ONE
Throughout most of Spanish history, and particularly in the Middles Ages, when bloodlines determined who would rule, the birth of a prince or princess in Castile was a cause for national jubilation. The child’s arrival was breathlessly anticipated and often intimately observed by the nation’s highest-ranking families, who competed for the right to attend the delivery. Street festivals were orchestrated; gifts were exchanged; the child’s baptism was a particularly reverent celebration.
But when Isabella, the daughter of King Juan II, arrived in this world in late April 1451, this was not the case. Castile already had a male heir, Isabella’s older half brother, Enrique, born to Juan’s first wife, and the line of succession seemed set. Prince Enrique was twenty-six, married, and already had a court of his own. Enrique’s children, when they came along, would presumably rule when Enrique died.
Isabella’s own mother, who was twenty-three years old, was Juan’s second wife, and King Juan had not been there when the baby was delivered. Isabella was born on a Thursday afternoon “in a small alcove of an airless second-floor bedroom,” in an unprepossessing brick palace built around a Roman-style central patio.1 There was not even a fireplace in the room; a smoky coal brazier supplied the only heat. The birth occurred in Madrigal de las Altas Torres, an out-of-the-way farm town in the north-central part of the Iberian peninsula, in a place where the men of the family frequently stashed unwanted female relatives. Just a few thousand residents lived there, huddled behind walls that protected them from attack. The baby’s mother, Juan’s wife, was Isabel of Portugal, and her mother in turn was Isabel of Barcelos, also from Portugal, and so the baby was named Isabel, or Isabella, after her mother and grandmother—Isabel in its Spanish and Portuguese forms, or Anglicized as Isabella. The baby was therefore half Portuguese. It was long-established custom among the ruling families of Iberia, whether Portuguese, Castilian, or Aragonese, to name children after their grandparents, and so Isabella was named after the Portuguese side of the family.
Several days after his wife gave birth, King Juan sent out messengers to several large cities telling officials the news of the delivery, but he did so in such an offhand way that it has been difficult to determine the exact date. It was probably on April 22. In a letter dated April 23, sent from Madrid, Juan informed officials in Segovia that his wife had borne a princess “thanks to the grace of Our Lord,” on the previous Thursday.2
Archivists are equally unsure where the child was baptized. Royal baptisms tended to be freighted with both political and religious significance. The baptism of an heir to the throne was generally performed with ritual splendor in one of the finest cathedrals in the land. No chronicle reports the king’s attendance at this ceremony, however. It was probably held in Madrigal at the local Church of St. Nicholas. The fact that nobody knows where Isabella was baptized underscores the general lack of interest in the baby’s arrival.
Isabella’s birth was in many ways almost a distraction, for her parents were preoccupied by the political intrigue swirling around them. Her father was approaching an acrimonious, fatal parting of the ways with his closest friend and adviser, Álvaro de Luna, a man who was both brilliant and ruthless. Isabella’s mother was prodding her husband along toward this split. The consequences were likely to prove significant. Álvaro had orchestrated the marriage between Isabella’s parents, possibly after nudging King Juan’s first wife along to the afterlife by poisoning her. That first wife, María of Aragon, who had once ordered Álvaro de Luna to leave the court, had suddenly developed swollen purple marks all over her body and collapsed; her sister, an ally who lived in a distant city, died the same week from the same strange affliction.3 Queen Isabel had reason to believe that she too might be at risk if her actions were seen to be jeopardizing Álvaro’s steely grip over her husband and his administration. Yet she sought that outcome nonetheless.
She may have believed she had no choice. The circumstances of Juan’s young queen had been precarious from the start. It had been difficult to win the king’s heart. Juan had preferred to take a luscious French princess for his second wife, but Álvaro, “secretly and without the knowledge of the king,” had decided that a Portuguese alliance was more advantageous for the realm.4 He negotiated the terms of the marriage without informing Juan, and the king had been miffed when he learned he would have no further say in the matter. The king’s displeasure had been common knowledge inside the court.
Isabel, the unwanted bride, arrived in Castile in 1447, accompanied by a Portuguese retinue, and set about doing what she could to secure her husband’s love. Juan, forty-two, was a cultivated and sophisticated man who read philosophy and literature and was an avid enthusiast of the early Renaissance painting techniques being pioneered in Burgundy. Tall, blue-eyed, and ruddy-skinned, he was also worldly and pleasure-loving, with a roving eye. The nineteen-year-old bride soon found herself having to compete for her husband’s affections. She tried to make herself as agreeable as possible, doing as she was asked, but worried when she did not quickly become pregnant.5 If she failed to conceive, her husband might attempt to have the marriage annulled or have her sent away into seclusion and disgrace. Most women then were valued primarily for their ability to produce offspring, an obligation even more pronounced among royalty. If she failed to produce a child, she would be viewed as almost worthless.
Not surprisingly, the queen felt threatened by the young and beautiful women at court. Even one of her own ladies-in-waiting, Beatriz de Silva, had attracted the king’s attention. Isabel must have been at the limits of her patience, because she had the offending woman seized and thrown into a cupboard in the basement, without access to food or drink, for three days. The woman finally emerged, claiming she had had a religious conversion during her imprisonment, kept her face covered for the remainder of her life to conceal her beauty, and went on to found a religious order. Queen Isabel’s furious reaction to a woman she perceived as a rival indicated that the marriage was on a rocky footing. As time went on, however, Juan became more fond of his wife. After baby Isabella was born, Queen Isabel bore the king a second child, the prince Alfonso, two years later, a birth that attracted considerably more favorable attention. King Juan now had a male heir and a spare.
