The Noblewoman and the Captain
Doña Teresa María de los Ángeles Enríquez de Cabrera.
The very fact that the title Doña was attached to her name from the start was enough to signal that she was a high-born lady of noble blood. Teresa. In 17th-century Spain, it was a name favored by noblewomen due to the influence of Saint Teresa of Jesus—"Teresa of Ávila"—though it was common enough among the peasantry as well.
What truly expressed her "status" was her baptismal name, María de los Ángeles. It meant "Saint Mary of the Angels." Since Spain was the heart of the Catholic Counter-Reformation at the time, appending long titles of the Virgin Mary to one's baptismal name was the standard way to flaunt a family's piety and social standing.
Enríquez. It signified a family descended from the illegitimate bloodline of the royal house, one of the first of the twenty-five Grandee families, and a lineage that had inherited the title of Admiral of Castile for generations.
de Cabrera. This surname was tied to the county the family held, emphasizing their inheritance rights and legitimacy. It meant she was not merely a noble in name, but a member of the landed gentry who possessed both estates and private armies.
There were many reasons why a woman of such a noble house, at the age of twenty-five in 1626, was considered an old maid destined for the convent.
When she was born in 1601, her father had already been dead for a year. Thanks to this, she could not escape the "stain of suspicion," and when her brother, three years her senior, succeeded to the family title, her mother—who wielded authority as regent—raised her as if she existed, yet did not exist.
Of course, a woman of a great noble house could be considered important as a tool for political marriage, but the Enríquez family already had two daughters about ten years her senior. For a noblewoman to marry, she had to bring a dote—a dowry—befitting her status. Since the family had already married off two daughters to other great houses, she was positioned as little more than a spare part.
Thanks to this, she had lived a life somewhat freer than other noblewomen. Rather than being educated as a pious mistress of the house, she enjoyed horseback riding in the early dawn or late evening when the sun wasn't too harsh. Unlike her sisters who had married into other families early, she maintained a close relationship with her brother, Juan Alfonso.
In 1621, when the sixteen-year-old new King ascended the throne, she did attend a ball following the family's opinion that they should try to connect the twenty-year-old maiden—who still possessed the beauty of pure-blooded Castilian nobility and whose "shelf life" was barely holding out—to the royal court or another house. However, she failed to gain much popularity there.
Her snow-white skin, rosy cheeks, and deep, dark-green eyes were certainly the standard of beauty most preferred by the nobility. But unlike the slender figures sought after in women of this era, her curvaceous, glamorous body and the firm, toned thighs forged by horseback riding gave her the image of an impious, uncontrollable woman.
More than that, she was a free spirit, a woman who refused to be controlled. Eventually, after being treated as a "woman of loose morals" in high society, she had resigned herself to the fate of becoming a nun.
Still, she had nagged her brother Juan, delaying her entry into the convent by saying, "Just one more year, just one more year." Finally, in 1626, she was staying at a convent in Valladolid to receive the training to truly become a nun.
And on the night the disaster of Saint Polycarp descended, she had fled the convent wearing only a chemise to survive, only to be swept away by the torrent and lose consciousness.
"Ugh..."
She regained consciousness, feeling a pain as if her head were splitting.
"Ah! She's awake! Juana, go out and bring the Capitán here!"
"Okay! Got it!"
Three women, who appeared to be farmers' daughters dressed in wretched clothes, saw her wake up and made a fuss, telling someone to bring the "Capitán." One of them stepped out of the hut, and through the gap in the open door, the sun shone brightly. She looked at the two women closing the door and asked.
"Who are you?"
"Uh... My lady... We are..."
"We... we are the daughters of the farmers who work on the royal farm, my lady!"
A royal farm? Teresa felt her headache worsen at the unfamiliar words.
"I see. So, where is this?"
"Uh... um..."
"It's about a day and a half's walk from Valladolid! It's a royal farm, and also... also..."
Watching the dim-witted girl and the one who made such a fuss, Teresa let out a dry laugh.
"Very well. Thank you for answering me so honestly, children. Do you happen to know how I came to be here?"
At that, the dim-witted girl answered.
"Wow! So that's what you're curious about, my lady! Last night! The Capitán saved you! I saw it with my own eyes—him carrying you up from below that valley! Do you know? I even took off your wet clothes to dry them, wiped your body, and Marina massaged your arms, and Juana massaged your legs! But you couldn't breathe, so we called the Capitán! After the Capitán sent us all out and prayed, you came back to life! The Capitán is truly amazing! He's good at farming! He handles cows well! He rides horses well! He's handsome! His voice is nice! He's smart! It's clear he shared God's miracle with you, my lady!"
"Hey! Francisca, can't you be quiet!?"
The girl who made a fuss stopped the dim-witted girl from rambling, but Teresa couldn't help but doubt her own ears as she listened.
"Wait. What? Prayed? You wiped my body?"
Only then did Teresa realize the state of her own body. Beside the bonfire, she was covering her nakedness with a blanket that was little more than a rag. The linen clothes, which appeared to be the chemise she had been wearing when she was swept away by the torrent last night, were hanging on the wall.
"I... I am sorry, my lady. But if we hadn't done that, you would have frozen to death..."
The girl who made a fuss bowed her head, and then footsteps were heard outside.
"Capitán! The lady has woken up!"
The farmer's daughter who had run in like a whirlwind spoke to me. I had been looking down at the plateau, which still showed no signs of the water receding, praying earnestly that the water in the area where our village and granary were would drain quickly.
