The Seven Noble Knights of Lara by Jessica Knauss
No one can safely ignore doña Lambra. Her need for revenge leaves the plains of tenth-century Spain stained red with the blood of her seven warrior nephews. That same blood rises up from the rich soil of Andalusia in the form of Mudarra. This knight of noble lineage can bring meaning to his life only by exacting revenge on doña Lambra and her pawn husband. In an age of superheroes and superpowers, this book returns to a simple hero, a mere mortal born with a special purpose. The setting is exotic, but the complicated web of rivalry and admiration between the cultures means that it fits seamlessly into our multi-ethnic, multi-denominational, and multi-problematic world.I hold a PhD in Medieval Spanish literature. This historical tale brings together the violent family culture of Mario Puzo and the rugged realities of medieval Spain of María Rosa Menocal. Gleaming silks spill out of treasure chests. Heavy, rough coins are traded for taken lives. Diners turn the goblet to avoid drinking from the same spot as their neighbor. Our young hero holds his hands out to catch falling almond blossoms as if they were snowflakes, then takes his glittering sword to the throats of his betrayers. Can Mudarra bring balance to the feuding families? Will he be satisfied with a simple revenge?
This novel is based on a medieval Spanish epic, thought to have been sung by minstrels, and which now only survives in history books. It has never completely faded from the popular imagination through the ages. Bringing together my knowledge of the era and of the craft of writing, I make it a compelling story for today's readers.
This pitch will be further edited to better reflect the humbleness with which I present this story to the English-reading public as well as the style in which it is actually written until I actually sell it.
Excerpt from Chapter 3. The scene takes place on the banks of the Arlanzón River in Burgos, Spain, in the year 974. A proud mother introduces her sons to her soon-to-be sister-in-law and her servants.
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“My sons are outside with my husband, waiting to meet you!” doña Sancha beamed. Justa, Gotina, and all the other servants followed Sancha and the count outside to find a concentration of masculinity so intense, Justa felt it wash over her like the waves of the Cantabrian Sea. Nine men, each with at least one sword tied to his belt, and seven with raven-black hair shining in the sunlight, laughed and talked amongst themselves, producing a resonant rumble in the women’s ears. Count García said playfully, “Hey, Gonzalico, come and meet your future relative, and bring those sons of yours. Ah, there they are! I would never have known, since they’re so quiet.”
Justa looked at doña Sancha and tried to imagine all those well-formed men coming out of her somehow.
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Excerpt from Chapter 4. The scene is at an outdoor banquet just days before the wedding of doña Lambra and Ruy Blásquez. The innkeeper offers the bride a choice of the cuts of a freshly roasted bull with her future husband looking on beside her.
She studied the mound of steaming meat, which was smothered in a parsley, fennel, and red carrot sauce made more red with beet juice that whetted her appetite at her very core. "I'll have the tail," she stated.
"Really, my lady?" the innkeeper asked as he used both carving knife and fingers to dig through the pile in search of the piece. Finding the tail, he said, "It doesn't have much meat on it."
"I don't mean that tail," she said. "I mean the other ones."
"Really, my lady?" the innkeeper asked as he used both carving knife and fingers to dig through the pile in search of the piece. Finding the tail, he said, "It doesn't have much meat on it."
"I don't mean that tail," she said. "I mean the other ones."
Excerpt from Chapter 4. The bride, doña Lambra, is sitting with her trusty servant, Justa, in their tent, waiting in dread for the ceremony to begin.
They both looked at the tent flap when they heard the women's song. Too soon, a line of twenty singing married women opened the flap and beckoned to Lambra. She felt infinitely small: so small that the women lifted her up on their shoulders and carried her toward the city as if she were a water jug. Lambra looked desperately below in search of Justa's braids. She walked solemnly, far behind all the married women. "Justa, don't leave me alone!"
Excerpt from Chapter 4. Doña Lambra is really nervous, and her perceptions of the ceremony are clouded by the sinking feeling she can't shake. They're standing in a magic circle in the middle of the cathedral square.
Doña Lambra saw the face of Count García smiling and shouting, and, blurrier, all seven of the the noble knights of Lara with their father, mother, and tutor. Someone threw a veil over Lambra's head, and then Ruy Blásquez stepped into the circle with a sure foot. The Count of Castile was addressing the crowd in a voice that had as much meaning for Lambra as the twittering of birds.
The first words she heard clearly came from Ruy Blásquez's mouth. "I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband."
Doña Lambra's chest was rising and falling so dramatically she could see it out of the corner of her eye, but she still couldn't feel the air passing inside her.
The first words she heard clearly came from Ruy Blásquez's mouth. "I receive you as mine, so that you become my wife and I your husband."