Queen Isabel’s testy relationship with Álvaro de Luna complicated the process of strengthening her marriage. Álvaro and King Juan were in the custom of going off together on debauched revels, with a nunnery-turned-brothel one of their favorite destinations. Álvaro maintained tight controls over Juan’s comings and goings, even dictating to the couple when they were permitted to enjoy conjugal relations. He held remarkable sway over the king, whom he had manipulated into transferring vast properties and honors into his hands, making him by far the wealthiest man in the kingdom. Álvaro had been appointed constable of Castile, which made him the kingdom’s leading military officer, and was also named grand master of the Order of Santiago, Castile’s wealthiest order of monastic knights. In that role alone, Álvaro controlled more than sixty towns and castles and commanded 100,000 vassals.6
King Juan had given him almost total control over the kingdom. Wits in Castile joked that thanks to Álvaro de Luna, Juan “had no other task except to eat.”7
Queen Isabel was understandably unhappy with the situation, and even more so after she made a surprise visit to her husband in the important Castilian city of Valladolid and slept with him in his chambers that night. Álvaro was furious when he learned she was there and hastened over to the palace, where he pounded on the bedroom door. “Were you not told that you were not supposed to come?” he shouted angrily at her in front of a circle of court observers, who were astonished by the ferocity of the exchange.8 On another occasion, he made an explicit threat to the queen: “I married you, and I’ll unmarry you,” he said.9
Queen Isabel was not the only person who viewed Álvaro de Luna with enmity. His privileged position stirred envy among many of the other nobles, particularly the king’s relatives, who thought they should be receiving King Juan’s bounty, instead of Álvaro de Luna. The man’s high-handed tactics and greed were widely criticized almost everywhere. Six years into his second marriage, King Juan finally summoned the courage to face down Álvaro and ordered him executed. The courtier was beheaded in 1453 in a humiliating public ceremony in the main square of Valladolid. This bold demonstration of royal power sent ripples of shock across the kingdom. Almost immediately, however, Juan regretted the decision, because it meant he needed to shoulder the burdens of rule on his own, something he had never wanted to do. He fell into depression and, within a year, died at the age of forty-nine.
This loss of her husband was another blow to the unhappy young queen. She slipped into what chroniclers called profunda tristeza, or a deep sadness, speaking only seldom and staring vacantly into space, perhaps at first as a result of postnatal depression and then from loneliness and grief.10 She believed that she was being haunted by Álvaro de Luna and sometimes fancied she could hear his mournful cries in the wind on bitter nights. The young Isabella was left virtually parentless, observers noted, a condition that bound her tightly to the younger brother who shared her tenuous childhood. The two children clung to each other.
The fateful breakdown in the lifelong political alliance between the king and Álvaro de Luna came at a bad time for Castile, which was already at a low point in its history. The kingdom was splintered by political squabbles between nobles and by even more dangerous rivalries between the king and his cousins in the adjacent Kingdom of Aragon, who were forever hoping to take control of Castile themselves. The countryside was wracked with crime, but its rulers were distracted by a nearly constant string of civil wars.
Isabella’s older half brother Enrique took the throne at King Juan’s death, when she was three. The first few years of his royal administration were successful, but then many of the same problems that had haunted their father’s reign reemerged.
The personal and political tumult reverberated in Isabella’s life. Enrique had many good qualities but also a number of character flaws, which were exacerbated in relation to Isabella because of tensions within the stepfamily. As ruler of Castile, King Enrique now possessed complete power over his stepmother, Queen Isabel, who as a dowager queen deserved to be viewed with maternal respect but was in fact three years younger than her stepson. The emotions among the siblings were a boiling cauldron of love and resentment. King Enrique did little to nurture his younger sister and brother, and instead their relationship with him became a source of tension and fear.
With such an unpredictable childhood, it was not surprising that Isabella took consolation in an institution that provided the greatest single source of stability to her daily routine: the Catholic Church, whose rituals dominated the lives of European Christians during the Middle Ages. The tick-tock clock of life in the medieval world was the church and its ecclesiastical calendar. Church bells tolled to the schedule of services—matins, vespers, vigils at midnight; each day of the year belonged to a particular saint, who was due special reverence and specific forms of veneration. Religion played an even bigger role in Isabella’s life than for most people of the age, because the Castilian court was essentially itinerant, moving from palace to palace around the kingdom. Each residence also served as a monastery or convent to house priests and nuns who maintained the houses in the absence of the royal family and so were present in the homes whenever the family visited. Isabella grew up surrounded by clerics.
This child who had lost her parents so early turned to the church and its teachings for moral guidance, and Isabella became extremely susceptible to influences from church officials, particularly those who gave evidence of living lives of abstemious self-denial. Cleaning and building the church, purifying it from corruption, causing it to grow, and maintaining it without a taint of stain or heresy became a primary life preoccupation for her. Sin and punishment were recurring motifs for Isabella, who believed that all humans were descended from the surviving sons of Noah, who had sailed to safety when God drowned the rest of mankind in anger over human wrongdoing. She loved the New Testament, but she lived by the rigid morality of the Old Testament. She was always more inclined to claim an eye for an eye than to turn the other cheek.
Her worldview and religious perspective had been shaped by events that had happened on the other end of the Mediterranean Sea many hundreds of years before her birth. Four men in particular, three men from the Levant, and a fourth, Muhammad, born on the Arabian peninsula, had reported they heard God speaking to them, and each had said and done things that had had repercussions for centuries. The first three were Abraham and Moses, both Jews, and Jesus, born and raised a Jew, who went on to announce a new religion. The lives and actions of these first three men were vividly depicted around her, in the paintings, tapestries, sculptures, books, and illustrated manuscripts that filled the churches and palaces where she spent her days and nights.
