Inês
de Castro was a Spanish Lady-in-Waiting with noble, albeit illegitimate
descent, though she was legitimately descended from Infanta Sancha Henriques of
Portugal, the daughter of Henry, Count of Portugal.
Inês
arrived to the Portuguese court as the Lady in Waiting of Constance of
Castile, the new bride of Pedro I, heir to the Portuguese throne. As fate would happen, the moment Pedro and Inês met, they fell madly in
love. During the first years of Pedro I’s marriage to Constance, he carried on
a secret liaison with Inês. As happens in royal courts, the
king, Pedro's father, King Alfonse IV, discovered his
son’s liaison and had
Inês banished.
Five
years later, Constance died in childbirth. Pedro I rushed to his beloved Inês, and together they had four children. Infuriated by the prospect of illegitimate
heirs having claim to
the throne, King Alfonse IV ordered the assassination of Inês.
Devastated, Pedro I returned
to court.
Grieved
over the loss of his beloved Inês, the now King Pedro I hunted down his
father’s guards, Igên’s assassins, traded prisoners for them to be extricated
back to Portugal, held a trial, denounced them guilty, and pulled out their
hearts before his court, stating “Now you will know what it feels like to have
your heart ripped out of your chest.”
Thereafter he was known as Pedro “the Cruel,” though he is sometimes referred
to as Pedro “the Just.”
Pedro’s
grief grew. In tribute to Inês, he had her body exhumed, dressed in a crown,
jewels, and robles, and placed next to him on the golden throne of
Portugal. Pedro I ordered both clergy and courtiers to approach the throne and
kiss her hand.
Pedro I,
the Castilian king, reigned for a decade from 1357-1367. Pedro had two tombs
constructed for him and his beloved Inês. Their tombs lie facing each other so
that in the very moment of the Great Awakening they will see each other
first. They are buried in the royal monastery of Alcobaça, with the words “Até
o fim do mundo…”
(“Until the end of the world…”)
Até o fim do mundo...
by Soph Laugh
An Ode to Igês and Pedro
inspired by heart-breaking to the limits of delirium writings
of Count Giacomo Leopardi, Italy's greatest lyric poet since Pedrarch, Lucretian in his vision.
At times
thy image to my mind returns,
Inês. The
white heat of my anguish
Burns
away, penetrating the air.
Beside me,
my beloved Queen,
An earthly
mutation, a silent star,
With
sudden and startling vividness,
As if
awakened from her sweet harmony,
The
splendid vision rises in my soul.
How
worshipped now, what a delight
To me,
what torture, too! Nor do I e’er
Inhale the
odor of flowery fields,
Or perfume
of gardens mask,
That I
recall thee not, freely exiled, so redolent.
Arrayed in
robe and crown, thy form
Angelic I
behold, as it resolutely reclines
On dainty
cushions languidly, and by
An
atmosphere curiously surrounded;
Unsuspecting
innocents, tempting bosom press,
Then by my
side, nevermore unprotected,
Driven
deep by divine penetration, lamenting sore;
Not to be
disturbed, till the Last Judgment,
When we
shall be one another’s first sight
As we rise
unto the kingdom of His glory,
Into
everlasting grace, eternal dwelling place
Of the
faithful, judged in the mansions of the righteous.
A Lady
divine, though not in line, but to my thought
Thy beauty
shone. A like effect upon your heart
My
presence caused, and harmony, that seem our birthright,
A mystery
caused, and thus revealed.
The
stricken separated, then five annual round had made,
A wife was put to laid, stricken with mortal fondly worship,
Mine own
ordeal propelled my ideal, the creature in my mind,
Which is
of heaven descent, in looks, in manners, and in speech.
The real
and the ideal, the effect in fond caress, passion-driven
Soul.
Woman, a dream, adored. Four heirs, marriage vows, are made.
By nature
inferior to the king’s lineage stained.
At last
his error finding, and the sad exchange,
Enraged,
and most unjustly, oft,
The woman
struck. Such conception ill comprehended.
The man,
deceived, returns. Vainly waits the passing of Afonsoian line.
The crown
to the last singular house illegitimately begun.
The real
and the ideal, but a dream. In the generosity her beauty
Oft
inspired. Produce on him that listens. Dead is Anés, phantom
Ever dear,
that comes from time to time, and disappears.
Thou
livest still, not only in beauty,
But in thy
beauty still surpassing all;
Flame
extinguished, rekindled.
Her, alone,
I adored; and was so pleased
With her
celestial beauty, known to nature full well,
Thy young
artful and coquettish ways,
Mere
attributes of the sweet pleasures life gave,
A likeness
that allured me so, even to thy
Long and
heavy slumber to publicly bear.
Now, lie,
we separate in Alcobaça, but together, still
Rise, eyes
fixated instantly upon unconquered hearts,
With head
bowed with suppliant look, say that thou wast the first –
And surely
the last – that in my eye, and before me,
Rise thee
timid and trembling, together, our only wish,
Submissively
observing sacred servitude,
Judgment
free to resume, bereft of starless nights,
And
winter’s midst, summer’s revenge, the blossoms of spring.
Outstretched
in indolence we lie, and gaze upon the day
Until the
end of the world.