The Wedding of the Salt Knight and the Noble Lady
It was late May, not the early July that marked the typical wheat harvest season in Valladolid. The arrival of new wheat during the hungriest, most grueling time of the year brought a glimmer of hope to the starving citizens of the city.
As the citizens ate bread made from the wheat provided by the brave and swift knight Don Quixote, they spoke of the newly emerged "Marquis of the Golden Horizon of Castile and the Meseta Plateau."
Some nobles cursed him as a base-born upstart who had risen too quickly, while others hailed him as a hero who provided survival during a time of catastrophe. But to the starving citizens, it didn't matter.
In particular, those nobles who had been forced to trade their family lands and assets for a handful of wheat and a donkey had either not returned to Valladolid, or remained hostile toward him upon their return.
Conversely, the poor hidalgos, who had been called the "Knights of Salt" and had ridden their horses endlessly throughout the time of disaster, praised the honorable hero of Valladolid—a comrade-in-arms who had faced the calamity alongside them.
On the first Sunday of June, during the morning service, the banns of marriage were posted at the Valladolid Cathedral, which was still conducting mass while undergoing flood restoration.
The announcement was repeated again and again. During the three weeks of Sunday masses, the news of the union between the commoner-born Marquis and the maiden of the Enrique family became the talk of the town, leaving the nobles of Valladolid deeply divided.
By the end of June, after Don Quixote had saved Valladolid, there wasn't a single citizen who didn't know about the wedding to be held the following day.
The ceremony was to be held not at the San Pablo Church—the most magnificent church in Valladolid, which had survived last year's flood unscathed—but at the Valladolid Cathedral, which had been left in shambles by the disaster. The cathedral staff struggled to make the place look as presentable as possible. With a constant influx of stone and precious timber, and contracted stonemasons working tirelessly, the cathedral was slowly regaining its majestic stature.
Morganatic Marriage.
"We have no choice but to recognize this marriage because it is the King's command, but that does not mean we are of a station to sit and toast with a commoner," the nobles grumbled.
Those in the know were already aware that while the Enrique family recognized the marriage, they treated it as something they "officially knew nothing about." However, this only served to enrage the native nobles of Valladolid, striking a chord with the rebellious spirit typical of the Castilians.
"The most noble, most loyal, heroic, and crowned Council of the City of Valladolid officially recognizes and supports the marriage of the noble hero of Valladolid, Don Juan Manuel de la Meseta, Knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece and Marquis of the Golden Horizon of Castile and the Meseta Plateau, and the most high-born Lady Doña Teresa Maria de los Angeles Enriquez de Cabrera, daughter of the Admiral and mistress of all fertile lands, and honorary citizen of Valladolid."
As the Mayor of Valladolid formally declared this in the council, all the councilors and nobles in attendance stood and applauded.
"Hear, hear!"
"The Valladolid Noble Association supports this marriage!"
"The Admiral's house, always looking to Madrid for approval, must wake up!"
"Wake up! Wake up!"
Amidst the thunderous cheers, the wedding was elevated to an event that symbolized the pride of Valladolid and a testament that they were not finished yet.
Due to the formal request of the Valladolid City Council and the fact that the groom, Juan Manuel, had a deep interest in the Benedictines, the Abbot of San Benito, who had been focusing on flood recovery, agreed to officiate the ceremony himself.
The San Benito Monastery was more than just a city church; it held the status of a headquarters overseeing all Benedictine monasteries throughout the Spanish Empire. Having the Abbot himself officiate was an event of great religious and political weight.
However, the prestigious Bishop of the Valladolid Cathedral also did not want to give up the opportunity to officiate the wedding of the Marquis, who had risen to become the city's power broker. The two clergymen finally reached an agreement: the Bishop would conduct the solemn blessing prayer to open the ceremony, and the Abbot would perform the actual marriage vows and exchange of rings.
"And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him."
"Amen."
The morning of the wedding dawned.
Teresa, the wild horse of Enrique, maintained her characteristic arrogance and dignity amidst the chaos she would experience for the first and likely last time in her life. But being human, she had been acting like a tethered horse, playing the part of a docile bride in the bridal waiting room for the three days since arriving at the cathedral.
"To think the young lady is getting married... *sob*."
"I never thought I'd live to see the day that Teresa gets married."
"The Admiral cherished her so much he didn't even send her to a convent, and this is the kind of place he's marrying her off to?"
— *Glare*
As the bride's eyes sharpened, the gossiping relatives took the hint and left the waiting room.
Officially, no nobles from the Enrique family were in attendance. However, the old servants of Enrique had been dressing the bride, and relatives who had visited in disguise had been coming to the bridal room over the past three days.
"It would be better if we used mercury."
At the words of an Enrique family maid who had been fixing her makeup and adjusting her clothes since the morning of the wedding, the woman opened her arrogant lips and spoke.
"I possess skin white enough without relying on such things as mercury. My husband has already acknowledged this."
Wait? Not the man who is to be my husband, but 'my husband'? The maid's head grew complicated for a moment, but she decided not to worry about it and focused back on the makeup. After applying red pigment made of cochineal to her lips and cheeks, the most beautiful bride in the world sat before them.
"Oh, how lovely. My lady, you are so beautiful when you just keep your mouth shut and stay still."
The maid spoke with the pride of an artist who had completed a masterpiece.
"That is incorrect. I am always beautiful."
"My lady! Your future husband might dislike it if you act like that!"
Another maid said, horrified by the lady's words. A morganatic marriage is a sad one. If the love that seemed eternal should fade, the bride would be left with nothing. She couldn't even return to her family.
"That will not happen. Juan is already mine."
At the lady's words, shaking her head and asserting ownership, the maids held each other's hands and gasped.