Abraham was a prophet who rejected the worship of idols and embraced the concept of a single, all-powerful God to whom submission in all things was required. He is viewed as the forefather of the Jewish people. Moses was a prophet who introduced the Ten Commandments, a basic code of conduct for moral living, which were words he said came directly from God. Jesus was a Jew who proposed a group of variations on Judaism and called for his followers to proselytize and seek out new converts to their reform faith, which came to be known as Christianity.
Conflicts from that ancient time would still be felt in Isabella’s Spain. The Christians were angry that the Jews did not accept Jesus’s teachings and their account of the resurrection. Moreover, they believed that Jewish rulers had played a role in Jesus’s death by crucifixion and had later persecuted the followers of Jesus. Jews, on the other hand, believed that Jesus had been executed by the Romans and that they had been unfairly charged with complicity. They did not want to change their beliefs. Obsessing over these different perspectives meant that innocent people born many years after these events had occurred could become scapegoats for religious fanatics and anti-Semites, even as far away as Spain.
Spain itself made several appearances in the New Testament. At one point Saint Paul said he planned to visit there; Saint Jerome later described the route Paul had taken. Another apostle of Jesus’s, Saint James—or in Spanish, Santiago—was also believed to have traveled to Spain, and although evidence for this journey was scanty, his arrival and burial in northern Spain became an article of faith to the pious Christians of western Europe and made the town of Santiago de Compostela one of the most important pilgrimage destinations in Christendom.11 That meant that many Christians in Europe traveled to the north of Spain, through the region known as Galicia, and problems inside Spain during the Middle Ages had political and religious reverberations elsewhere.
Spain also continued to feel the influences of classical Greek and Roman civilization. Isabella and her family believed themselves to be descended from Hercules, the legendary warrior, half-God and half-mortal. They believed the hero had personally founded the cities of Arévalo, Segovia, Ávila, and Salamanca, places that Isabella knew well. Hercules was particularly associated with an ancient lighthouse, 180 feet tall, dating from the Phoenician era, overlooking the coast of Galicia in northern Spain, in an area notorious for shipwrecks. Its construction would have been viewed as a remarkable engineering feat, even in Isabella’s day. It was a surviving illustration of the ways in which Greek mythology and biblical tales intermingled in the Spanish mind. A history book that Isabella commissioned and helped edit, Diego de Valera’s Chronicle of Spain, published in 1493, highlighted the kingdom’s ties to Greece. The dedication even pointedly referred to Isabella’s ancestral title of Duchess of Athens through her marriage to Ferdinand.
The belief that magical or mythological figures such as Hercules played a role in Spain’s past would not have seemed terribly far-fetched, for awe-inspiring Roman ruins were everywhere. In Segovia, the gemlike town that would prove so central to Isabella’s formative years, the old Roman aqueduct transported clean mountain water from more than twenty miles away, in its last stages bridging a valley ninety-four feet deep. Many other cities in Spain had once been flourishing Roman centers as well, including Seville,Salamanca, and Zaragoza. Some of the most famous Roman writers hailed from Iberia, including Martial, Lucan, and Seneca the Elder; the emperors Hadrian and Trajan had been born near Seville.12
The land then known as Hispania had been declared a Roman province by Emperor Augustus in 38 B.C., and for the next six centuries the peninsula’s history was intermingled with that of the great Roman Empire. “The Romans built not only highways, theaters, circuses, bridges, aqueducts, and temples; they also brought their political and juridical institutions and their concepts of social and family life,” wrote the French historian Jean Descola.13
Isabella’s birthplace, the palace in Madrigal, with its chambers facing a central area or patio, was not unique in its Roman-style design. Many homes were similarly built in that fashion, with rooms opening onto an arcade around a central atrium. The inhabitants of the Iberian peninsula adopted Greco-Roman customs and manners, and in time, Spaniards were sometimes referred to as Greeks themselves. In the age-old pattern, religious observance followed political power. The pantheon of Greek and Roman gods held sway until the Roman emperor Constantine made Christianity permissible in 312, beginning a new era of cooperation between church and state. As Christianity became ascendant over pagan forms of worship, the persecutions of Christians by the Romans finally stopped. The imperial endorsement ushered in an explosive expansion in the number of followers of Christianity. Even small villages built their own churches. An ecclesiastical hierarchy linked all the Christian churches throughout the Roman Empire. Five major religiousseats developed: Antioch, Jerusalem, Alexandria, Rome, and Constantinople. Christianity became the primary religion in Europe and throughout the Near East and North Africa.
As the centuries passed and Rome’s power disintegrated, corruption and persistent waves of foreign invasion weakened the western half of the old Roman Empire. When the Visigoths, people of a Germanic stock, surged down from the Pyrenees into the Iberian peninsula in the fifth century, they quickly asserted dominance in the new power vacuum. Coming from the north, they tended to be blonder and taller than the dark-haired peoples of the Mediterranean. They crafted beautiful jewelry and created their own signature architectural styles. They made their capital in Toledo, in the heart of the peninsula, and eventually declared Christianity to be the official religion. The kingdom ruled by the Visigoths was the place that the historian Isidore of Seville proudly described as the “ornament of the world.”14 Isabella, who possessed the red-blond hair and gray-blue eyes of the Visigoths, saw herself as a descendant of that lineage, and the princess read Isidore’s account of the Visigothic era with avid interest, collecting several copies of his published work.
The Roman heritage and Christianity became interwoven, with the empire’s cultural and literary legacy preserved in various forms across Europe. By now the Roman Empire had split into two parts. Eastern Europe, with its capital in the great metropolis of Constantinople, became the heart of Christianity and the cultural center for the classical tradition, the home of the Byzantine Empire. Western Europe was politically fragmented by the barbarian invasions but retained its religious capital in Rome. Eventually the two branches of Christianity became estranged and developed doctrinal differences. The Orthodox Church in Constantinople viewed itself as maintaining the ancient traditions. In western Europe, including Spain, the Roman Catholic Church had primacy. The two branches of the Christian Church feuded with each other, adherents of each believing they were religiously superior to the other. Snubs became insults.
