The Queen's Vow: A Novel of Isabella of Castile by C. W. Gortner Page B

matter-of-factly, “Of course not. Who ever heard of an infanta of Castile acting the common spy? Leave that to me.”
    Glancing at her now as she handed our valises to a retainer, I had no doubt she was up to the task. She’d been in a whirlwind of anticipation ever since she’d learned of our departure, going about her chores with a skip in her step, as though we were preparing for a festival. She had practiced her deportment (she was terrible at curtsies) several times a day and had finally declared, much to Doña Clara’s outrage, that she’d rather learn to use a sword. The only regret she’d expressed thus far was leaving her father; Don Bobadilla would remain behind with my mother. I admired her pluck even as I thought she might be in for an unpleasant surprise. It was one thing to long for adventure, quite another to find oneself plunged into it.
    We stood together on the threshold of the castle waiting for Alfonso to return from chaining the dogs so they would not follow us. He was being stoic, but I could tell he wasn’t as confident as he feigned, though I’d taken Beatriz’s advice and spared him any more mention of my private fears. Meeting Villena had been Alfonso’s first experience with acourtier; I suspected it had unsettled him. It seemed he was starting to realize the reality of what our leaving might entail.
    Nevertheless, being Alfonso, he put on a brave face. “The marquis says we should leave soon if we want to reach Segovia before nightfall.”
    I nodded, turning to my mother, who waited on a chair, her wrap clutched about her, a ringed hand at her throat. As she stood, the rising wind tugged at her veil, revealing tendrils of silver-white at her temples. Alfonso got up on tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Her expression softened; tears moistened her eyes as she gathered him close. I heard her say, “You are an infante of Trastámara. Never forget that,” and then he stepped aside for me.
    I kissed her cheeks. “
Adiós
, Mama. May God keep you; I’ll write as soon as I can.”
    She gave a terse nod. “And you,
hija mía
. Be well. Go with God.”
    I turned to my
aya
. I’d never known a day when Doña Clara hadn’t been there to remonstrate and guide me, to watch over me and keep me from harm. But I did not expect any outward display from her, nor would she condone it from me. However, I felt her sturdy body tremble as we embraced and heard the catch in her voice when she said, “Remember everything I’ve taught you. Remember, you must never give in to passion. I’ve kept you safe for as long as I could. Now, you must prove to the world who you are.”
    As she released me, the enormity of our departure overcame me. I wanted to fall on my knees, plead with my mother to let me stay. But her expression was remorseless and so I went to Alfonso, itching to take his hand and never let it go.
    Don Chacón, who, much to my relief, was accompanying us to court, led us to our waiting horses. After he helped me mount Canela and took his place in the entourage, Girón grunted from his destrier: “That’s a pretty toy horse. But it’s a long ride to Segovia and we’ve no time for tender hooves. Wouldn’t you rather ride up here with me? There’s plenty of room on my saddle.”
    “Canela is sturdier than he looks,” I retorted and took up the reins. “He’s a gift from the king, as well.”
    A shadow darkened Girón’s face. He reeled away from me andshouted at the retainers to move. As we lumbered out of the gates, Alfonso rode to my side. I resisted the urge to glance back, fixing my gaze ahead, when all of a sudden Alfonso’s dog Alarcón broke free from its tether and bounded forward, letting out a determined bark.
    Villena raised his whip. Alfonso cried, “No, don’t harm him!” and the marquis glowered, spurring his horse to canter forth, leaving Alfonso to order, “No, Alarcón. Go back!” He flung out his arm toward the castle. “Go back home!”
    The dog whimpered, sitting on