Legacy Part 1 of 1

*I have had requests to post the next part of my short story, Legacy. Well, here it is! For all who have not seen the giveaway yet, the giveaway ends Sunday, February 22nd, 2009. You have 4 days left to enter.*

Part #1:
“I got it, I caught the fish! Cogí un pez!” The dark haired little boy waved a fish in the air, which received applause from his sister. Isabella was braiding wildflowers into her long dark hair, but she smiled when her brother called her. Isa was ten years old, only seven years after the exile. She, along with her brother and foster mother, were re-located to Segovia after their father died, leaving their half brother, Henry the IV, as heir. Isabella was still saddened about her father’s death, but she tried not to show it. She knew Alfonso’s health was delicate and her foster mother worked from sun up to sun down to provide for them. Isabella couldn't’t count how many times she would wake up in the night and hear weeping. Madre is working so hard for us. All because Henry had to be such a odio egoista tonto! He was always a hateful selfish fool, but I never thought it would come to this. Isabella threw aside her daisy chain and lay back in the soft grass. The Spanish moss trees drooped overhead, and Isabella smiled. “Isa, Isa, you must come quickly! Madre says to hurry!” Alfonso shouted from across the stream, and Isa quickly leaped to her feet. Grabbing her cloak off a nearby bush, she followed her brother across a wheat field and into the small village where they lived. Smiling at their elderly neighbor, she dashed into their house; stopping short when she saw a knight of Castile. She quietly sat down on a mat and listened to what the man, who she recognized as her father’s most trusted knight, had to say.

“King Henry has summoned the young children, Isabella and Alfonso, to court. His summons cannot be denied. I have brought a royal carriage for them to travel in, and boarding has been taken care of.” Isabella quickly looked at her mother, who looked shocked and a mite dazed. “Of course, orders are orders. When do we leave?” Isa’s foster mother asked, rising to curtsy. “That is one problem. You are not to come. That was a stipulation that was clearly stated by the king himself.” Isa and Alfonso’s faces paled and their mother drew herself tall. “They will not move one step without their Madre. Surely the king can understand that.” The knight shook his head, gathered the children, and set them inside the carriage. “NO! Madre, a dejar decirle que! Tell him to stop, please!” Alfonso wept and pleaded with the guards. They are taking us away yet again. Taking us away from another mother. Will these tyrants stop at nothing? Isabella sunk into her seat, sobbing as the carriage pulled away from the village. Madre, weeping and shaking her head, went inside to cry in private. The elderly neighbor followed her inside, where she found her lying on the floor: she had fainted in her grief.

Three days went by, the hours seeming longer and longer for the children. No room to play, barely any to sleep, and the food was stale and moldy. Isabella and Alfonso read prayers to each other as their only comfort. “Lord, you are holy and mighty. You shall deliver us out of this venomous pit of doom. “ Isa spoke, Alfonso resting his head on her shoulder. They stayed in this position until their arrival at Castile. They were led out of the carriage and into the castle, where two maid servants were awaiting them. “Lucille, Cecelia: these are the two charges. Take good care of them, and do not let them wander out of your peripheral line of vision. Understood?” When the maids nodded, the guard marched down the corridor.

Legacy: a Short Story in Progress

This is my homemade book cover for a new short story I am working on about a real life girl: Isabella of Castile. The story follows from age three until her secret marriage to Ferdinand, heir to Aragon. I researched her extensively, and whats really neat about writing fiction based on a true story is that the characters are already named, the story is written, and all I need to do is write about it and flesh out some details. Here is the prologue to Legacy; hopefully as I write more, I will post more of the story. But for now, here is the beginning:

Prologue:
Shy. Sweet. Innocent. Those were the words Isabella would have used to describe the reflection she saw staring back at her. She was only three years old, but wise beyond her years, her mother often times said. Her father had bought her first pony, and she spent much of the day riding it. She was just getting ready to have supper when her mother rushed up to her room, with a frightened expression on her face. “Isabel! Date prisa, no tenemos mucho tiempo! Tenemos que apurarnos y dejar! Ahora!” Isabella knew enough to know not to question her mother when she spoke so hurried. Isa quickly grabbed her cloak and a bag of possessions and ran with her mother. They went into the nursery, where Isa’s little brother, Alfonso, slept soundly. The queen wakened the sleeping infant, wrapped him in a blanket, and rushed out. Where are we going? I am so confundido! Isa thought as they ran to the stables, where they both collapsed into the hay.

“Madre, what is going on? Why are we running?” Isabella asked, gasping for breath while her mother patted her head. “My dear little Niña, your father has passed on. He died quietly in his sleep and is now gone.” The queen saw two silent tears run down the small child’s face as Isabella hugged her knees to her chest. “I am afraid that is not all. Not one hour after your father’s death, your half hermano has been crowned king.” Isabella’s eyes widened. Her half brother, Henry IV, was a cruel man interested only in himself. “What will he do to us? Aren’t you still queen?” Isabella’s thoughts ran at the speed of light while her mother rose. Isa stood and lifted the hood of her cloak. “He is splitting us up so we can no longer be together. My hand maiden, Maria, will watch over you and be your mother until we can be together on day. Learn to call her Madre and love her like you do me. You must have the strength of a lioness and the sharpness of a serpent. Now go and be a strong warrior angel.” The queen’s words rang in Isabella’s mind as she and her new ‘mother’ rode towards the road out of Portugal.

At a stop in a small village outside of Portugal, Isa asked her Madre to dictate a letter to a very important person:
Jesús, nos ayudan a estar cerca de nosotros oh señor su humilde servidor, ~Isabella~
This translated means:
Help us Jesus Be near us oh lord Your humble servant, Isabella

This was the beginning of some new adventure, and the end of everything Isa ever knew. She knew that if she wanted to survive, she needed strength. This simple child’s prayer would become a hero’s legacy.
This is Isabella’s story.