How I Celebrated Alfonso X's 800th Birthday

Showing the king my birthday present for him 
All photos in this post 2021 Jessica Knauss 

I've been looking forward to Alfonso X's 800th birthday on November 23, 2021, for a very long time: since before I moved to Spain, before so many things, before I went to study cantigas in England (of all places). 

I was hoping to participate in lots of events for this grand occasion now that I live in Spain and could easily go to any one of Alfonso's favorite cities. Then the pandemic happened. I'd had Our Lady's Troubadour in the works for while, and thought since I can write a book under practically any circumstances, that it would be an apt tribute. 

And so Our Lady's Troubadour came into being, with a lot of help from friends and Encircle Publications. But meanwhile, the conditions of the pandemic relaxed, and some conferences and theatrical experiences celebrating the 800 years started to take place. Mostly, I heard about them and sighed wistfully because travel is still difficult or because I heard about them too late to do anything. 

Jesús Lozano plays Alfonso X in Alfonso X: La última cantiga, Sevilla, August 2021 

I was able to go to Sevilla for my own birthday and see the play La última cantiga, twice. It tells the story of the last years of Alfonso's reign and life and is punctuated by cantigas played by Cantica and Emilio Villalba (wonderful artists!). I know the history well, and to see it played out before my eyes was truly thrilling. Too few have been the times I've been to an event with cantigas played live. This is how they were meant to be enjoyed, in all their foot-tapping glory! 

But that was my birthday. Was I going to spend Alfonso's great anniversary stuck at home among piles of my own books? 

I didn't have to! I found out about Eduardo Paniagua doing a limited tour with the basic members of Música Antigua, ostensibly to promote their latest discs, about a month before the anniversary. With his group, Eduardo Paniagua has been recording all the Cantigas de Santa Maria, every last one of 427. They've been at it for about thirty years, and have some 380 done. The goal is on the horizon... 

The closest thing you can get to the instruments of Alfonso's court. 

The group uses instruments created from medieval miniatures and sculptures and a variety of voices and techniques. The approach they take, recording the entire text of each cantiga and developing the story with dialogue and interplay, has influenced my literary interpretation of the texts more than any single cantigas critic. Singing along with the recordings has helped me enter into the medieval mindset to write the stories in Our Lady's Troubadour, and given me a burning desire to perform cantigas in public (which I will do on December 10 if the worsening COVID figures don't stop me!). 

The city crest of Ciudad Real appears to feature Alfonso X! 

I've been listening to Música Antigua's work since 1998. So when I found out that they were going to do a concert on November 23, the exact birthday, in Ciudad Real, which Alfonso founded (and where I'd meant to go and see a Manolo García concert in 2008, but that's another story), I leapt at the opportunity! 

Ciudad Real isn't close to where I live. I reserved the Hotel Alfonso X, because how can you not, and tried to find out how to guarantee a seat when it was going to be first come, first served. I wrote to the cultural ministry, and at great personal cost, called, but never got to speak with the organizers. I had to just go and trust. 

Another element of this story is that I have a shiny new boyfriend (shiny as in "knight in shining armor"), whom you will probably hear more about. His name is Mario, and when he suddenly got the opportunity, he offered to go to Ciudad Real with me, doing the driving. We had a delightful road trip to Don Quijote country through snow and sunshine. It was sleeting when we go to the town of Milagros in the mountains north of Madrid, and Mario took this photo showing a book of miracles in a town called Miracles so I could hold the umbrella and keep the book from getting wet. What a great guy! 

We toured Ciudad Real. It has a strong current of Don Quijote going on, less so of Alfonso X. The mural in the above photo was done last week, just in time for the 800th birthday. But I couldn't be stopped. We saw the mural, a couple of statues, and a fountain, and it was enough to keep me happy. I was coming full circle, finally seeing a concert in Ciudad Real--not Manolo, but Alfonso, and I was comparably excited. 

The old casino building 

In the morning, we headed to the concert venue, which is the headquarters of the cultural ministry in the old casino building. We wanted to see if they would guarantee us seats because we had come so far and, after all, I'd just published a book for Alfonso X. We met with the organizers, and my social ineptitude took over. I let Mario do the talking, but when he couldn't make a very strong case for us based on how far we'd traveled, he started explaining that I'm an Alfonso X expert. I took up the challenge finally when he said, "But she can explain it better than I." 