Spain was also home to a significant Jewish population, whose ancestors had been dispersed around the Mediterranean as part of their own persecutions by the Romans. They prospered, however, and among the Visigoths, jealousy and anti-Semitism arose. In the 600s, King Chintila ordered all the Jews expelled or forcibly converted. The seventeenth council of Toledo in 702 ordered the Jews enslaved and forbade them to marry. The Spanish did not fully enforce these harsh laws, however, and many Jews managed to carry on in Spain. Some declared themselves Christian for survival, not by choice, and deeply resented their mistreatment at the hands of the Visigoths.
By the early eighth century, the post-Roman, Germanic kingdoms of western Europe had grown weak and disorganized, leaving the area open to raiding expeditions by a new generation of outside invaders. To the north, the Vikings, explorers and pirates from Iceland, Greenland, and Scandinavia, surged into England, France, and Ireland and murdered, robbed, and terrorized the people living there.
In Spain, the threat came from the south, in the form of a new religion that built on the Jewish and Christian belief in the existence of a single God but added some notable features. It had been founded by the prophet Muhammad, a merchant who believed that religious truth had been revealed to him. Born in 570, he preached from about 613 to 632. He honored Jews and Christians for their precursor teachings but believed that Islam was the true faith, given to him directly as the final revelation from God. The new religion, called Islam—from an Arabic word that means “submission” or commitment to God—attracted scores of believers, and its burgeoning popularity threatened the existing social order in the Arabian peninsula.
Muhammad lived in Mecca, but as opposition to him grew, he moved to the nearby city of Medina. From there he turned and began a campaign against his former hometown. He launched raids against trading caravans, seizing valuable booty and hostages. While some Christians and Jews supported Muhammad, those who opposed him or cooperated with his enemies were exiled with loss of their lands, enslaved, or executed. By the time of his death, Muhammad was ruler of western Arabia. The Muslims spread the faith by evangelization and also by sending armed bands of believers to attack centers of opposition. Most of Palestine and Syria were seized in the 630s; Egypt was taken in 642. It was a wholesale colonial expansion. The Muslims occupied the southern half of the Byzantine Empire and replaced its leaders with people of Arabic origin. “Property and wealth . . . were redistributed on a grand scale,” writes the historian John Esposito.15
Islam presented unique challenges to Christianity. It was a competing religious philosophy, another proselytizing faith that established set patterns of worship and codes of behavior that followers found satisfying and helped their societies function more smoothly. “From its birth, the Islamic religion was the chief contender with Christianity for the hearts of men; Islamic civilization was the nearest neighbor and deadliest rival of European Christendom,” wrote the historian Bernard Lewis.16
Modeling their behavior on that of their warrior prophet Muhammad turned out to be an excellent blueprint for territorial expansion. Muhammad in fact had urged his followers to expand their dominions, calling on them to seize property and wealth through force of arms. Many captives were taken in these raiding excursions and distributed into the tribes and families of their captors. The female family members of defeated rulers were turned into wives or concubines. This process created an administrative and military machine that allowed Islam to explode into many areas almost simultaneously. Many men were eager to join the marauding forces, to expand the faith, to enrich themselves, or to find adventure.
Timing was also key to the Islamic successes. The Byzantine and Persian Empires had just finished fighting in prolonged conflict to the point of exhaustion. When the Muslim insurgency developed, they lacked the will and the resources to defend themselves.
The Muslims’ conquest of Spain came with blinding swiftness in 711, just twelve years after they vanquished North Africa. Full details of the conquest have been lost to time because the Visigothic civilization was destroyed and the Muslim culture superimposed, and as ordinarily occurs, history is told by the victors. A rare surviving Christian document, called the Chronicle of 754, blamed the almost-instantaneous disintegration of the Visigothic state on internal tensions that had left the kingdom unable to mobilize in the face of an outside threat. A new king, Roderic, had climbed to power in 711, but he was unpopular and inexperienced at ruling. A rival leader, angry at Roderic, aided and encouraged the Muslim invasion. The Christian chronicler described the invasion as horrific, with cities burned to the ground, men crucified, children killed, and looting everywhere. He compared the invasion to the great disasters of history, to “Adam’s fall, to the fall of Troy, to the Babylonian capture of Jerusalem and to the sack of Rome, writes historian Roger Collins.”17
Muslim accounts mirror that story but present the facts from a triumphant perspective. To them, the attack was religiously justified because Muhammad had said it was divine will that “every one of the regions . . . shall be subdued by my people.”18
The fullest account of the invasion comes from the Arab historian Ahmad ibn Muhammad Al-Maqqari, who wrote that events began with a preliminary foray by two vessels of soldiers who raided Andalusia, in the south of Spain, and came home “loaded with spoil.” They reported that they found a “a country with delightful valleys, and fertile lands, rich in all sorts of agricultural productions, watered by many large rivers, and abounding in springs of the sweetest waters.”19 The leaders of the foraging trip marveled at how close this bountiful land was to North Africa. “It’s not an ocean, but only a narrow channel,” one said to another, explaining the likely ease of conquest.20
Then a Berber warrior named Tarif Abu Zarah launched a larger raid with between five hundred and one thousand soldiers and returned with “a rich spoil and several captives, who were so handsome that Mu’sa and his companions had never seen the like of them.” And when word of his successful expedition spread, “everyone wished to go to Andalus,” Al-Maqqari wrote.21
A third and even more devastating raid was soon on its way, again led by Abu Zarah. He laid waste what fell in his path, burning down the homes of residents and destroying a church “very much venerated” by the residents, according to Al-Maqqari. “He then put to the sword such of its inhabitants as he met, and, making a few prisoners, returned safe to Africa.”22
