The silhouette of the mountain known as the Dead Woman cuts a striking figure against the sky, the result of a geological whim that has been interpreted through the prism of popular folklore and legend.

One legend says that the mountain was formed when a maiden died whilst waiting for a knight who never returned from war.

Another arose following a mother’s sacrifice to stop a fight between her sons.

According to a third legend, a storm shaped the mountains in the image and likeness of a lady who died trying to stop the duel between two men fighting over their beloved.

According to legend, it was laziness, not Rome, that gave birth to the Aqueduct. A young water-carrier, tired of dragging her jug up the city’s steep streets, made a pact with the devil: he could claim her soul if, before the cock crowed, the water reached her front door. Aware of her guilt, the young woman prayed fervently to save her soul. Meanwhile, a storm raged and the little devil worked tirelessly. Just as the cock crowed, the Devil let out a terrifying scream: he had lost the girl’s soul because of a single stone that had not been laid.

She confessed her guilt to the people of Segovia, who, after cleansing the arches with holy water to remove the trace of sulphur, joyfully accepted the city’s new skyline. It is said that the visible holes in the stones are the imprints of the devil’s hooves. Today, the city pays tribute to this beautiful legend with the sculpture of the little devil of Segovia, the ‘true’ architect of the Aqueduct. This work, created by José Antonio Abella, depicts the defeated devil holding the last stone of the Aqueduct that he had yet to place, posing for a selfie with his unfinished work. The sculpture is located on Calle San Juan, from where you can enjoy one of the best views of the two-thousand-year-old Aqueduct.

According to legend, during the wake of a knight of the order, the warrior’s body was left unattended due to an oversight by his companions. Without anyone noticing, he was attacked by rooks, which devoured his corpse. Enraged, the prior cursed these birds, forbidding them from approaching or entering the church. Since then, no rooks have been seen in the Church of La Vera Cruz.

On the central balcony of the Hall of the Kings in the Alcázar of Segovia stands a cross that commemorates an event about which two versions have circulated over the centuries. The more legendary version tells that the Infante Don Pedro of Castile, son of Henry II ‘the Merciful’, was on the balcony in the arms of his nanny when he slipped and fell into the void. In a panic, the nanny threw herself after him.

On the other hand, the historical version maintains that the Infante, aged just 12, fell whilst playing ball with his friends.

Housed in the former Convent of San Francisco, this institution has not been immune to rumours about its unusual “ghostly” inhabitants. According to legend, the figure of a friar “clad in a habit and wearing a hood” can sometimes be seen wandering the corridors, particularly near a wall in the cloister. Several witnesses, including some senior military officers, have claimed to have seen him; they all agree in describing him as a “dark and swift” figure, who seems to levitate above the ground, enveloped in a strong, cold wind.

The story goes that this ghost is that of a young friar who lived within these walls during the Middle Ages. On one occasion, he left the monastery without permission and, whilst attempting to return, was discovered by an older friar. The confrontation resulted in the elder’s death. As punishment, the young friar was walled up alive in one of the cloister walls to serve as an example to his community. Years later, during renovation work in the cloister, it is said that human remains were found, although this has never been confirmed.

Today, those who recount this event claim that the friar continues to search for a way out in the cloister of the former Convent of San Francisco.

Friar Rodrigo de Cerrato was a Dominican friar known today as a chronicler and hagiographer for his work, in which he compiled various biographies of saints, recorded a number of miraculous events and commented on various moments in the liturgical year. Among the Marian themes addressed by the Dominican was the miracle of the Jewish woman who was saved in Segovia thanks to the intervention of the Virgin Mary.

As he himself recounts, around 1237, a Christian woman accused a Jewish woman of having committed adultery with her husband. The judges, considering the gravity of the crime and the necessary atonement for the Christian faith, sentenced the accused to death by being thrown from a cliff on the outskirts of the city. Upon reaching the place of execution, the Jewish woman was bound and stripped of her clothes... YOU CAN CONTINUE READING HERE.

The House of Crime, located in the San Millán neighbourhood—also known as the ‘Witches’ Quarter’—is a building with a dark history. Its name derives from a tragic event that took place in May 1892, when three thieves broke into the mansion built by the Ayala-Berganza family in the late 15th or early 16th century.

During the robbery, they murdered the two occupants of the house: Alejandro Bahín, of French origin, and his maid, Isabel García.

It is said that Alejandro was attacked on the stairs; his body was found with his face covered in blood and a handkerchief, whilst his fingernails bore traces of lime, evidence of the struggle.

Isabel’s body was found not far from the scene.