Doña Lambra's chest was rising and falling so dramatically she could see it out of the corner of her eye, but she still couldn't feel the air passing inside her.
Excerpt from Chapter 5. In the post-wedding celebrations, masculine egos have resulted in some wounded pride. Lambra's new nephew Gonzalo attacks her cousin, Álvar Sánchez, only to unleash chaos.
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Gonzalo drove his fist into Álvar’s face so hard that he collapsed at the feet of his horse, which reared noisily, bringing its sharp hooves down on its rider’s flesh again and again until Muño Salido seized the reins and led it, still kicking, away. Álvar’s teeth bounced and rolled on the soft earth or landed on people’s pointed shoes like fallen pebbles. Shining blood sprouted from under his body and raced outward, covering the ground with a steaming red plague. Doña Lambra let out a scream much louder than any of the lance blows had been on the scaffold. Justa dropped to her knees and took Álvar’s bloodied head in her hands. The little page stooped and touched Álvar’s limp hands and still chest. They looked up at doña Lambra and shook their heads.
Doña Sancha reached for her son’s arm and held on tightly. “Gonzalico, what have you done?” she whispered into his ear. He opened his mouth and shook his head in disbelief.
Doña Lambra began tearing at her fine silks, sending crisp ripping sounds through the thick air along with her grating sobs. Her whole body shook so violently that her hair flowed out of her headdress, which tumbled to the ground. She strode between the crush of people, wading through the blood and over the teeth, to face Gonzalo González. Through her tears, she exclaimed, “He was my cousin. He won the prize. Never before has a bride been so dishonored at her own wedding! Ruy Blásquez will repay this betrayal!”
Doña Sancha let go of Gonzalo’s arm to wipe at the tears coming down her own cheeks and plead with Lambra. “Oh, dear sister-in-law, he didn’t mean to do it.”
Ruy Blásquez took Lambra’s shaking hands in his and looked into her wild eyes. She wrenched her hands away from him and shouted, pointing at Gonzalo, “Do something! Are you my husband by these nuptials or not?”
Doña Sancha shouted, “Brother! He’s your nephew!”
While Gonzalo was looking at his mother, Ruy Blásquez struck him across the face with the sharp end of the lance. He fell onto his seat and blood streamed from a single streak that started on his cheek and went diagonally up the bridge of his nose to the opposite eyebrow. At the sight of her son’s blood, Sancha lunged toward the wound with a handkerchief grabbed unconsciously from Luz’s hands. But Gonzalo pushed her away, staining her sleeves with garish red smears. He got back to his feet, wobbling, refusing his brothers’ and mother’s help with great bravado.
“For God’s sake, Uncle,” he said blithely, “as your nephew, I never deserved such a blow from you.” He turned to his brothers. “I beg you not to sue my uncle over my death if I die here.” Swiveling once again, tottering precariously, he continued, “But, Uncle, for the sake of your love for me, I beg you not to hit me again, because you couldn’t suffer the consequences.”
Ruy Blásquez raised his lance once again, over doña Sancha’s protests, but this time Gonzalo was able to dodge the blow so that it hit his shoulder and did not cut him, but broke in two. Taking advantage of Ruy Blásquez's surprise, Gonzalo seized the goshawk from his brother Suero’s arm and, screaming with the bird at the slicing of its talons into his arm, forced it into his uncle’s face. The hawk struck out with its beak in indignation. Sancha cried, “Stop!” but before Suero intervened to coax the agitated hawk back onto his protected hand, Ruy Blásquez's nose had begun to bleed copiously.
At the sight of her husband’s blood, doña Lambra began to look around her. “Justa, what can I use for a weapon?” she said, but Ruy Blásquez, holding his nose with both hands, mustered the strength to call into the crowd.
“My warriors! Will you abide this affront to your lord? To arms! To arms!”
The onlookers made way as all the knights under Ruy Blásquez’s fealty came from their posts on the riverbank, pulling out their shields and unsheathing their swords. Gonzalo nearly swooned. He tipped and landed in the supportive arms of his brothers, but his arms reached around him in search of a weapon.
“Gonzalico, you’re half dead and there must be a hundred of them!” his oldest brother Diego tried to reason with him.
Crouching close to his ear, Fernando González, told his youngest brother, “Don’t you think it’s unpardonable to have caused such a scene at our uncle’s wedding?”
But even as he was unable to keep his own feet under him, Gonzalo shook his head and tried to wield a sword. Doña Sancha threw her hands up in despair. The clattering soldiers crushing in upon them, she looked to her husband. With a nod toward her, don Gonzalo Gustioz took his youngest son into his arms and kept him from falling, from grasping at weapons, or even from speaking.
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