It was a capacious lap.
Wars were general enough, God knew! But not every year could one find a camp where the friar was as common as the archer or the pikeman, and the prelate as the plumed chieftain.
Santa Fe was court no less than camp, court almost as though it were Cordova.

This Queen and King at least did not live at ease in palaces while others fought their wars.

North, south, east and west, through the ten years, they had been the moving springs.

It was an able King and Queen, a politic King and a sincere and godly Queen, even a loving Queen.

If only--if only-- I had been a week and more in Santa Fe when King Boabdil surrendered Granada.