Leonor: Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour

Leonor: Queens of Portugal Trilogy – Catherine Mathis

October 20, 2026

February 1367, Alcobaça Abbey Church, Portugal. The opening lines of the novel

NOVEL EXCERPT #3 (of 3)

The women, wearing short-sleeved silk cottas over chemises and having abandoned their houppelandes and hoods on a bench at the door, gather in the Infanta Beatriz’s solar. To while away the long, hot afternoons, Beatriz engages a lay nun, the youngest daughter of the Azambuja family, to read a Portuguese translation of Guillaume de Lorris’s The Romance of the Rose. Her spirited readings come with innuendo and arched brows. Leonor assumes those around her also feel more heated than cooled. Chastity is a role that will gain her much, though she is not sure how much longer she can hold out. For two moons now, each day finds moments, some short and some lasting perhaps an hour, for time with Ferdinand, often alone. Drawn away by pleasant memories, she loses track of the story. Each day, the nun craftily finds a stopping point, bringing a chorus of ‘read another line or two’ from those gathered. As the reading ends and chatter breaks out, Leonor takes a break to relieve herself.

Returning, she overhears the women archly applying the allegory’s characters to her. “Well, we all know who Diversion is. But I cannot believe she will alter the royal course away from marriage with Castile’s princess this fall.”

To which Beatriz replies, “My brother likely seeks to pluck Diversion, for she is not eligible to play the Rose. A wedded woman. Such nonsense.”

Leonor fakes a sneeze, pauses, and then comes around the corner from the staircase.

With a knowing smirk, she says, “My lady, I am enjoying these readings. I hope we continue into the second portion of this manuscript, where the figures of False Appearance and Slander add amusement.”

Surprised looks give way to laughter, which she joins. She thinks, Little do they know. For the allegory’s figures fit her situation more closely than these women imagine. She has yet to share with her sisters the promises Ferdinand whispers when they dance, or when he finds a reason to drop into a seat next to her in the great hall, or during the times she meets him in the mews or at the kennels when others are shooed outside so they have some privacy. She declines to visit his rooms, for even if they did nothing, everyone would assume they did all. Though she is aware of the stares to which he seems oblivious, she remains determined to win her prize. As Rose from their daily readings’ triumphs, so too will she, ere summer ends and a royal bride arrive to displace her.

A maid proffers to Beatriz a message on a silver tray. “Ah, Leonor, this is addressed to you. Perhaps your husband misses you.” There are not so subtle chuckles. Poor timing indeed. Let them laugh at her now. Later, they will all bow to her. She smiles graciously as she rises from her seat.

Leonor takes the message from Beatriz, who gives her permission to leave. She pulls her houppelande on loosely as Joana rises to accompany her. Back in Maria’s apartment, Leonor breaks the seal and unrolls the message.

“Well?” Joana asks.

“It is from my Lord Pombeiro, likely at the behest of his mother,” Leonor mumbles as she scans the parchment. “He commands me to return home, for it is over a moon past Corpus Christi. I shall not go.”

“You must. Your husband commands you.”

Leonor waves a dismissive hand. “This is his second letter. He has not come to force me. I have other plans.”

“What plans? You have a son who must miss you terribly. You have duties to learn, and a husband who needs more sons. We’ll head back in two days,” Joana declares.

“No. But you are right, you will go.” And Joana shakes her head and leaves the room. Leonor sits to read the missive again. Her husband’s request is formal, without passion. He mentions their son requiring, not needing, missing, or wanting his mother. He says naught of what the boy is doing. Leonor finds herself curiously uninterested in the child. Even when she had stopped in the nursery to kiss him before leaving, he was more interested in how tall his tower of blocks was than in her. Pombeiro’s message sparks nothing more than a detached feeling in her. Required is not the same as missed or wanted. Is there something wrong with her? No. Lady Margarida had taken the child away from her not long after his birth. She was robbed of interest or curiosity. She believed the child was well cared for and loved without need of her.

Now that a special someone is making passionate statements followed by deep kisses of longing and wandering hands, she knows which man she aches to please. Pleasing this man comes with the grandest prize: power.

She wonders if Beatriz will step in between her and her brother. She sits hard on a bench. Her greatest problem is her marriage. Few know she bore a son, certainly not Ferdinand. She leaves to walk in the gardens despite the heat. For when she walks, she discovers pathways both literal and figurative. Nerves wrack her, for no word has come from Rome. Messengers have come and gone. Ferdinand tells her not to worry, but what if the pope refuses the request to annul her marriage? Will she be forced back to Pombeiro? If the messenger who comes on his behalf carries back court gossip, then Pombeiro will think she has slept with Ferdinand. If she is sent back, can Pombeiro reject her for supposed adultery?