But today he had managed to meet his sister, and the two were very happy to be together again for an hour of quiet reading.
Alfonso picked up the book, "The Odyssey," but Isabella said, "No, not that one, Alfonso. Today let us hear this most interesting novel. It tells why the wind blows, why we smell and taste and hear, all in the form of a story."
She smiled and handed him the other book. Good-naturedly Alfonso put down "The Odyssey." Had he but known it, he put from him death!
Soon afterwards, the prince was again torn from his sister, this time to live through one of the most dramatic events in his stormy young life.
One day a splendid procession made its way into the town of Avila. Among the cavaliers rode Prince Alfonso. His horse richly decked, he sat stiffly upon the saddle, clothed in armor. His boyish face was grave and stern.
As he passed, the people cried out, "Long live King Alfonso!"
A throne had been erected out upon the plains. On this throne sat what appeared to be a king. He held a scepter, and the crown upon his head gleamed brightly in the sun.
But as the cavalcade drew closer, it was seen that the figure had fallen over on its side like a sawdust doll. And indeed, that is just what it was—a scarecrow, made to represent King Henry.
The Prince and his followers stood upon the platform. A colorful crowd had gathered about them—monks in brown, monks in white and black, lords in bright-hued mantles, Moors with turbans on their heads, peasants, beggars, young and old.
Bugles rang out, and drums rolled. The little Prince stood, proudly royal, in his armor. His blond hair showed under the visor which had been pushed back from his head.