Dark red drapes were drawn tight against the blistering sun of Madrid, casting the royal chamber into a dim, oppressive gloom.
A half-circle of statesmen, generals, and whispering aristocrats gathered before King Alfonso XIII, who sat rigid on his high-backed chair, knuckles whitening as they gripped the gilded arms.
On a long table before them lay reports from Catalonia and the Basque provinces, places no longer content to merely grumble about Madrid's taxes and priests.
Anarchist pamphlets circulated openly in Barcelona's taverns. Radical speeches stirred Bilbao's crowded squares.
Even in the countryside, peasants gathered in sullen knots, clutching ancient rifles and talking of land reform.
Spain had always been a fractious kingdom, a patchwork of old grudges bound loosely by crown and church. But now, in the long shadow of Europe's shifting powers, it felt as though the stitches were tearing.
