June 1088
Given at the Keep of Monte Carlo, and sent to be kept by the monks of St Bernard in Schwyz, for the eldest son of King Sancho III of Navarra, if there is any that wears a crown.
So you are the eldest living son of Sancho, and you wear a crown. Thus you have a right to this story.
At the time when I left Hispania, Sancho had two sons. I have not kept in touch, so I don't know whether you are Luis or Sozzo, or some other brat I didn't get told about. And you probably don't know who I am or what I'm talking about.
Well, get this, kid. I'm
History. With a capital "H". The past, and the future.
I'm also history because I will be dead by the time you get these papers. But that, at this stage, is irrelevant. The important part is that I was there when this game started, and I have lived to find out what it all means. I think.
You probably remember me as an old crone who played cards and kept betting books. Well, I
was, too, in those years, and quite a lot of fun it was. When I left Hispania I set up a beautiful betting house in Monte Carlo, and I've been happier than ever. You may also have heard that in these last years I've been dabbling a bit in geomancy and kabbalah. Well, I say "a bit", but most priests would think that an understatement. The fact is that I have long worked in kabbalah, in the inner numbers and meaning of things, because of this story. I had to make sense of it. And I got very close.
You had not been born in 1037 when your great-grandfather fought, defeated and killed Bermudo of León, the last descendant of the old Kings of Hispania, blood of Don Pelayo, the heir of the long line of anointed Visigoth kings. That battle put the Jimenez princes on top of the Christian heap in Iberia, but it also put a curse on you.
Yes.
You. Because I'm not a Jimenez, except by marriage.
To cut a long story short, whatever you've heard the last true Visigoth ruler was not killed in battle, but badly wounded and taken to our camp. There, he was carried to my husband Sancho's tent. And there, also, was I.
When Sancho arrived, he laughed at his enemy, who was a slight, frail man and had indeed proved a poor warrior on the field. And the vanquished took it calmly until Sancho left again to attend to the army. Then, left with me, he spoke with a low, grating voice, some words that I still remember too well. Picture this interrupted by coughing fits, pants, and wheezings, if you want a truer image.
"Woman", he said, "the usurper king of Navarra has finished my race, which was established long ago in the German forests and should have lasted for ever in Hispania. So from now on their own race is marked, by my curse and by my right. They will gather lands and kingdoms with effort and bloodshed, only to see them scatter and break apart again. They will scheme and fight, and they will lose it all, and in losing it they will lose their lives... until none remain, and Navarra is no more."
"A good story to scare the peasants" I said, putting a brave face on my terror, for the dying man was giving me the frigging creeps. "I don't believe the future is written."
He laughed. "It is not written, and your children will have a chance, but it will happen. Some of them will either thrive or die in bed, but none both, that I warrant. Until there will be none left. Unless one of them manages to understand this curse... and to break it."
"Break it?", I asked, caught in the spell.
"Yes, woman. The future is not written, as you said. But if the children of your King, who would be king of Hispania, want to escape the curse, there can be only one. Either that, or the circle is closed and Christ returns. Nothing else can save them."
"One? One what?", I was beside the camp bed, but the man was unable to speak. He coughed blood, heaved in place a couple of times, and was still. "One what?", I repeated, pushing him, jabbing him, and in the end kicking futilely at the corpse.
For he was dead.
May he rot in Hell, by the way. I think he's not there yet, because I've tried to invoke him enough times in order to wring a better answer, to no effect. In Purgatory, souls can avoid the summons...
Anyhow. I told your father, who didn't believe me and couldn't understand it either.
I meditated on the words of the dying Visigoth King. I consulted the oldest and the wisest, I racked Europe for answers while all you saw was a network of bookies. I dug into the numbers and the meanings. I found a lot, but I'm still not completely sure.
"Only one", he said. One Jimenez left in the world? One of the royal blood? One kingdom in Hispania?
I still don't know for sure.
Along the years I contrived to convince the king my husband that his kingdom was better broken down among his sons: I would rather see the kingdom scattered than him killed by the curse. Some of his sons did likewise, and died old; some, like your own grandfather, didn't, and were killed in battle. Every time that happened, I shivered. The Jimenez race diminished and diminished.
Then came your father, who swore to leave his kingdom to a single son, and he became the only Jimenez King, and the only King in Hispania. Did he break the curse? I don't know, and now I never will.
If he died old and in peace, without breaking up his kingdom, you will be free. If he died in battle, or his kingdom splintered, you will know that the curse lasts, and that the race of Sancho is still marked. If so, you will either use these papers to find the key, or perish in the same way.
On the other hand, it may all be coincidence... and the Visigoth's "curse" just a very good trick to fool his enemies into destroying themselves. Judge yourself after you read the papers.
Now I must leave you. There is a very holy bishop waiting at my gates, with a hundred guards, some scores of peasants, torches, pitchforks... you know, the usual barbecue kit. Can't keep them forever waiting. I've tried, but I'm running out of croupiers, arrows, and boiling oil.
Receive your great-granny's blessing, boy. Whoever you are.
Dowager Queen Doña Muña of Castilla, lately known as the Witch of Monte Carlo.
[The rest of the package is a wad of vellum quite spoiled by fire and water.]