Now plans were made for a large-scale invasion and permanent conquest. These were put in the hands of a warrior named Tarik ibn Zeyad ibn Abdillah, who entered southern Spain with thousands of soldiers, ferrying them across the eight-mile strait in four boats that shuttled back and forth until all the men had reached Europe. During the passage, Tarik was reported to have had a dream in which Muhammad promised him military success in the invasion. This mystical experience filled Tarik with confidence, and as soon as he arrived, he swept across the land and “began to overrun and lay waste the neighboring country,” wrote Al-Maqqari.23 They had entered Europe close by a giant rock formation at the southernmost point of Spain; the spot came to be known as Jabal Tarik, “Mountain of Tarik,” and in time, Gibraltar.24
Probably about fifteen thousand Arab and Berber soldiers participated in the invasion. The role of the Berbers, from Africa, seems to have been crucial. The Arab historian Ibn Khallikan said Tarik was a Berber and that his troops were primarily Berbers.25Generally speaking, the Spanish men were killed and the women and children were enslaved. The interest in taking women and not killing them suggests that few of the Arabs had brought their wives and families with them. The speed of movement of the Arab armies also suggests they traveled unencumbered.26
The Iberians were dumbstruck by the unexpected attacks. They attempted to respond, but their troops fell apart in chaos. Roderic was in the far distant north when the first major assault occurred. He quickly moved south and summoned troop reinforcements from all over the kingdom. Tarik similarly called for reinforcements from North Africa, and additional thousands of Muslim soldiers rallied to his side, in what seems to have been the first instance of Muslims reaching back to Africa to seek reinforcements against the Christians.
Tarik urged his soldiers to fight bravely, in the name of Allah, according to Al-Maqqari. “Know that if you only suffer for a while, you will reap in the end an abundant harvest of pleasures and enjoyments,” Tarik told his troops. “You must know how the . . . maidens, as handsome as houris, their necks glittering with innumerable pearls and jewels, their bodies clothed with tunics of costly silks sprinkled with gold, are awaiting your arrival, reclining on soft couches in the sumptuous palaces of crowned lords and princes.”27
The men roared their approval and rushed into battle. Roderic was killed, the Visigothic forces collapsed, and the Christians ran helter-skelter in disarray, fleeing in all directions. Roderic’s body was never found; he was believed to have drowned in a stream. “The Christians were obliged to shut themselves up in their castles and fortresses, and quitting the flat country, betake themselves to the mountains.”28
Now Tarif led attack after attack, conquering city after city. “God filled with terror and alarm the hearts of the idolaters,” Al-Maqqari wrote, for the Christians had originally believed the Muslims would invade, steal booty, and then depart for their homes in North Africa. Now they realized they were coming to seize and occupy the kingdom.29 Some cities quickly capitulated; others fought feebly to defend themselves.
Tarik, Al-Maqqari wrote, endeavored to increase the terror of the Christians by means of the following stratagem:
[H]e directed his men to cook the flesh of the slain in the presence of the Gothic captives in his camp, and when the flesh had thus been cooked in large copper vessels he ordered it to be cut up, as if it were to be distributed to his men for their meals; he after this allowed some of the captives to escape, that they might report to their countrymen what they had seen. And thus the stratagem produced the desired effect, since the report of the fugitives contributed in no small degree to increase the panic of the infidels.30
The Muslims spread out across the countryside, riding horses they had taken from the Christians, with the existing Roman roads making quick progress very easy. A Muslim soldier named Mugheyth Ar-rumi was ordered to attack Córdoba, a large city in the south of Spain, while other battalions went toward Málaga and Elviria. Tarik headed toward Toledo, the Visigothic capital, located near the center of the peninsula. In Córdoba, Mugheyth’s army surprised the sentries and overpowered the garrison stationed there. Some of the troops and the governor eluded capture and took refuge in a church near the city. The Muslims besieged the church for three months and finally grew tired of waiting, according to Arab historians. They ordered the refugees to convert to Islam or agree to pay tribute, and when they refused, the church was set on fire and the people within perished in the blaze.31
“After the taking of Córdoba,” Al-Maqqari wrote, “Mugheyth assembled all the Jews in the city and left them in charge of it, trusting them in preference to the Christians, on account of their hatred and animosity toward the latter.” Mugheyth then took possession of the palace as his own home and turned over the rest of the town to be inhabited by the Muslims.32
The same strategy was used in another town, Elviria, on the peninsula’s Mediterranean coast: “The citadel of this latter place they entrusted to the care of the Jews, and this practice became almost general in the succeeding years; for whenever the Muslims conquered a town, it was left in the custody of the Jews with only a few Muslims, the rest of the army proceeding to new conquests, and where Jews were deficient a proportionally greater body of Muslims was left in charge.”33
Tarik took a party of Jews with him to gain control of the capital city of Toledo, Al-Maqqari wrote. There they seized many items of great value, including
25 gold crowns, one for each of the Gothic monarchs who had reigned over Andalus, (It being the custom of that nation that each of their kings should deposit in that sacred spot a gold diadem, having his name, figure, and condition, the number of children he left, the length of his life, and that of his reign, engraven on it,) one and twenty copies of the Pentateuch, the Gospel, or the Psalms; the book of Abraham; and that of Moses, several other books containing secrets of nature and art, or treating about the manner of using plants, minerals, and living animals, beneficially for man; another which contained talismans of ancient Greek philosophers, and a collection of recipes and simples and elixirs; several gold vases filled with pearls, rubies, emeralds, topazes, and every description of precious stones; many lofty rooms filled with gold and tissue robes, and tunics of every variety of costly silk and satin, without counting gilt armor, richly set daggers and swords, bows, spears, and all sorts of offensive and defensive weapons.34
They also found a bejeweled table made of gold and silver, and encrusted with gems, which they were told had been owned by King Solomon. This became a highly coveted trophy of war and the soldiers broke it into pieces and fought over who should get each part.
