Have you ever heard the story of Queen Ketevan of Georgia and her martyrdom? I hadn’t, until a few years ago when I wandered into our neighbour, the Convento da Graça here in Graça, Lisbon, to see an exhibition on the Procession of Corpus Christi. It wasn’t the 1587 clay miniatures that captured my attention.
What truly mesmerised me were the azulejo panels lining the vast convent hall. These are, without doubt, among the most beautiful tiles I’ve seen in Lisbon—and some of the most disturbing. Their subject is the brutal martyrdom of Queen Ketevan, a Christian queen tortured to death for refusing to convert to Islam, a story I’d first read about in an Indian newspaper years before. Here, Portuguese monks immortalised her ordeal in vivid blue‑and‑white scenes, not for the faint‑hearted.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by the very panels I’d been searching for. The miniatures faded into the background as I was drawn into the grisly narrative, told in life‑size azulejos that feel like a haunting, cinematic tableau
Ketevan reigned in Kakheti, in eastern Georgia, at the beginning of the 17th century. In 1614, she travelled as a negotiator to Shah Abbas I of Persia and was held for years in Shiraz. When her son Teimuraz refused to submit, Abbas ordered her to renounce her Christian faith; when she refused, she was tortured to death with red‑hot pincers in 1624.
Portuguese Augustinian missionaries were eyewitnesses to her martyrdom and secretly took part of her relics to Georgia, where they were interred at Alaverdi Monastery in Kakheti. The rest are believed to have been buried at the St Augustine Church in Goa, after modern expeditions to locate them. These same missionary stories inspired the azulejo panels in the Convento da Graça—and later a replica panel now displayed at Chateau Mukhrani winery in Georgia.
Tile Panel Showing Queen Ketevan’s Martyrdom Unveiled in Georgia Ketevan reigned in Kakheti, a feudal state located in the east of Georgia, at the beginning of the 17th century. She was killed in Shiraz, Iran, after prolonged torture sessions from the Safavid Suzerains of Georgia for refusing to give up her Christian faith and convert to Islam.
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A Portion of her relics were clandestinely taken by the St Augustine Portuguese Catholic missionaries, eyewitnesses of her martyrdom, to Georgia where they were interred at the Alaverdi Monastery in the Kakheti region.Tamar Svanidze 20.10.2015 Georgie Today
I’ve returned to these panels many times, and they never fail to fascinate. Yet, so many questions remain unanswered.
Why is there such secrecy surrounding their existence? Why aren’t they promoted as a major attraction? Even the Museu Nacional do Azulejo offers no information about them.
Online, you’ll find names, dates, and places—but who were the monks who witnessed and recorded these events? Why are the faces missing? And how did these panels end up in Graça? Even more curious, how did a full-size replica find its way to a winery in Georgia, apparently unnoticed? In an age when even the smallest event goes viral, why all the secrecy?




A guest recently asked for my thoughts on the Museu Nacional do Azulejo, Lisbon’s famous National Tile Museum. Honestly, we rarely recommend it to first‑time visitors; there’s simply so much else to see, do and eat in Lisbon, especially around Graça. If you’re passionate about azulejo history, techniques and classic church interiors, it’s worth a visit—especially for the chapel and some of its spectacular 17th and 18th‑century panels.
But, as I admitted to our guest, many people find it a bit dry compared with discovering tiles in the wild. Instead, I often point out the incredible walls of tiles scattered across Lisbon and the new street‑art‑inspired azulejos by artists like Jorge Romão, AdFuel and the legendary Mr. A—all within a short walk of Tings Lisbon in Graça.
Yet nothing, for me, compares to the Martyrdom of Queen Ketevan panels in the Convento da Graça. They’re no longer locked away, but they still aren’t celebrated as they deserve to be, and unless you know the story, you’ll probably walk right past them. If you’re a true tile lover, come and see these extraordinary azulejos for yourself—they’re one of Lisbon’s best‑kept secrets, just around the corner from us at Tings Lisbon.
Thomas