950 Years Later, the Siege of Zamora

This mural by beloved Zamoran artist Antonio Pedrero
graphically represents the Siege of Zamora
at the Puerta de la Feria (not far from my house).

This year marks the 950th anniversary of Zamora's most famous moment in history, the Siege of Zamora. If you've seen the El Cid film, this story occupies the first part. That is by far not the only medium this epic story has found it way into, with plays, songs, poems, and visual art existing almost since the time of its occurrence in 1072. 

This weekend (the hottest on record), the city government sponsored the revival of a play by Agustin Garcia Calvo, just one of many events marking this anniversary. The production by contra-tiempo-teatro and many collaborators was brought to life with modern spectacle and a heavy dose of charm. I thought using photos from the event would be a great way to tell this story on my humble blog. 

The sun sets behind the castle, a very evocative setting for the story of the siege of Zamora. 

It was necessary to reserve tickets days in advance. These cultural events are very popular in Zamora. 

The actors and musicians arrive on the scene. The play was very medieval in that most of it was narrated by a pair of singers and a vihuela, a medieval stringed instrument. Both the sung lyrics and spoken parts were in medieval epic meters with rhyme. 

I often wonder why Spanish historical fiction feels no need to update the mode of delivery of the content. If I were writing a play about the Siege of Zamora, I would never think to use narrators, but would reveal all the complex story through action and dialogue with psychological development. But that's my Anglophone historical fiction perspective. This way of doing things pleases the audience because it's "more medieval," and that's what counts. 

The action begins with King Fernando I on his death bed, dividing up his kingdoms. To Sancho goes Castile, Alfonso receives Leon, and to Garcia goes Galicia. 

Fernando I's daughter Urraca arrives on the scene to say more or less, "What am I, chopped liver?" Of course she isn't. The king grants her the noble and strategic city of Zamora to govern. She becomes our "Queen." We love her even today. 

Fernando I is dead. Urraca is offered the throne in Zamora, but she says, "Why sit down? Sancho's just going to push me off again!" Indeed, Sancho, not satisfied with the biggest piece of the pie, Castile, wants his siblings' pieces, too. He's taken control of Galicia and Leon and imprisoned his brother, Alfonso. 

Sancho's forces set up tents in order to lay siege to Zamora. It was very cool to watch the actors actually put up the tents. 

Sancho asks his knight El Cid (yes, that one!) to ask Urraca to hand over Zamora so they don't have to start the siege. El Cid and Urraca know each other pretty well. If anyone can convince her, he can. 

El Cid arrives on his valiant steed (a terribly cute and expressive stuffed animal). In no version of this legend does Urraca ever simply hand over Zamora. Come on! 

In this version, she says, more or less, "You had your chance to marry me, and you didn't take it. You're not the boss of me, and I'll never surrender Zamora!"

El Cid tells Sancho's other knights, "I knew that wouldn't work. Let's start the siege." Zamora lasts for eight or nine months without budging. 

Vellido Dolfos, formerly a knight of King Alfonso, confers with Urraca without ever implicating her in his plans in this version. He then insinuates himself into Sancho's camp under false pretenses of bringing solid intelligence about where to attack Zamora's impenetrable walls. 

In short order, he assassinates King Sancho, bringing a quick end to the siege and the fratricidal war. Alfonso is now the only brother left. 

Another of Sancho's best knights, significantly more hotheaded than El Cid, accuses Zamora (in the person of Arias Gonzalo) of Sancho's death. And I mean he accuses all of Zamora, enumerating the women, children, dogs, and chickens as conspirators. 

Arias Gonzalo explains calmly that he cannot bring a formal complaint against every last living thing in Zamora. 

Consulting with Urraca, Arias Gonzalo sets up a trial by combat. If Sancho's knight beats each of five Zamoran knights in single combat, then his accusation is true, and Zamora must pay further. If Sancho's knight falls, however, his accusation is false. The five Zamoran knights are Arias Gonzalo's four sons and himself. 

These were some really cool action sequences I couldn't capture very well. 

Sancho's knight beats the first two sons of Arias Gonzalo. But then son number three defeats Sancho's knight by hook or by crook. The arbiters of the process, the Knights of Santiago, decide that this outcome leaves the trial inconclusive. So much like real life. 

The funeral procession for King Sancho is projected on the castle wall. 

The actors take their bows to thunderous applause. 

The last lines in the play are spoken by El Cid on his way to meet King Alfonso as he rides away from Zamora. He says some lovely things about how strong it is and wishes the city well, knowing that it will endure for many, many centuries. At first I thought the audience was clapping for what he said because they love Zamora, too. But no, the play was over at that point. The story stopped at a place ripe for more epic action, as we see in the El Cid film. But, since it was titled The Siege of Zamora, it delivered on its promise, and nothing more. 

This story certainly needs a good historical novel in the Anglophone tradition. I'm trying to start something else right now, so consider the gauntlet thrown. Alternatively, if one exists and I just haven't read it, feel free to let me know about it!