I shakily removed Trovador de Santa Maria from the bag we'd been carrying around to protect it from the rain and explained that it had ten stories based on the plots of Cantigas de Santa Maria, and that I thought the City of Ciudad Real should have a copy. Everyone's demeanor changed. They said to come back when they opened the doors, and they would make sure we got in. (They didn't seem to feel the urgency I did about the limited number of seats.) 

Santiago, the oldest church in Ciudad Real,
might've seen Alfonso X cross its threshold. 

That done, we had a busy morning sightseeing, and all the while my mind was roiling with how the concert was going to go coupled with the excitement of hearing Cantigas live by the best musicians. 

In the afternoon, I read the introduction of Trovador de Santa Maria to Mario, both to share with him the importance of this occasion and to get used to speaking about these things I so love. He suggested we go to the Plaza Mayor and read the introduction out loud at the fountain with Alfonso X's statue so he could hear his present. I wept copiously at the suggestion, thinking about all the years I've studied Alfonso X and how I wish I could know whether he likes my gift to him. 

Front row, baby! 

We showed up at the casino early in our enthusiasm, and were told to come back later, not to worry, even if there were no seats available, they'd make room. Even with that hint, I still didn't imagine what ended up happening: we were personally escorted to the section labeled "protocol" in the front row! We were joined by members of the press and the organizers. 

Oh, the anticipation! The instruments were laid out as in the photo near the top of this post, and the air seemed to spark as, indeed, every last seat filled in behind us. 

And then, Wafir Sheik, Luis Antonio Muñoz, Eduardo Paniagua, and Jaime Muñoz walked out and took their seats to play instrumental versions of Cantigas 388 (295) and 1. The sound, without amplifiers of any kind, was as perfect as on the discs, but so much more alive. It was like lifting a veil and opening a passageway to a thirteenth century full of richness and beauty. 

I knew most of the cantigas in the concert well. They're like old friends, and I couldn't help tapping my feet and mouthing the words as I stared unabashedly at the wonders taking place in front of me. Mario was also overcome with the masterful playing of the marvelous instruments. The photos don't do it justice. Videos wouldn't have, either. 

Eduardo Paniagua talked with the audience between cantigas. He explained the miracles and their context, his perceptions of Alfonso's contribution to world culture, and how moved he was to be playing cantigas in Ciudad Real on November 23, 2021. I'd seen interviews with him before, and he always struck me as a very practical, no-nonsense kind of guy. But you can't be strictly practical and head a project of this magnitude for thirty years. Perhaps he's both down-to-earth and unbelievably passionate about this best of all medieval books, rather like I imagine Alfonso X himself. 

Afterward, they had discs for sale and the musicians stayed to chat with any audience member who wished to ask about the instruments or cantigas. I stood, my knees like jelly, my brain mush, and couldn't force myself to get in line to talk to Eduardo Paniagua just yet. Mario seized the opportunity to chat with Jaime Muñoz about the various flutes. While participating in that conversation, I also observed the others interacting with everyone and got the sensation that everyone in that large room loved cantigas and treated each other with kindness and respect because of that mutual understanding. 

Rather than calming me down, that rush of love wound me up more. When it was finally my turn to talk to Eduardo Paniagua, I could only start by buying the latest two discs, which are in fact two-disc sets. But then somehow I managed to say my fangirl speech about how I think the cantigas project is the best project in the world and how I've been listening for twenty years, and being able to listen to the music has influenced my writing. 

Luckily, Eduardo then asked me what I write. I accepted Trovador de Santa Maria from Mario, and showing it to Eduardo, I explained that it's a book I wrote for the 800th anniversary, and that the short stories are based on the plots of cantigas. And that I would be honored if he accepted this copy. He was incredibly gracious, insisting I sign it and gifting me a triple-disc set in return. (So I'm seven discs richer in cantigas than before I went to Ciudad Real!) 

Two Alfonso enthusiasts exchange works of art. 

Afterward, I went over to where Luis Antonio Muñoz, who did most of the singing, was showing the psaltery to a journalist, and told him (forgive my schmaltz), "Thank you for being the voice of Alfonso X." He was a very good sport about it and had a more-than-pleasant conversation with us. We were also able to congratulate Wafir Sheik on his excellent lute playing before we left. 

A journalist overheard Mario and me talking with Luis Antonio Muñoz and came to ask us why we'd come so far to see a free concert. By then, I was warmed up, not to say on fire, and launched right into Trovador de Santa Maria. Look at the last paragraph of this article. I feel so proud looking at that! The organizers said they'd be in touch about a possible book event, too. A triumph all around. 

