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: