My mother was not just a queen. She was also a warrior, like my father. They rode side by side in times of war, and she fought with no less ferocity than he. They were beloved by their people and feared by their adversaries. They were beloved most of all by me, which was why it was such a blow when they sent me far away from Spain to marry an English prince I had never even met.

At first I was miserable. Not only did my husband and I not speak the same language but he clearly did not want to be in the same room with me, let alone in the same bed. Yet as we learned a little of each other’s language, we slowly learned to like each other. Just as we were learning to love each other, death took him and left me a new husband in his place, his younger brother.

I married him to maintain the alliance between Spain and England. I was still grieving my husband’s death and did not want to marry anyone else, but I knew my duty. And in truth, I was dazzled by my new husband, flattered by his devotion.