Castile for Isabella

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The Alcazar was set high on a cliff from which could be seen the far-off peaks of the Guadarrama Sierras and the plain, watered by the Manzanares River. It was an impressive pile of stone which had grown up round what had once been a mighty fortress erected by the Moorish conquerors of Spain. Now it was one of the Palaces of the Kings of Castile.

At a window of this Palace, a four-year-old child stood looking towards the snow-topped peaks of the distant mountains, but the grandeur of the scenery was lost to her, for she was thinking of events inside the granite walls.

She was afraid, but this was not apparent. Her blue eyes were serene; although she was so young, she had already learned to hide her emotions, and fear above all must be kept hidden.

Something extraordinary was happening in the Palace, and it was something quite alarming. Isabella shivered.

There had been much coming and going in the royal apartments. She had seen the messengers hurrying through the patios, stopping to whisper with others in the great rooms and shake their heads as though they were prophesying dire disaster, or wearing that excited look which, she knew, meant that they were probably the bearers of bad news.

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