The Christians fled northward, and those who stayed behind were permitted to remain only by paying tribute, Al-Maqqari wrote. The abandoned homes were occupied by the invaders. “The Arabs inhabited the towns deserted by the Christians; for whenever, an Arab or a Berber, received orders to settle in a spot, he . . . established himself with his family in it without reluctance, by means of which the words of Islam spread far into the country, and the idolatry of the Christians was destroyed and annihilated.” More North Africans and Arabs surged across the straits:
When the news of the mighty conquest had spread over the countries inhabited by the Muslims, great numbers of the population of Syria and other distant regions felt a strong desire to visit Andalus and take up their abode in it. Accordingly many individuals of the best and most illustrious among the Arabian tribes left the tents of their fathers and settled in Andalus.35
Many important cultural and religious sites were destroyed in the process; holy relics were discarded. The famous mosque of Córdoba was “lighted with bronze lamps made out of Christian bells,” Al-Maqqari wrote, “and [a] great addition . . . was built entirely with the materials of demolished churches brought to Córdoba on the heads of Christian captives.”36
This series of events was seared into the memories of many residents of Iberia. The history of Spain commissioned by Isabella contained many details of the conquest from the perspective of the defeated Iberians. “The land was depopulated and filled with tears and blood,” wrote the chronicler Diego de Valera. The women were “forced” and “children were killed,” and in some cities, “the major portion” of civilian residents were slaughtered.37
The Muslim advance into western Europe was finally halted at the Pyrenees Mountains, the rocky border between France and Spain, after the Frankish king Charles Martel defeated the Arab forces at Tours in 732.
Ultimately only a small remnant of an opposing Christian force remained active in Spain, in the far northern enclave of Asturias. “A despicable barbarian, whose name was Pelayo, rose in the land of Galicia, and having reproached his countrymen for their ignominious dependence and their cowardly flight, began to stir them up to revenge the past injuries, and to expel the Muslims from the land of their fathers,” Al-Maqqari wrote.
From that moment the Christians of Andalus began to resist the attacks of the Muslims on such districts as had remained in their possession, and to defend their wives and daughters; for until then they had not shown the least inclination to do either. The commencement of the rebellion started thus: there remained no city, town or village in Galicia but what was in the hands of the Muslims with the exception of a steep mountain on which this Pelayo took refuge with a handful of men; there his followers went on dying through hunger until he saw their numbers reduced to about thirty men and ten women, having no other food for support than the honey they gathered in crevices of the rocks which they themselves inhabited like so many bees. However, Pelayo and his men fortified themselves by degrees in the passes of the mountain until the Muslims were made acquainted with their preparations; but perceiving how few they were, they heeded not the advice conveyed to them, and allowed them to gather strength, saying, “What are 30 barbarians, perched upon a rock? They must inevitably die.”38
These remnants of the Visigoths survived, however, and eked out a living in the rainy, chilly provinces of Galicia and Asturias, far from the comfortable prosperity they had enjoyed as masters of the peninsula. Al-Maqqari’s account depicts them struggling for existence. In fact, Pelayo’s brother Favila was killed by a bear while hunting, which suggests they were reduced to hardscrabble survival. The heirs of the Visigoths spent the next twenty-four generations recovering the peninsula, inch by inch, mile by mile, mostly in fits and starts, until by Isabella’s birth the remaining Muslim stronghold in Spain was in the South, in the Kingdom of Granada. The Christian survival and advance were based on an intense collaboration between church and state that allowed them to remain a community through the long fight back to recover what they had lost. On the Iberian peninsula, church and state thus grew “closely united.”39
The story of Pelayo became central to Isabella’s frame of reference. She believed herself to be a direct lineal descendant of that stalwart Visigoth and the inheritor of his mantle. In the palace where she spent much of her childhood, the Alcázar of Segovia, statues of her ancestors stood in niches all around the walls, and Pelayo was presented as the first of her line. A statue of him stood in the throne room, making him a mute participant in every event that took place in the administration of the government.
In much of the rest of Spain, however, for the Christian and Jewish people who agreed to accept domination under the Muslims—also known in Spain as the Moors because of their arrival from Morocco—conditions were generally not particularly harsh. Many lived their lives with comfort. They were allowed to follow their own religion, as long as they paid extra taxes for the privilege. In the years following the conquest, many Spaniards converted to Islam. Some of the converts, known as muladíes, were sincere. But others only pretended to convert in order to curry favor with the ruling class. Similarly, some of the invading Berbers had themselves been reluctant or conflicted converts. The same was true of some Jews who converted.
The defeat of the Visigoths could not have been so complete or quick without the assistance of this mistreated minority, the Jews, some of whom welcomed the new arrivals and assisted them in governing their new possessions. For the Jews, life under the Muslims brought a marked improvement over the abuse they had suffered under the Visigoths. In time it allowed them to develop a golden era of literature, science, medicine, and poetry.
For the Christians, however, the role of the Jews in the defeat of the Visigoths, combined with old grievances over the treatment of the early Christian martyrs in the Holy Land, became dark and painful memories. Over the next seven hundred years, even as the three faiths coexisted and celebrated each other’s artistic, literary, and culinary achievements, angry hurt was a corrosive burr just under the surface.
