Anachronist Abroad: Sevilla Part II

by Dona Anabel Ravaya de Guzman

After our visit to La Catedral, we walked but a few paces to the
Alcazar Real, the Royal Castle, built by the Moors in 913-914, enlarged
over the years by Moor and Christian monarch alike.  It was the home of
the likes of Abd er-Rahman III, Al-Mutamid, Abu Yacqub-Yusuf, and later
Fernando III, Alfonso X, and Isabel and Fernando the Catholic.  It was
among the great fragrant gardens, verdant labyrinths and quiet
fountains within its walls that Pedro the Cruel (or the Just, depending
on your political leanings) courted Maria de Padilla and made her his
mistress, as his father Aflonso XI had done for Leonor de Guzman (no
relation, I assure you).

Maria fared better than Leonor before her.  Leonor had given the king
10 illegitimate children.  When the King Alfonso XI died, his wife,
Maria de Portugal, had her rival imprisoned and beheaded.  Queenly
revenge, indeed. Maria de Padilla died of natural causes and was buried
in the Capilla Real of the Catedral, where Pedro would eventually
follow her.  Pedro's wife, Blanca de Borbon, was executed in 1361,
following his half-brother Fadrique in 1358, both accused of an
adulterous affair and of plotting to take the throne.  (Women
everywhere might well question the equity of these affairs, but not too
loudly back then.  Well, at least Pedro married de Padilla, stayed
loyal to her, and made sure her children were first in line for
succession, unlike a certain English monarch...)

Ah, but the rooms of this palace, the intricate plaster arches, glazed
tiles and marble floors and fountains, and the beautifully carved,
inlaid and painted wooden ceilings and doors could make one forget the
bloodier events which took place within its walls.  Alfonso XI and
Pedro after him had some of the best mudejar craftsmen from as far away
as Toledo expand this palace.

It was here that Alfonso X the Learned would find the inspiration to
compile and compose his Cantigas de Santa Maria.  It was here that
Isabel la Catolica founded the Casa de la Contratacion de las Indias, a
chamber of commerce for the Americas, and where she received Colon and
those who followed him after their journeys to the New World.  In the
Casa de la Contratacion the Spanish Admiralty was born, and Nunez de
Balboa and Hernando de Magallanes organized their voyages.  In the
admiralty hall, I'm sure the heralds I know would salivate upon seeing
the collection of devices blazoned for these and other brave sea-faring
souls.

My favorite room of all was the Patio de las Munecas, a small, delicate
inner courtyard of elegant marble columns, intricate capitals and
arches.  (Even if it is the room where Pedro killed his half-brother
and murdered Abu Said of Granada for his jewels.)

My aunt and I spent most of the afternoon in this palace, but were
shooed out when it closed (far too early in the day, in my opinion).
We strolled the streets of Barrio de Santa Cruz, the old Jewish
quarter, wandering its twisting narrow alleys, cobbled streets and
whitewashed houses adorned with delicately wrought iron rejas at the
windows.

We then decided to be a little extravagant and spend a little money on
a panoramic carriage ride around the old city.  During this ride we
passed the statute honoring Don Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, El Cid
Campeador, who had defended the city against the forces of the King of
Granada so long ago.  Mio Cid is astride his horse Babieca, caught in
the middle of a spirited canter, left foreleg raised high, the hoof
nobly posed, the right rear hoof just leaving the ground.  El Campeador
holds a shield on his left arm, his right hand raised high and holding
a pennon.  At nightfall, we boarded a boat which took us up and down
the Guadalquivir, showing us as beautifully lit a city as would any
boat ride along the Seine in Paris.

Master Minolta took a great many sketches that day.  But the following
morning, while we were having breakfast in the salon of our inn, a
gypsy seduced and made away with the illuminator who had served me well
for over a year.  My back was turned for but a moment while I went to
the breakfast table; I returned to find my illuminator, as well as my
purse and passport, gone. All of his sketches of Sevilla went with him,
and I spent most of the rest of the day at the constabulary reporting
the theft.  Thankfully, most of my money was in the safe in my room,
and the following day I got letters of transport from the American
Consulate in lieu of a passport.

This cast a brief pall on my travels, and my aunt was in a high dudgeon
over the theft.  The hoteliers were not much help, and were in fact
rather rude; I do not recommend anyone visiting Sevilla to stay at the
Hotel Becquer.  I had to hire local illuminators, far inferior to my
former servant, to make pale substitutes of the  renderings made the
day before.  I walked around the old city once more, but could not
re-enter the Alcazar, as it was closed.  I did, however, see the
building, which now houses a bank and several other businesses, that
was once the debtors' prison where Cervantes once languished and began
to write one of the most-read books after the Bible, his adventures of
Don Quixote de la Mancha.

Our slow caravan for Granada was to depart in the early evening, so we
spent our last afternoon in the Parque de Maria Luisa, a large park
full of tiled fountains and flowers and bridle paths. Next to it is the
Plaza de Espana, a gorgeous building of neo-gothic/mudejar/Renaissance
style which was the centerpiece of the Latin-American Exhibition of
1929.  It is semi-circular and surrounds an ornamental lake where
rowboats can be rented.  Four beautifully tiled bridges cross the lake,
and 50 azulejo pictures of the major cities or provinces of Spain are
on the walls.  In this peaceful place we wound down from a tense time
and were then able to enjoy the splendor of Granada, the next and last
stop on our journey.


from the April 1998 Seahorse