you may feel comfortable here. I cannot tolerate any discomfort in my guests.”
Then the king laughed heartily. “According to the Holy Father, young man, you are far from ignorant. He has high praise and great esteem for your skills as a physician. But now you must forgive my ignorance, for I am remiss in my duties as your host. Please allow me to present you to my beloved Queen Philippa,” and he motioned in the queen’s direction.
Alejandro stood quickly, nearly knocking over his chair, and bowed deeply to the queen, who graciously nodded back. Hushed giggles rose up from the younger girls in the room, who found his sincere but clumsy bow very amusing.
“Please resume your seat, monsieur. It is I who am honored by your learned presence.”
Alejandro did as the queen had requested, blushing with embarrassment at his unsuccessful attempt to be polite.
“Dr. Hernandez,” the king continued, “it is my sincere hope that you can prescribe a treatment for my daughter’s sharp and hasty tongue.” He gestured in the direction of the girl who had earlier chastised him, and Alejandro saw the fuming look on her face. “We all suffer from Isabella’s uncontrollable urge to correct our imperfections. But look first to me for the cause of her affliction. I have spoiled my Isabella, and can blame no one but myself. I will now have you meet my son Edward, the prince of Wales.”
The young man who had enter
ed with the king said, “We are blessed by your presence, Doctor,” as he motioned for Alejandro to remain seated. “His Holiness has written much about your training and skills. He assures us you will bring our family safely through this scourge.”
He has made too much of my skills, I fear, he thought to himself. They did little good for the soldiers who fell ill on my journey here. He resolved to give a more realistic description of what he might do for the royal family of England as soon as he could speak to the king in privacy, for he did not wish to alarm the ladies.
The conversation turned to news of Europa, and all ears were attuned to Alejandro’s recounting of the journey from Avignon. He was grateful for the opportunity to speak, because his head was throbbing from the effort of listening to the two foreign tongues being spoken at the table. He told the group of his encounter with the revolting flagellants and of their barbaric attack on the traveling party; he described with great anguish the untimely death of the papal guards. The listeners were quietly attentive, each one absorbed in his own thoughts about Europa’s bleak situation.
The prince of Wales perceived the somber change in the company’s mood, and artfully steered the discourse in a lighter direction. “And how is it that you came to be in France, away from your native Spain, to capture the attention of the pope’s physician?”
He stretched the truth. “I took my medical training in Montpellier. All trained physicians in the area surrounding Avignon were summoned to appear before the pope’s personal physician, and he chose among us after observing our skills. Dr. de Chauliac imparted his special techniques for protecting the pope to those who were selected to go abroad.”
The talk turned to other subjects, most of it beyond his understanding. A musician played lightly on a harp as a fool cavorted to the cheerful notes, delighting all, but especially pleasing one small girl who sat on the other side of the princess. Her squeals of laughter were charming, and her effervescent glee infectious. Would that it were as infectious as the plague, Alejandro thought.