“The time during which the Muslims and Christians, along with Jews, lived in proximity in the Iberian peninsula has often been cited as a kind of ideal era of interfaith harmony,” writes the historian Jane I. Smith.
To some extent that claim may be justified, but if so the era was fairly short and was soon supplanted by the tensions, prejudices, and treatment of minorities by both Muslims and Christians that more often has characterized relationships between the communities. By the tenth century the chaos of earlier invasions had settled, and the Iberian peninsula was pretty well split between the Christian Kingdom of Leon in the north and the considerably larger Muslim al-Andalus (known as Andalusia) in the south, with a thin frontier zone between. During the rule of Abd al-Rahman III in Córdoba (912–961), the Spanish Islamic state reached the height of power and fame. It was a time of great opulence and achievement, in which intellectual circles of Muslims, Jews and Christians under Abd al-Rahman’s patronage contributed to a flourishing of the arts, literature, astronomy, medicine, and other cultural and scientific disciplines. Muslim tolerance of the so-called People of the Book was high, and social intercourse was easy and constant. It was also a period during which a significant number of Christians chose to convert to Islam, although Christians continued to outnumber Muslims in Andalusia until the second half of the tenth century.40
Many Christians and Jews adopted Arab customs and styles of dress during these years.
Tolerance faded in the late tenth century during the rule of Abu Amir Al-Mansur, “who began a series of ruthless campaigns against Christians, including the plundering of churches and other Christian sites.”41 Social interactions grew strained, Smith writes:
Pious Muslims refrained from speaking to the infidels except at a distance. If a Muslim and a Christian met on a public road, the Christian always had to give way to the Muslim. Houses of Christians had to be lower than those of Muslims. An “infidel” Christian could never employ a Muslim in service.… Christians were buried in their own cemeteries, far from Muslims.… A Muslim who converted to Christianity was immediately sentenced to death.… Thus the era of harmonious interaction betweenMuslims and Christians in Spain came to an end, replaced by intolerance, prejudice and mutual suspicion.42
The accounts of a religious nirvana in Spain are “historically unfounded, a myth,”43 writes scholar Dario Fernández-Morera, because, in fact, many Christians and Jews were killed and brutalized by the Muslims in Spain. The Muslim ruler Al-Mansur, for example, inspired fear in people of other faiths and sacked the cities of Zaragoza, Osma, Zamora, León, Astorga, Coimbra, and Santiago de Compostela. In 985 he burned down Barcelona and enslaved the survivors he did not kill. In 1066 Muslims rioted and destroyed the entire Jewish community in Granada, killing thousands—more, in fact, than the numbers killed by Christians in the Rhineland at the beginning of the first Crusade. In the twelfth century, the Muslims expelled the entire population of Christians living in the cities of Málaga and Granada and sent them to Morocco.44
The Christians found a rallying cry when they discovered what they believed to be the burial place of Saint James (in Spanish, Santiago), the apostle who had reportedly set off for Spain, in the kingdom’s far northwest. They built a church, a humble structure with mud walls, to house the body. Soon the site, known as Santiago de Compostela, became the great pilgrimage destination for Christians throughout western Europe, and a more ornate structure was built there. In 997, the Muslims attacked and seized the town of Santiago. They preserved the tomb of Saint James but destroyed all the public buildings and razed many churches.45 Actions such as these had the effect of turning the Christian effort to recover land and territory into a crusade.
Even when Muslim rulers were tolerant, they viewed non-Muslims with contempt. “A Muslim must not act as a masseur to a Jew or Christian; he must not clear their rubbish nor clean their latrines,” wrote the Muslim jurist Ibn Abdun.
In fact, the Jew and the Christian are more suited for such work.… It is forbidden to sell a coat that has once belonged to a leper, a Jew or a Christian, unless the buyer is informed of its origin; likewise if this garment once belonged to a debauched person.… No Jew or Christian may be allowed to wear the dress of an aristocrat, nor of a jurist, nor of a wealthy individual.… A distinctive sign must be imposed upon them so they may be recognized and this will be for them a form of disgrace. . . . It is forbidden to sell to Jews and Christians scientific books.46
Issues that affected women were always of particular interest to Isabella, and gender relations also colored the perceptions of people living in Spain. All three great faiths—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—honored women in certain ways but were also patriarchal and made women second-class citizens in other significant ways. And while conditions for women in Christian Castile were far from ideal, conditions were arguably worse in the Muslim-occupied lands. Women’s activities there were legally restricted: They were not allowed to take boat trips with men; they were forbidden to wash clothes outside; they were banned from sitting on the river shore in the summer, when men were there. Moreover, they were required to wear voluminous clothing, such as the hijab, despite the sweltering heat of southern Spain; they were separated physically from men; they were generally confined to the household.47 These conditions of confinement would have been unimaginably awful for Isabella, who grew to be a strong, energetic, and physically active woman who traveled for miles on horseback, sometimes with only a handful of companions.
Another disturbing element for an independent-minded woman like Isabella was that tens of thousands of women were held in sexual servitude under the Moors. These lives are seldom depicted in art or literature, and male historians seldom mentioned them except in passing, so it is difficult to gauge what the lives of these women might have been like. One rare set of pictures of concubines appears in a set of illustrated manuscripts at El Escorial, capturing the mournful faces of women wearing diaphanous, see-through gowns while they serve food and drink to men playing chess and other board games.48
Polygamy was another divisive issue. It had been practiced in the early phases of all three religions, but it never faded away in the Islamic culture as it had in the other two. Muslim culture permitted men to have up to four wives but did not permit women to have multiple husbands. Muhammad had eleven recognized wives of various ages. Wealthy Muslim men could emulate the prophet by similarly maintaining stables of women, stocked in harems, with war providing a steady stream of females for this purpose. Men aspired to such a lifestyle. The Muslim ruler Abd Al-Rahman, the one often mentioned as the guiding light of the golden era of Granada, left two hundred children, 150 of them male and the rest female.49 He was reported to have 6,300 women in his harem.
