‘And you did not find that sympathy,’ said Isabella. ‘Tell us what you hope to discover.’
‘A sea route to Cathay and Zipango. Highnesses, the great Atlantic Ocean has never been crossed. No one knows what lies beyond it. There may be rich lands as yet undiscovered. Highnesses, I ask you to make this expedition possible.’
The Queen said slowly: ‘You speak with some conviction, yet the King of Portugal was unconvinced.’
‘Highness, he set up an ecclesiastical council. He asked monks to decide regarding a voyage of discovery!’ Colon had drawn himself up to his great height, and his eyes flashed scorn.
Talavera’s indignation rose. Talavera, whose life had been lived in the cloister, was afraid of new ideas. He was fanatically religious and deeply superstitious. He was telling himself that if God had wished man to know of the existence of certain continents He would not have made them so inaccessible that over many centuries they had remained unheard of. Talavera was wondering whether this foreigner’s suggestions did not smack of heresy.
But Talavera was on the whole a mild man; it would give him no pleasure – as it would have given Torquemada – to put this man on the rack and make him confess that his suggestions came from the devil. Talavera showed his scepticism by cold indifference.
‘So you failed to convince the King of Portugal,’ said the Queen. ‘And for this reason you come to me.’
Ferdinand put in: ‘Doubtless you have charts which might help us to decide whether this journey would be a profitable one.’
‘I have certain charts,’ said Cristobal cautiously. He was remembering that the Bishop of Ceuta, having been made aware of nautical details, had dispatched his own explorers. Cristobal was not going to allow that to happen again. His most important charts he would keep to himself.
‘We should have to give this matter great thought before committing ourselves,’ said Ferdinand. ‘We are engaged in a Holy War at the moment.’
‘But,’ said Isabella, ‘rest assured that your suggestions shall have our serious considerations. I shall appoint a council to consider them. They will be in touch with you; and if the report they bring to me is hopeful, I will then consider what can be done to provide you with what you need.’ She inclined her head. ‘You will be informed, Señor Colon, of the findings of the committee which I shall set up.’
From beside the Queen, Beatriz de Bobadilla was smiling encouragement at him.
Cristobal knelt before the Sovereigns.
The audience was over.
* * *
The Señora Beatriz de Arana was waiting for him on his return. She looked at him expectantly; his expression was noncommittal.
‘I do not know what will be the outcome,’ he said. ‘They are going to set up a commission.’
‘But that is hopeful, surely.’
‘They set up a commission in Lisbon, my dear lady. An ecclesiastical commission. The Queen’s confessor was present at this interview. I did not much like his looks. But there was one there – a maid of honour of the Queen – and she . . . she seemed to think something of me.’
‘Was she handsome?’ asked the Señora earnestly.
Cristobal smiled at her. ‘Very handsome,’ he said. ‘Very, very handsome.’
Beatriz de Arana looked a little sad, and he went on quickly: ‘Yet haughty, forceful. I prefer a gender woman.’
She said: ‘I have a meal waiting for you. Come into my house and we will eat together. We will drink to the success of your enterprise. Come now, for the food is hot, and I would not have it spoilt.’
So he followed her into her house and, when they had eaten the excellent food she had cooked and were flushed with the wine she provided, he leaned his arms on the table and talked to her of voyages of the past and voyages of the future.
He felt then what a comfort it was to have someone to talk to, as once he had talked to Filippa. This homely, comfortable widow reminded him of Filippa in many ways. She came and looked over his shoulder, for he had taken a chart from his pocket and was describing the routes to her; and as he felt her hair against his cheek, he turned to her suddenly and took her into his arms.
She lay across his knees smiling at him gently and hopefully. She had been lonely for so long.
He kissed her and she responded.
It was a strange day for Cristobal – the audience with the King and Queen, the acquisition of a mistress. It was the happiest day he had lived through for years. Diego was being well cared for in the Monastery of Santa Maria de la Rabida, and his mind was at rest concerning Filippa’s son; and here was a woman ready to comfort him. For once in his life he would cease to dream of the future and for a very short time enjoy the present.
Later, Beatriz de Arana said to him: ‘Why should you go back to your lonely house? Why should I be lonely in mine? Give up your house and let my house be our house during the weeks of waiting.’
* * *
Ferdinand snapped his fingers when Colon had left and Beatriz de Bobadilla and Talavera had been dismissed.
‘This is a dream,’ he said. ‘We have no money to finance a foreigner’s dreams.’
‘It is true that there is little to spare,’ Isabella agreed.
Ferdinand turned to her, his eyes blazing. ‘We should prosecute the Holy War with every means at our disposal. Boabdil is ours to command. Never has the position been so favourable, yet we are prevented from making war by lack of money. Moreover, there are the affairs of Aragon to be considered. I have given all my energies to this war against the Infidel, when, were I able to work for Aragon, I should make myself master of the Mediterranean. I could defeat the French and win back that which they have taken from me.’
‘If we dismiss this man,’ said Isabella, ‘he will go to France and in that country ask for the means to make his discoveries.’
‘Let him!’
‘And if he should be right? If his discoveries should bring great wealth to our rivals, what then?’
‘The man is a dreamer! He’ll discover nothing.’
‘I think you may be right, Ferdinand,’ said Isabella quietly, ‘but I have decided to set up a commission to consider the possibilities of his success in this enterprise.’
Ferdinand lifted his shoulders. ‘That could do no harm. And whom will you put in charge of this commission?’