I'm so grateful for these moments! I honestly don't know if I could've gone through with talking to everyone without Mario's encouragement. So I'm unspeakably grateful that he was able to come with me! 

In the end, Alfonso X's 800th birthday was better than I could've imagined. Happy birthday! 

See more Alfonsine photos here:

Happy 800th Birthday to the Wise King - Feliz 800º cumpleaños al Rey Sabio

On November 23, 1221, a boy was born who would become Alfonso X, King of Castile and León. 

Even his political enemies couldn’t tarnish his legacy of intellectual curiosity and cultural open-mindedness. 

I took the opportunity of Alfonso’s personal appearance in in Cantiga 321 to portray the empathetic and kind ruler I personally hope he was in Our Lady's Troubadour. (The excerpt is from "Clear Water." But more about that story in another post.) 

Happy eight-hundredth birthday to the Wise King! 

In honor of this extraordinary occasion, I'd like to share my translation of one of the most autobiographical Cantigas de Santa Maria. 

Every tenth cantiga is a song of praise. These usually don't have plots, but do have more daring poetic and musical forms. Cantiga 200 is special among these special cantigas because here, Alfonso X himself uses the form of praise to present an autobiographical sketch of sorts. It's general, but it's told from an emotional point of view, unlike other, more specific such stories. 

Cantiga 200

Refrain: I've praised, I praise, and I will keep praising St. Mary.

Because among all the most honored men alive today, she's shown me the most blessings, as I will recount.

She made me descend from good people and wanted me to fully rein and be king.

And with her mercies, she aided me in grave illnesses. Therefore, you must know that I will serve her. 

And to those who wished me ill and conspired and plotted against me, she gave them what they deserved, as I will prove. 

She pulled me out of great poverty and gave me riches, and so I will tell all her noble qualities that I can.

She who doesn't err and never erred made me the lord of a good land and helped me in every war when I called on her. 

She delivered me from misfortune, death, and injury. So, know, good people, that I will die for her. 

So everyone help me pray with good will for her to help me, since I have need.

And whenever she desires, that she will take me from the tumult of this world, and that I will see her whom I've always loved. 

***

I believe and hope Alfonso X achieved what he's asking for in this personal poem. 

Perhaps the greatest present we can give him on his birthday is the feat of remembering him 800 years later. 

This is the main goal of Our Lady's Troubadour. 

And, as Our Lady's Troubadour is available in both English and the Spanish Alfonso X did so much to create: 

El 23 de noviembre de 1221, nació un niño que se convertiría en Alfonso X, rey de Castilla y León.

Ni siquiera sus enemigos en la política han podido mancillar su legado de la curiosidad intelectual y mentalidad abierta, al final.

Aproveché la oportunidad de su aparición en la Cantiga 321 para retratar a un soberano empático y bondadoso, como yo personalmente espero que fuera. (La foto tiene un fragmento de "Agua clara". Escribiré más sobre ese relato en otro momento).

¡Feliz 800º cumpleaños al Rey Sabio!

Trovador de SantaMaría es mi humilde obsequio. 

Beautiful, Fun Music: The Cantigas de Santa Maria

A good troubadour in Cantiga 194, T codex. 
Cantiga 194 gives Our Lady's Troubadour its title. 
RB. Patrimonio Nacional.

With music, poems, and pictures, the Cantigas de Santa Maria are still a true multimedia experience. The music was the most enigmatic aspect for a long time, but since the code was unlocked in the early twentieth century, musicians have leapt at the chance to re-create the sounds of Alfonso X's court. 

A major reason Alfonso X is considered “the wise king” is because he placed himself at the center of the constant exchange of hybrid cultural currents of his era. He fostered an avid interest in the both the sciences and the arts and was obsessed with setting it all down in writing. This mania for compilation led to the Cantigas manuscripts becoming one of the largest songbooks of medieval Europe, with musical notation for more than 400 songs.

Alfonso holds up the musical prologue in the T
 manuscript of the Cantigas. RB. Patrimonio Nacional. 

I’ve studied the Cantigas de Santa Maria, mostly as literature, for more than twenty years, and I’m accustomed to English-speaking people having some strange preconceptions about this marvel of the Middle Ages. Now that I live in Spain, where the people ought to have these rhythms in their blood, I thought I might be able to skip the introductory lecture on what the Cantigas are really like.