"Oh my, oh my!"
"She's done it! She's really done it!"
She wanted to throw away this cumbersome event and simply feel his warmth.
She wore a saya, a dress that connected the top and bottom and used a flat board to flatten the chest, over a farthingale that made the skirt spread out richly. The patterns embroidered in silver and black thread on a black background symbolized that she was the daughter of a great noble. Teresa, wearing a delicately woven black lace veil, the mantilla, spoke to the maids who had cared for her since she was young.
"I'll be back."
She paused after saying that.
"No. I'm going now."
Leaving behind the maids who were dabbing away their tears, she stepped forward with confidence. There, the Admiral was waiting, having changed his attire and wearing a wig to hide his identity.
"I thought you went home, brother?"
"I, the Admiral, do not wish to see my sister-in-law shed tears."
Teresa, the bride of the day, took the hand offered by her brother, Admiral Enrique.
As the wheat harvest became a reality, starting with Don Quixote, the ruined mills of the Pisuerga River and the bakeries of Valladolid began to be restored and operated. By the time I held my wedding at the end of June, it was not difficult to secure enough supplies to distribute bread to every citizen of Valladolid.
The clothes sent by the Admiral had been mended by a skilled woman. A top made of the finest black velvet. A stiff, solemn flat collar, different from the flamboyant lace collars of the era before Philip IV. I wore cavalry boots that came up to my knees under breeches that were full at the thighs. With a short cape draped over my shoulders, I looked more like a high-ranking officer than a new groom, provided I had the rank insignia.
And I wore the rapier gifted by the Valladolid City Council at my waist. Delicate patterns were embossed from the scabbard to the hilt.
"Whew. Alright. Shall we go?"
As I adjusted my attire and stepped out, Quixote, who had been waiting, said with an anxious expression.
"Would I be granted the honor of holding the Marquis's reins? I am but a commoner, after all."
"Quixote. If you don't want to, you can pass it to those kids over there who say they want to do it."
"Ah! No! My Lord! I will do it!"
Seeing Quixote's face, which showed he would never yield, I said,
"Let's go!"
I mounted my Andalusian white horse, Aventador, and began to move with resolve.
The "Knights of Salt" mounted on their horses followed behind me. Next, the men, led by those from the Tercio, formed a line and marched, completing a procession worthy of the new power broker of Valladolid.
The marriage vows began in front of the cathedral's main gate. In the presence of all the citizens of Valladolid, the Bishop of Valladolid, draped in a golden cappa, welcomed us by sprinkling holy water. Following the Bishop's solemn blessing, he asked,
"Do you take this woman to be your wife today and enter into the bond of marriage?"
"I do."
"Then enter."
The cathedral doors opened, and we walked toward the altar. The Bishop had the assistant priests beside the altar recite the Psalms, creating a solemn atmosphere with the choir.
The Abbot stood solemnly on the altar, wearing the black habit of the Benedictines. Beside him, the Bishop of Valladolid, having humbled his pride slightly, assisted while wearing a golden stole.
I entered with the Mayor of Valladolid, who also served as the King's deputy, and passed through the central aisle to the altar. Then, the bride entered, holding the hand of the head of her family, Admiral Enrique. Without the men of the family following, only the Admiral guided the bride. I was surprised to see the Admiral appear here, but I maintained my solemnity without showing it.
"Wasn't Enrique officially against this marriage?"
"I have no idea. How is it that the Admiral is here..."
The cathedral was filled to capacity with the influential figures and clergy of Valladolid, arranged according to their hierarchy. The Knights of Salt sat in the bride's section so that Enrique's absence would not be felt, making it clear that this marriage was blessed by everyone—or at least, by every citizen of Valladolid.
Unlike the sensibilities of the 21st century, our appearance standing before the cathedral altar in 17th-century Spain was a feast of black.
Under the watchful eyes of the Abbot before the cathedral altar, I took her right hand with my right hand. This symbolized that our marriage was an equal union under God's blessing.
After the Abbot's officiation, the Bishop stepped forward and sprinkled holy water, blessing our union.
According to tradition, while the prayers continued, a cord made of white cloth was placed over the shoulders of the groom and bride. This was the most important ritual, symbolizing that two souls had been bound as one.
In a Spanish wedding, the groom must give the bride 13 gold coins, the Arras, and promise the duty of support. I had prepared 13 gold coins, a handful of wheat grains, and a slice of quince.
After overlapping her two hands over mine, I slowly poured the gold coins into her palms. This was a secular contract that I would bestow everything upon her.
The clinking sound of the gold coins breaking the silence echoed through the cathedral ceiling. And when I added the wheat grains and the quince, the grains stuck to the sticky surface of the quince.
She received these coins and the quince and placed them back on the tray. This was her will to now fulfill her role as the mistress of the house.
Now, we had to sign the marriage document with witnesses from both families at a small table beside the altar. On my side, the Mayor of Valladolid signed, and on her side, the Admiral came forward and signed personally.
As the scratching of the quill confirmed our union legally, the Admiral whispered to me quietly,
"As the Admiral of Castile, I will wait for the day my brother-in-law becomes a man worthy of the Enrique name. Do not make me wait too long."
After the wedding, there were no grand theatrical performances or bullfights.
However, every citizen of Valladolid could receive bread in front of the church, and they celebrated the union of the city's savior and his mistress without a single complaint.
In 1627, in a Valladolid where the remnants of last year's disaster still lingered, the citizens were able to feel abundance for the first time.
***
Author's Note:
The actual Admiral family was a family that caused a scene and ruined a banquet during the reign of Philip II because their chair was lower than Philip II's chair. Isn't that just amazing?
And Philip II's reign was truly the golden age of Spain, the strongest in the world.