Book I: Ramon Berenguer de Barcelona
Chapter I: the dream
It was a dream like Ramon Berenguer never had before in all his 43 years in this world. He had seen a large basilica, standing in a vilage, a magnificent sight. However a fierce storm blew down the church, and the church was left to crumble by the peoples of the village. After a time a man came in his dream, and the man started to rebuild the basilica: larger and more magnificent than it was before. Most striking of all, the man was dressed from head to toe in red and yellow, the colours of the House of Barcelona. This was the kind of dream that actually meant something. It was a sign from above. The Basilica represented Spain: once united under Christianity, later shattered by the Mohamedan invaders from the south and left to crumble by the Jimenez-family that ruled most of Christian Spain. Ramon Berenguer was sure about one think, the Lord had a special place for the House of Barcelona in his Divine Plan. He was sure of that.
Ramon Berenguer de Barcelona. A man well in his fourties and absolutely possessed with the idea of driving the Moors of the peninsula.[/CENTER]
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“One more time Bernat, you need to toughen up if you wish to assist in my dads wild plans.”
Pedro Berenguer, oldest son of the Duke, was sparring with his friend Bernat de Besalu. Something he usually did when he was fed up with his family. That being said, Pedro spend most of his time sparring. First of all, his father had abandoned his mother when he was seven to marry that French harpy of an Almodis. Afterwards his father had devoted most of his time with the twins Ramon Berenguer and Berenguer Ramon she gave him, claiming that it was a sign from above. Feh, for his father everything was a sign from above. All that free time meant that Pedro had plenty of time to spend on the ways of war. Even at the age of 21 he was the Alférez of the Duchy, as even his old man couldn’t deny his skills in the arts of war.
“One more time and I’m going to collapse even before facing the Moors Pedro.”
Bernat smiled while he said that. Bernat de Besalu was just 19, but stronger than most boys of his age. Sparring from a young age with Pedro did just that for him. Pedro wasn’t particulary strong, but he never left a hole in his guard, and yet he always managed to find one is his opponents guard. To compensate for his skill, Bernat had trained long and hard, yet even his impressive strenght was no match for Pedro’s skills.
“Still busy trying to hit Pedro, Bernat? You really should find a less violent way to spend your time. You are not the one who has to treat all those cuts and bruises.”
“Still looking out for me sis? There are better ways for you to spend your time too. You seem to be the only one able to bring a smile on glum Pedro here. Pedro still isn’t married and you are an adult too at 17. Why don’t you two… Auch…”
Pedro had hit him on the shoulder with the broad side of the sword.
“You talk too much Bernat.”
Bernat smiled, that was just like Pedro. The whole court knew that Pedro had a soft spot for Estefania. He guessed the Duke would announce their wedding any day now. Pedro and Estefania had been the courts favourite gossip until recently. Now it was the Duke’s dream of a war with the Moors. Bernat sighed, at least Pedro would get married before going to war. He just hoped glum Pedro would get along with kind and gentle Estefania.
Bernat decided to call it a day, Pedro had left to sulk anyway and Estefania was just waiting to lecture him on joking with the holy institute of marriage. Perhaps he would go to the stables to take a ride in the countryside.