June 1093-October 1094. Long live Queen Garcenda
Hello again, and welcome. Yes, it's a rather happy day here. As Cristina would say, you can tell that Garcenda is gone.
Don't get me wrong, she's gone to a better place and we're all very happy for her. The added peace in the Palace is just a welcome extra.
Sort of. And if you buy that, I have a stone bridge out there that you can have real cheap too.
It's been a festive time, indeed, ever since June last year. You may remember back then our only serious trouble was money, or the lack of it. Yes, there was all that about finishing Dad's work, getting revenge on the King of Egypt, and the mystery of the family curse, but it could wait. Ever since I got back the use of my leg, I had been looking forward to really enjoying one San Fermín as it should be done: running the bulls.
Nowadays it's quite an institution. Dad started the policy of getting new vassals to send a yearly complement of youths to run before the bulls, and after a while everyone started sending their own, so it became a real national festival with people from all over Navarra, even from Outremer. And over the years they've actually learned to avoid being run over. Most survive. The locals have taken to running too and celebrating the runners, so all in all what started as the commemoration of a battle is now just plain great patriotic fun.
Indeed people come from over the frontiers... and some stay. Nada, the Countess of Ragusa, enjoyed her visit so much that she wanted her own place for the next year.
And those that stay, enjoy themselves. Many great friendships start in the Sanfermines. And more than one pregnancy, I hear.
All in all, the climate of order and the lack of money was good for most, but stifled some of the most creative professionals.
In October, Cristina and I had another daughter. Inspired by our friend Nada ("Nothing" in Spanish) we called her Toda ("All of it" in Spanish). You can see that Cristina was feeling good enough to joke.
Unlike the thieves, most of our vassals were enthusiastic about the good times. They took to calling me "Luis the Just" instead of "Luis the Indebted" as has been usual this last couple of years.
The feeling was common among the "greenhorns" (muslim vassals) and the "whitewashed" (converted or old Catholic provinces).
Truth to tell, I was having a bit too much of order and peace, but the economy was the economy and you can't raise the legions, or field the regiments, without cash.
The only permanent source of "disorder" in court was Garcenda, and generally Cristina and I could keep her in check. With the help of the Guardian of the North Tower, occasionally. We love her, but she was more often locked in that roaming out. She has only herself to blame: you really don't want to know what she did for her sixteenth birthday. The sixteen guards who were fooled to strip naked for medical revision and then pushed onto a dancing stage during the party would have liked to remain ignorant, too. And I'm definitely not telling you how she doctored some of the seats preferred by the old ladies and nuns, or the effects it had.
So, all in all, nobody was surprised when Cristina decreed that, since she was now of age, she should be married off. To someone we either hated or believed to be hard enough for her.
The only pity is that she's my sister, not my eldest daughter, so I get no dowry. We need the money. Even though it's flowing in very healthily, we still haven't recovered the costs of the last war. The lenders were getting testy, too, and one of the less patient, a stiff character from the city of London, all dressed in gray, went and reposessed a tile-factory in Córdoba in November.
I took care to invite him to next year's San Fermín, the usual spot on the Moneylenders' Row inaugurated by his predecessor Isaac of York in my father's time (it's famous now, thankfully only among the locals).
And that got me talking with my ally, the old but still quite pushy William the Conqueror of England. He had come to negotiate some trading agreements and talk Crusades. And he's fun.
He has all those stories about how the people keep defaming him, calling him a "land-thief" and an invader, when in fact he was the heir designate of the last legal Saxon king, who lacked a son and favoured him as a moderniser for the kingdom. He only got rough after the Saxons decided to elect a different successor and fielded an army.
"When the going gets tough, the tough get going", he said by way of explanation over his tea. "When the going gets rough, the tough get rough".
"And when the tough get enough?", said Cris.
"That's the problem! My Norman toughs can't be sated with all the Saxon land in England...", he answered, laughing.
"Just as long as you don't look at my island, that's just too bad on the Saxons".
And then - what do you know - Garcenda came into the room to ask for her missing chain saw or something, and William saw her, and they began teasing each other, and laughing at each other's jokes, something about the weapons of conquest... Cris and I looked at each other, and the rest is History.
Let's hope those manage to make some more history and our two kingdoms become real friends. Navarran tradition in the matter of allies is... problematic.
The winter arrived, and the kingdom coffers kept crawling out of the red, and the scars of past wars cleared... and Cristina convinced me to send Amat to designing our soon-to-come war academy, instead hiring a pal of her called Llywarch as Marshall. Llywarch has a very modern and progressive haircut and (fact is fact) Amat was a bit long in the tooth, even if that only gave him another weapon in close combat.
Amat took it well. Sort of. I mean, after the hissy fit about "crawling babes thinking they can do the work of men".
She also maneouvered things to get rid of Raimundo's lover. Ordinarily she doesn't get into those things, but he's married to a royal cousin. That will clear the atmosphere of the Palace almost as much as the departure of Garcenda.
Late in January, we received a visitor from the other side of the Adriatic. Apparently Bernardin, Duke of Bosnia (all of two provinces), is a close pal of Nada, whom I told you about a while ago. She had convinced him of the advantages of being a vassal to a large, well-run kingdom with a very scenic bull-running festival.
I'm afraid he also mentioned something about "lasting peace and security". I hope he doesn't get to hear about my ex-vassals of Irbid and Amman (who
will be avenged), or about the improving state of my finances and regiments. Because they
are improving...
And to cap the month, my son and heir, Juan, became a friend of the new Marshall. I see the hand of his mother in that, too, but hey, what can go wrong?
Amat, meanwhile, surprised us all and finished the project and the War Academy in a matter of months... in Livorno. I thought I said clearly said "Córdoba". But then, maybe he didn't hear. Or he didn't want to be to close to old Ingeborg's works.
In February, we had another applicant to become a vassal of mighty Navarra. This one was central European, and either quite sporting or out of touch with the news. For in February 1094 the mighty Navarra's treasury returned to black. Oh yes.
That was the last bit of relevant news until October 1094. Which has been an uneventful month, except for the very warm satisfaction of seeing my Juan and Sozzo become friends. Let me tell you, that's something that a father likes to see. Especially with the heritage situation in Navarra.
So, since your last visit we've only added four provinces to the map on the mantelpiece. They're the darkest green; the previous ones are already fading pale. But let me tell you, we have enjoyed these months. And built up the strength of the kingdom no end.
In other words, next time we meet you can expect
news. Lots of them.