I was wrong. My wonderful musician friends who are helping me put together some cantigas for my book launch in December made the same assumption non-Spaniards have made in the past. Since the stories tell the miracles of the Virgin Mary, they think the melodies are going to be droning, stultifying church music heavily influenced by the apparent shapelessness of Gregorian chant.

Cantiga 380 (E manuscript) with exotic hats and written music.
RB. Patrimonio Nacional. 

Now, I don’t consider Gregorian chant to be boring, but it’s true it never captured my imagination the way the Cantigas have, with their virtuosic earworms and lively rhythms. Although the Cantigas have a single line of text and music, this doesn’t reflect the influence of church music, which at the time was largely polyphonic. Here, monophony is a way to avoid obscuring the words and the meaning of the stories.

It’s important to remember that this music was written by the best troubadours at the most sophisticated moment of their age, and in some cases by the cosmopolitan king himself. It was meant to be heard at court, possibly accompanied by dance or even some type of drama. The story was all-important. The Cantigas’ music is more like the movies, singer-songwriters, folk music, and even marching bands of their time than like something a monk would sing.

This illustration for Cantiga 130 from the E manuscript
shows a multicultural environment. RB. Patrimonio Nacional.

Additionally, the Castilian court likely welcomed the influence of the Andalusians or Moors, who brought the latest innovations in instruments and theory to the Iberian Peninsula. Although no one has discovered a manuscript describing the style with which Alfonso wanted the Cantigas to be played, the melodies, the stories, and even the miniatures point clearly to Muslim musicians, who were, culturally, the posh kids of the time everyone wanted to imitate.

These seemingly opposite currents of northern troubadours and southern musicians, and ostensibly religious themes in a secular court setting, came together to create what I consider some of the most beautiful and just plain fun music in the world. 

I leave you with a version of Cantiga 166, which features in the introduction of Our Lady's Troubadour, because when I heard it for the first time, it changed my life. 

Our Lady's Troubadour lets you experience this rich world in a fun new way with ten exciting stories! 

Alfonso X's Greatest Work on His 800th Birthday

This illustration of Cantiga 235 in the F manuscript of the Cantigas
shows Alfonso X meeting a diplomatic retinue during his travels to meet with
the Pope in Beaucaire in 1275. The trip ended in disappointment, and 
much worse was soon to come... 

The historical figure of Alfonso X, el Sabio, has accompanied me through travels, trials, and tribulations for most of my life. As a human being, he was probably as complex and hard to live with as anyone, but I will always love what he stands for now: thirst for knowledge and the application of that knowledge to live better and improve the world. 

I've written about Alfonso X many times. Perhaps most important is his contribution to world culture. It gives some indication why I feel such tremendous respect for this king and scholar. 

Our Lady's Troubadour, which came out yesterday, celebrates Alfonso's 800th birthday on November 23, 2021, by adapting ten of the plots of the Cantigas de Santa Maria so modern readers can easily enjoy them and understand something of Alfonso X's world. 

The Cantigas de Santa Maria are one of the medieval compilations of miracles of the Virgin Mary. This collection is unique because: 

the miracles are told in the form of song; 

it’s a very large collection, with more than 400 of these songs, including every musical style in the Europe of their time; 

the manuscripts themselves are unique;  

the way the songs are organized has no equal; 

and most importantly, the Cantigas de Santa Maria are unique because of the personal involvement of the king. 

Alfonso X's court in the presentation miniature of the E manuscript. 
RB. Patrimonio Nacional. 

Here we see the king, Alfonso X himself, in the center of this illustration of his court from the first pages of the E codex. On the sides we have musicians tuning up, noblemen seated on pillows ready to listen, and tonsured monks ready to take dictation. Gold leaf, bright colors, happy feet jutting over the border, and blissful expressions complete a dynamic portrait of the royal workshop. The king's centrality in this picture is not casual: this is one of many ways Alfonso put his personal signature on the Cantigas. He wanted future generations to know that this wonderful book came about because of him. 

As we read the different miracles in the Cantigas, we witness all levels of daily life as well as extraordinary times. We spend time with people who have nothing to eat or are ill as well as with princes and an empress. 

For an introduction to how wonderful the Cantigas de Santa Maria are with examples, read here. 

For a more thorough but no less enthusiastic introduction to the Cantigas, read the introduction to Our Lady's Troubadour. 

For an even more thorough, documented, and scholarly approach to what the Cantigas are (where you'll still note unadulterated joy shining through), read the second chapter of Law and Order in Medieval Spain. 