It must have been disturbing to Isabella to imagine all the dejected first wives throughout the empire, lying in bed at night and overhearing their husbands making love with younger women, new wives who had been introduced to the family home.
It was difficult for Muslim rulers to obtain enough women on this scale by wooing them, so a brisk business developed in the trafficking of kidnapped Christian and Jewish women. They would be renamed once they were enslaved, and renamed again when impregnated, often with the prefix Umm, which means “mother of.” Thus, Egilona, wife of the unfortunate Visigoth king Roderic, wed to one of the Muslim soldiers, became known as Umm-Asim, or “The Mother of Asim.”
Many women did not find harem life appealing, so they had to be guarded. A vast caste of castrated slaves served as their captors. White slaves from eastern Europe, or “Slavs,” had their testicles removed but the customary practice for black slaves from Africa was to remove both their testicles and their penises. That way the captors and the captives could not engage in sexual relations with each other.
A major historical event occurred in Isabella’s childhood that made the Moorish invasion of 711 seem just a moment away in time. In 1453, when she was two years old, and about the time her father died, Constantinople fell to Muslim Turks. Its conquest had been foreseen for decades, but still, when it finally happened, it was as though the tectonic plates of the earth had shifted. For a thousand years this exotic city, far to the east, had been the great metropolis of Christendom. Hagia Sophia had been the largest cathedral in the world when Justinian completed its construction, and it was still the largest in the world more than nine hundred years later. Through all these years the city was a living relic of the classical world. The residents there still called themselves “Romans”; they regularly read the Greek classics, including Homer; they saw themselves as the continuation of the eastern half of the Roman Empire. For most of those thousand years, Constantinople had also been the military bastion of Europe. It guarded the crucial crossing of theBosporus and kept the nomadic armies of Asia out of Europe. The city had withstood a multiyear siege by Arab armies in 674–78, and a second, still more determined siege in 717–18, aided by its massive defensive walls and the technological wizardry of “Greek fire,” a substance like napalm, whose formula was a closely guarded secret.
But the city was fatally weakened when it was sacked in 1204, by its fellow Christians of the Fourth Crusade, as the result of a pay dispute. Thereafter it entered a long decline. Its territory shrank each year until it finally encompassed little more than the city itself. Pleas for aid from western Europe went unheeded by western Europeans who were too busy fighting each other to consider the plight of a distant city, and who were still angry at the great schism between Western and Eastern Christianity, which made them unsympathetic to the Orthodox Christians in Constantinople. When the Turkish sultan Mehmed II made his final move in 1453, Constantinople could marshal only 7,000 defenders, including 700 Genoese, to oppose an attacking force of 80,000. The city fell on May 29 after a seven-week siege. The fate of the last Byzantine emperor, Constantine XI, is not known for certain. Most accounts say that he personally waded into the fighting and was killed; his body was later identified only by the purple shoes he wore. Fighting alongside him as he went to his death was a nobleman from Spain who was one of the very few western Europeans who had come to help defend the city.
The final assault and destruction of Constantinople was a horrifying spectacle. Eyewitnesses such as the Genoese archbishop of Mytilene, Leonard of Chios, and Niccolò Barbaro of Venice describe the sack in violent terms, of mass slaughter, rape, and enslavement. Churches were burned down, precious relics discarded, and approximately 120,000 books and manuscripts, some from earliest antiquity, were lost, burned, or destroyed: “From only three days of plunder and careless destruction of books, which held little value for the foot soldiers who sacked the city, the Turks became known by Western scholars as one of the worst threats to high culture and learning Europe had ever faced.”50
Alarmed observers throughout western Europe thought that all civilization could be at risk. To Isabella, the fall of Constantinople was an omen of the possibility of many bad things that could come to pass. When her court chronicler Alonso de Palencia, a man she paid to tell her story, wrote his account of the times, Isabella’s birth was given about one page. But the account of the fall of Constantinople went on for three pages, with Palencia describing it as a “catastrophe” and a “disaster” that could mean “the extermination of Christianity.”51
In the following years, survivors wandered around Europe, dazed and bereft. Many had been personally devastated by the conquest of the city. The Muslims disposed of women and children in the same way they had in 711 in Spain. George Sphrantzes, a diplomat employed by the Byzantine emperor Constantine, wrote that his wife and children were taken after the fall of the city and ended up in the possession of the sultan’s mir ahor, master of the horse, “who amassed a great fortune by selling many other beautiful noble ladies.”52
Western Europeans, particularly those in Spain, were terrified about where the Muslims would strike next. Mehmed swore his horse would eat its oats from the great altar at St. Peter’s in Rome. And, Spain, of course, was considerably closer to Muslim population centers than Rome, just eight miles from North Africa. “Islam twice posed a universal military challenge to Christianity,” writes the historian John McManners. “First during the rapid conquests of the mid-seventh to mid-eighth centuries when, for a time, all Christendom seemed in danger of invasion and defeat. And second, in the fifteenth to seventeenth centuries, when the Ottomans made their bid for world supremacy.”53
It was at that second point in time that Princess Isabella was born. And though little is known of those earliest years of her life, neither her birthdate or her baptism, one item seemed notable enough that it was memorialized. It marked the first official action Isabella took, of her own accord, when she was a young girl. It was a donation of money—some 200 maravedis—to be used to help pay the costs of reconquering Granada, the remaining bastion of Muslim control on the Iberian peninsula.