Years later, the police managed to capture the culprits, who were executed, thus bringing this tragic chapter to a close. Since then, the House of Crime remained uninhabited for much of the time until it was renovated and reopened as the Hotel Ayala Berganza.

This curious legend explains how they came to be: whilst a wealthy landowner was admiring his splendid harvest, a poor family arrived at the spot begging for alms; the rich man gave them nothing, replying that the piles they saw there were merely earth. One of the poor men asked that the piles be turned into earth because of the lack of charity, and so it came to pass. Such was the rich man’s distress that he died of grief.

Among the legends surrounding the Alcázar of Segovia, one that stands out is that of the Sala del Cordón, the origins of which, according to tradition, date back to the reign of Alfonso X the Wise.

It was the year 1262 when the monarch was in Segovia. Following the collapse of part of the Alcázar, rumours began to spread that this event was divine punishment for some irreverent words the king had uttered: ‘If God had consulted me, he would have made the world differently’.

A Franciscan friar, named Fray Antonio de Segovia, who was aware of those words, presented himself before the sovereign to ask him to do penance and make amends for his offence. Alfonso X, far from accepting the advice, dismissed the friar in anger.

Shortly afterwards, a terrible storm broke over the Alcázar. A bolt of lightning struck one of its rooms, shattering the vaults and walls and setting fire to several pieces of furniture, including the queen’s dressing table. The monarchs, who were inside at the time, miraculously emerged unscathed.

Terrified by what had happened, Alfonso X summoned the friar once more, acknowledged his guilt and repented of his words. According to legend, the storm then began to subside until it disappeared completely.

In memory of that event, and as a sign of devotion, a cord from the Order of St Francis was placed around the vaulted ceiling of the room. Since then, that room has been known as the Sala del Cordón, a name by which it is still known today.

An ancient legend tells that, many centuries ago, some Gascon and German men found an image of Christ in the tomb, buried on an estate situated on the border between Spain and France, accompanied by a small bell. Eager to venerate it, its discoverers argued over who should keep it, until they decided to let divine will determine its fate.

To this end, they placed the bell around the neck of a mare and loaded the sacred image onto the animal. They decided that the place where the mare came to a halt would be the one chosen by the Holy Christ to be worshipped.

After a long journey, the mare arrived in Segovia and crossed the city until she reached the church of San Justo, which was then a small chapel. There she stopped and, according to one version of the legend, collapsed and died from exhaustion; another version recounts that she entered the church, left the statue beside a bench and died after setting down her precious cargo.

The travellers interpreted this event as a divine sign and realised that Christ had chosen that place to remain. The Gascon and German settlers then decided to settle in Segovia to look after the statue. The Gascon people settled in the vicinity of the church, in the Azoguejo area, giving their name to the former Calle de los Gascones, now Calle de Gascos. The Germans, for their part, settled on the other side, next to a stream that came to be known as Arroyo Alemán.

Since then, the image has been associated with the church of San Justo, where it has been the object of deep popular devotion. Among the most memorable episodes is the so-called ‘Year of the Miracle’ in 1683, when, following a prolonged drought, the people of Segovia carried the Christ out in a procession to pray for rain. According to tradition, the rain came and was so heavy that it even made it difficult to return the image to the church.

Thus was born one of Segovia’s most deeply rooted religious legends, which explains the origin of the devotion to the Santo Cristo de los Gascones, a highly venerated image and the centrepiece of one of the most unique traditions in the city’s historical and religious heritage.

The legend of the Knight of El Parral explains the origins of the Monastery of Santa María del Parral in Segovia.

At the end of the steep street that leads from the bridge at the Royal Mint to the Monastery of El Parral, there is a stone tablet bearing the following inscription: ‘Traitor, your betrayal will be of no avail to you, for if one of those accompanying you fulfils the promise made to me, we shall be equals’.

Visitors may find the language used in the inscription on the path leading to a religious site rather strange.

It is said that Juan de Pacheco, Marquis of Villena and favourite of Henry IV, was a man whose ambition had earned him many enemies, and that one of them challenged him to a duel by the chapel of the Virgin of Parral.

The Marquis of Villena arrived on the appointed day and found that his enemy was there, but not alone: he was accompanied by two men. Feeling at a loss, he offered a prayer to heaven and reacted swiftly, addressing his rival with the phrase engraved on the tombstone. Each of the companions thought it was the other who had betrayed him, and they fought amongst themselves whilst the Marquis of Villena fought the challenger, defeating him.

The marquis gave thanks for having emerged unscathed from such a perilous ordeal, transforming the humble chapel into a spacious and opulent monastery.