By Leonardo Rodriguez Carrion
Remembering Spain
“There was another life. One where you excelled highly in what you were born to do.” The Monk in blue robes said to me.
“Let’s review then. Which one was it?” I asked the monk
“Present day, about 600 years ago, 15th century, in a land whose people would create a vast empire with far-reaching influences across the globe in the “New World” era of this world, your world.” The Monk said
“Well, where was it? For centuries, people around the globe have cross-mingled and influenced each other, at least.” I said
“In a not-so-unknown area, to you, where the moors had almost conquered it all. Iberia.” The Monk Said
“The Iberian Peninsula, where exactly?” I asked the Monk
“In the north, where the three kingdoms would then unite looking to create a new nation, one with ambition which would soon cascade a series of coordinated events by the people in power of Europe.” The Monk said
“The town, the family, the life, can I remember? I asked the Monk
“Of course, we have it all here.” The Monk points to a different section of the library
The Spanish Soldier
In 1,412, a young man was born soon to become a Spanish soldier. Unknown to him, his parents, he had the grace of having his brother grow up with him in the Spanish army at the time. Though loosely unified, the Spanish military aimed to conquer the moors to the south as each kingdom moved towards uniting the entire peninsula under one crown.
It was a long and arduous journey, but the Spanish triumphed, paving the way for a new era. A century later, they set sail for the New World, ready to conquer new territories and peoples. Yet, amidst these grand historical events, the young man’s memories were often filled with the harsh realities of warfare and the rigorous training that was part of his daily life.
From his youth to his late life, he lived a while as a soldier, even becoming a small army general. His brother had tried to beat him one day in one dual, one which he lost where he could have taken his life, but he spared the man. In his moments of solidarity and peace, he would read a bible he had, a rare feat at the time as most people did not know how to read.
In one of the last battles he led, having only led four after becoming a general, the man died from an arrow to his left as he fell from his horse and quickly passed onto the next world as he looked around the battlefield. One of his last memories was the painting a brilliant artist did of him. He painted the man in his new general outfit, showcasing the new general’s outfit fit for war—a short, war-filled life, but one important for the future.
