The Coronation

Once the boat hit shore in Toulouse, Beatriz and her party found a French entourage numbering in the fifties waiting for them. There was everyone from archers to musicians, and even among them she saw her husband, the Crown Prince. He stood out, tall and dark haired, with fierce green eyes. No one denied he was a handsome man, but no one spoke of his personality, either; he was cold-hearted and calculative. He showed no compassion.

The party began to disembark, awkwardly. At the sight of the infant, the party cheered loudly and wildly. "The Prince of France!" they were crying, ecstatically. Beatriz faltered, but resumed smiling and waving.

But when her husband approached her and dipped his head, she knew something was wrong. Then he spoke the words, "Your Grace." Her family was dead, and she was Queen of Aragon. So simple, two words and a gesture that told her; she heard her sister began to wail.

The land around them was rocky and green, beautiful but hard to traverse. Storm clouds were forming above, and a slight drizzle began. "Your Grace," her husband started again, "may I see my son?"

"My lord," she began hesitantly, "we have a fair daughter." His face dropped, and he nodded. "What is her name?" But now his voice was lifeless, he did not care either way.

"Beatrix Isabella. Beatrix for your mother, my lord, and Isabella for the purpose of giving her her own name." He bowed slightly again and turned, calling for horses and a carriage. He beckoned for Beatriz to enter, and she did. He left and did not return to her on the whole trip. Only when they arrived in Paris did he see fit to fetch her.

The whole thought of a coronation tortured Beatriz; it meant finally accepting her whole family was dead. But her father in law insisted that she be anointed, as a blow to the Spaniards. At first she thought of abdication, in favor of her sister, but then decided it was God that made her Queen, and she would remain in that station. It also gave her power in France.

"It gives you no power, only restrictions, Madame." Isabel was the only one she could trust to give her honesty in France. The rest were flatterers and poets and those seeking a higher position. "You're Queen of a country you cannot even visit; you're now pressured to provide an heir for two countries, instead of one. But if you abdicate, on the other hand, you put a burden on a girl of twelve years that has just lost all she's ever known."

Maria, or Marie as she was to be known in France, was not handling the transition well. She was ill constantly and frail, and already the King of France was trying to arrange a royal marriage for she and Beatrix Isabella. The King of Spain had insisted on Marie going to Spain to marry their Crown Prince, but Beatriz intervened and quickly ended that match.

"Then I am to rule a country I cannot even visit, and try to provide an heir even though my husband will not touch me." It wasn't that she minded that part, but it shamed her to know he had impregnated his mistress while she had taken leave. But, she had only given birth to a girl as well. It served him right.

"Than France will never get its heir."

The coronation went as planned, as the carriage took them from the castle to the cathedral where she would be crowned. The Spanish ambassador had argued that, since it had no taken place on Aragonese soil, it was invalid. He then went on to say that Alfonso of Castile had already crowned himself King of Spain, Aragon, and Navarre. He argued everything, including that if Maria wed the King of Spain, that the crowns would be lawfully united, and that the Aragonese would achieve more power than they had initially. Beatriz refused her hand in marriage to the Spaniards but did give the ambassador a position of importance at the coronation.

Now the procession turned to the cathedral and stopped. Beatriz exited in all her robes and could hear the cries of the people, "Désirent ardemment la Reine de phase Beatrix!" People seemed genuinely enthusiastic, and it delighted her.

Now she entered the cathedral and it became oddly quiet as the doors shut behind her. She marched down the aisle, as she had done in marriage three years ago. Now she was twenty, with a two year old Princess for a daughter, and entirely a woman. Her robes did not conceal the bump of her stomach, where another child grew.

She sat on her throne, and she was crowned; Beatriz, Queen of Aragon, Princess of France.