I'll write more about the wide variety of topics to explore in the Cantigas in the weeks and months to come. It's going to be a fun ride! 

I'll end this strange introduction to an extraordinary king and his favorite book with my take on Cantiga 295. 

Cantigas 295 is one the happiest of the Cantigas de Santa Maria. In it, some nuns the king himself brought in to worship a certain image of St. Mary have a vision of St. Mary herself calling for the king. When he comes to lay prostrate before her, saying he would kiss her hands and feet in devotion, St. Mary says no, she wants to kiss his hands because of all the great things he does in her honor. A dream come true for Alfonso X! 

This is me singing unaccompanied, and yes, there are mistakes. But I hope you can hear the joy with which I share this music with you! Thanks for listening. 

I'm Not a Performing Artist

Tryna do it like I seen 'em do it over on the UToob

My big, amazing idea to break through with lots of sales of my latest book (which happens to be intensely important to me because it commemorates 800 years of my man, Alfonso X) was to do a series of videos, which would naturally go viral. 

Largely due to the sweeping cultural changes of 2020, I've become much more aware of the power of sites like YouTube. I have a unique voice and can talk on subjects that are interesting to at least a few people, so videos seemed like something I should do. 

I wanted a video introducing the Cantigas de Santa Maria, why they're awesome, and why I wrote a book using some of the stories from them at this moment in time. Then I would have at least one video for each of the stories in Our Lady's Troubadour explaining where the miracle came from, cool details about where it takes place and/or its illustrations in the manuscripts, and the melody of at least one verse and chorus, sung by yours truly. 

Ideally, these videos would've been released throughout 2021 and built up tons of excitement for Alfonso's 800th birthday, as much excitement as I already feel! 

But here we are in November, and not a single video has been made. 

Why is this? I'm not lazy, not a procrastinator. Ask anyone who knows me, who went to school with me, or worked with me: I never miss a deadline. 

Answer that may seem like an excuse: I'm a widow, and if I don't work (at my editing business) and meet my deadlines, nobody (me) eats. It feels counterproductive to pour time into my day job when what I want is for my writing career to take off. That's the suffering of artists in our time. 

Of course I manage to make some time to forward my writing career, so the question remains--not a single video?

Every time I sat down to put together the graphics and think about what I was going to say, I got overwhelmed, and then the slightest thing would distract me. Me, the Great Concentrator. I can concentrate long enough to edit a 200,000-word book that seems to have been written by a drunk fifth-grader (I don't think that about all my editing clients, not by far), but I can't spend a few hours to make a ten-minute video about one of the things I love most in the world? 

It's finally dawned on me that unlike the troubadours at the court of Alfonso X, I'm not a performing artist. 

Surprisingly to this lifelong wordsmith, making videos is not my forte. I bought a microphone and have loads of strategies for making the best of my strange lighting situation. And then the cat starts to meowl. Or the construction project two houses down makes a racket. And then I have to get ready to go to choir practice. 

I'm not great at conversation. Never have been. When it comes to speaking on camera, I'm only really comfortable when I know exactly what to say. I can't seem to sustain a coherent structure on the fly. But who can memorize a script these days? And reading on camera looks terrible. So I'm left with few choices. See the video below if you're curious about what I mean. 

I can barely keep it together for one minute. Plus my voice sounds weird. And perhaps that wasn't the best lighting solution, after all. This is as far as I got before my grand epiphany that the video project is too much at this moment in time, and I'll be happier if I switch to something else. 

What else?

Kind of obviously, my forte is the written word. Always has been. Whenever a professor "generously" "let" students do presentations instead of writing a final paper, I never took them up on the offer. A presentation, easier than a paper? What planet are they on? Not the same one I am. 

That goes in the other direction, too. I'm much likelier to enjoy, understand, and retain something if I've read it as opposed to hearing it. 

So I'm going to do the same series as blog posts. They'll be fun for me to write, and informative and hopefully joyful for you to read. They'll include video snippets and lots of pretty pictures. 

I realize blogs are antique in 2021, and that videos are the wave of the present, and hopefully the future, because I wouldn't honestly look forward to that marvel my brother and I mentioned many times, smellavision. 

But after all, Our Lady's Troubadour is historical fiction, so I'm going to support its release with this historical medium. If you want to read historical fiction, maybe you want to read blog posts, too...?

If I had a lot more free time to tweak the technology and write and remember scripts, a video project might seem doable again. So if you see more videos from me, they're either quite short and manageable, or my life circumstances have changed for the better!