"Whew... Alright, I'll go."
"Yes, Capitán! Please come! Hurry!"
I pushed aside the problems I couldn't solve and went to the front of the hut where the woman I had picked up yesterday was being kept. I stood in front of the door and called out.
"Are you awake?"
There was no answer from inside.
"Didn't you say she was definitely awake earlier?"
"Uh, she was definitely awake..."
When I looked at the girl, she made a tearful face and said, "Just a moment!" before entering the hut. I turned my back in advance to prepare for any unforeseen incidents. If I messed up, I could end up receiving a duel challenge for sullying the "honor" of a noble's daughter and end up on a skewer.
-Tap
"She is awake!"
The sound of the hut door closing again followed, and the girl spoke to me. I turned back around and spoke toward the hut.
"Are you hurt anywhere? Would you like something to eat?"
Only then did an answer come.
"My body is unharmed. Though I may not have been invited here formally, if you bring even a humble soup from a farmhouse, I cannot refuse such sincerity. As a guest, I shall taste it."
A dignified and majestic manner of speaking. Just by the sound of it, she wasn't just any noble, but a daughter of a great noble house.
"Ugh."
The girl next to me expressed her feelings with a look of extreme annoyance.
"Go and scoop a bowl of wheat porridge into the best wooden bowl and bring it to her."
I chuckled at the girl's expression and said.
"Yes, Capitán!"
Teresa was bewildered as she watched the girl bring what was essentially just boiled raw wheat grains seasoned with salt, calling it soup.
"Children. Didn't you say this was a royal farm?"
"This is the hill next to the farm. The farm is flooded right now, so we can't go down."
At that answer, Teresa stirred the wheat porridge in the crude wooden bowl with a wooden spoon and said.
"Do you usually eat things like this?"
"Uh... well, we do..."
As the girl affirmed it, Teresa became suspicious. Was this really a royal farm? Seeing such a pathetic meal, everything seemed suspicious.
"Since last year... the drought was so severe, we had no choice."
"That's right. In the summer, we had to boil wolf beans with weeds. But since the sowing season, after the refugees left, we've at least been eating wheat porridge."
"Refugees? What do you mean?"
Then the girls told their story. It was an unbelievable tale: when refugees arrived due to the great drought last year, the Capitán had led them to the end, endured the famine, protected the farmland, and eventually, when the rain fell, he had ensured they could return to their hometowns with seeds in hand.
"If what you say is true, that man is truly a great person. He is a man who is foolishly amazing! He is truly a man who can be called a hero!"
"That's right. The Capitán is our hero!"
"My family was able to survive back then thanks to the Capitán! And, the Capitán officially gave my father and brother jobs on the farm because they worked well, what was it... anyway, he hired them!"
"'Hired,' you idiot! You stupid Juana!"
-Grrr-rumble
The girls, who had been laughing, suddenly blushed and felt embarrassed at the sound of their three stomachs growling. Teresa felt the girls' gazes drifting toward the wheat porridge she was holding and set the bowl down between them.
"You eat this porridge. I have no appetite."
Then, the girl named Juana, who had brought the porridge, said firmly.
"No. The Capitán told us to bring it for you to eat."
"Ah! Did the Capitán say that? Then we have to do as he says!"
"My lady, please eat quickly! We can go outside and eat."
The girls refused the bowl of porridge and waited only for the lady to eat.
"You truly trust that man called the Capitán."
Teresa said to the girls with a mysterious smile. The girls chimed in, talking among themselves.
"Of course! If we didn't trust a man like that, who else in this world could we trust!"
"That's right, that's right. I want to be the bride of a man like the Capitán~"
"You crazy girl!"
The girls laughed, looking at each other.
A bride. To Teresa, who had been preparing to give up and become a nun, was the thought of becoming someone's woman a luxury?
The crisis of last night. The adventure to survive. The will to live that struggled even within the torrent. Until then, Teresa had thought that becoming a nun according to her family's wishes wouldn't be so bad.
'My thoughts have changed.'
-Smirk
'I do not wish to die a virgin like this.'
How many times in her life had she laughed this sincerely? A sense of liberation that she couldn't even feel while horseback riding washed over her.
Watching the girls chatter and laugh, Teresa finished the wheat porridge in the wooden bowl and said.
"I wish to greet your Capitán, but even if it is old, discarded clothing, do you have anything I could wear in front of a man?"
At her words, the girls looked at each other and said.
"Well... we only have one set of clothes each..."
"Then it cannot be helped."
Teresa stood up lightly. The blanket that had covered her dignified and voluptuous naked body fell away, exposing her snow-white skin, so different from the sun-tanned farmers' daughters. As the girls let out small gasps and stole glances at the lady's body, she put on her dry linen chemise and draped the blanket over her shoulders like a coat.
"I am sorry, child. If he is truly such a man, I wish to make him my own."
She stroked the cheek of the girl who had said she wanted to be a bride and stood up.
"Ah... yes..." she answered quietly, and leaving the girl behind, Teresa stepped out of the hut.
***
Author's Note:Doña Teresa María de los Ángeles Enríquez de Cabrera—she is a character who does not exist in history. She is a character of my own creation, but I have tried to match the era and historical context as much as possible.
Considering that women of the time married at 20–23 for commoners and 14–16 for nobles, the fact that she, a posthumous child born in 1601, lived as an old maid until 1626 would have meant she was treated as a woman destined for the convent.