‘I think Talavera is the man to conduct it.’
Ferdinand smiled. He felt certain that if Talavera were at the head of the commission the result would be the refusal of the foreign adventurer’s request.
* * *
Talavera sat at the head of the table; about him were ranged those who had been selected to help him arrive at a decision.
Cristobal Colon had stood before them; he had eloquently argued his case; he had shown them charts which were in his possession, but he had held back certain important details, remembering the perfidy of the Portuguese.
Then he had been dismissed, while the judges made their decision.
Talavera spoke first. ‘I believe this man’s claims to be fantastic’
Cardinal Mendoza put in quickly: ‘I would not be so bold as to say that anything on this earth was fantastic until I had proved it to be.’
Talavera looked with mild exasperation at the Cardinal, who had become Primate of Spain and who took such a large part in state affairs that he was beginning to be known as the Third King of Spain. It was like Mendoza to side with the adventurer. Lackadaisical in his religion, Talavera believed that, for all his undoubted talents, Mendoza was a menace to Castile. The Inquisition was firmly established, but Mendoza was not in favour of it. He was no zealot for either side, and he made no attempt to pit his love of toleration against the burning fanaticism of men such as Torquemada. He merely turned distastefully from the subject and devoted himself to state affairs.
Friar Diego Deza, a Dominican, who was of the commission, also spoke up in favour of the adventurer.
‘The man has a zeal about him, a determination, which it
is impossible to ignore,’ said Deza. ‘I believe he knows more than he tells us. I believe that if he were supported he would at least discover new sea routes, if he did not discover new lands.’
Talavera said: ‘I sense the devil in his proposals. Had God wished us to know of this land, do you doubt that He would have told us? I am not certain that we should not pass this man over to the Holy House for questioning.’
Mendoza inwardly shivered. Not that, he thought. That bold man, stretched on the rack, hanging on the pulley, subjected to the water torture . . . forced to admit . . . what! That he had strayed from the tenets of the Church, that he had committed the mortal sin of heresy?
Mendoza pictured him – boldly facing his accusers. No, no! It must not happen. Mendoza would bestir himself for such a man.
He rejoiced, for the sake of Cristobal Colon, that it was the comparatively mild Talavera and not the fanatical Torquemada who was at the head of this commission, as he, Mendoza, had decided what he would do. He would not press his point here. He would let Talavera have his way. He would agree that the voyage was impracticable and have a word with the Queen quietly afterwards, for Talavera would be contented if he prevented the Sovereigns’ spending money on the enterprise. This unimaginative man would feel he had done his duty, and Cristobal Colon would then be of no more importance to him.
So Mendoza, subduing Deza with a look which conveyed that they would talk together later of this matter, allowed Talavera to carry the day.
The other members, mostly ecclesiastics of the same type as Talavera, were ready to follow him, and the news was taken to the Sovereigns. ‘The commission has questioned Cristobal Colon; they have weighed up the possibilities of success and have found them wanting. It would be quite impracticable to finance such a fantastic voyage which, it is the considered opinion of the commission, could only end in failure.’
* * *
Beatriz de Bobadilla put aside her decorum and stormed into the Queen’s apartment.
‘That fool Talavera!’ she cried. ‘So he has turned you against this adventurer.’
‘Beatriz!’ Isabella exclaimed in pained surprise.
Beatriz’s answer was to fling herself at Isabella’s feet. ‘Highness, I believe he should be given a chance.’
‘My dear friend,’ said Isabella, ‘what can you know about this? A commission of learned men has decided that it would be a waste of money we need so badly to finance this man’s expedition.’
‘A commission of idiots!’ cried Beatriz.
‘Beatriz, my dear, I suggest you retire and calm yourself,’ said Isabella quietly and firmly, in that tone which implied that immediate obedience was expected.
When Beatriz had left, the Cardinal of Mendoza arrived.
‘Highness,’ he said, ‘I have come to tell you that I am not in entire agreement with the findings of the commission.’
‘You mean you have given way to Talavera?’
‘I felt the bulk of opinion against me, Highness. May I tell you exactly what I feel?’
‘That I expect you to tell me.’
‘I feel this, Highness. It may well be an impracticable dream, but it is equally certain that it may not be. If we dismiss this man he will go to another country . . . probably France or England. I ask Your Highness to consider what would happen if the King of France or England provided this man with what he asks. If he were successful, if he discovered a world of great riches for them . . . instead of for us . . . our position would be changed considerably. That is what I wish to avoid.’
‘But, my dear Cardinal, the commission does not believe this voyage would be a success.’
‘The commission is largely composed of ecclesiastics, Highness.’
‘Of whom you are one!’
‘I am also a statesman; and I beg Your Highness to consider the possibility of the man’s discoveries passing into hands other than your own.’
‘Thank you, Cardinal,’ she said. ‘I will consider this.’
* * *
Cristobal Colon was summoned once more to the presence of the Sovereigns.
Ferdinand was delighted.
‘I knew,’ he told Isabella, ‘that the man was a fanatic, from the moment I saw him. Three carvels! Men to man them! He asked us to provide these that we may waste our substance. So the commission has proved me right.’
‘There were a few voices raised in opposition,’ Isabella reminded him.
‘The majority saw through my eyes,’ retorted Ferdinand.
Isabella said softly: ‘Ferdinand, can you visualise the riches that may exist in lands as yet undiscovered?’
Ferdinand was silent for a few moments; then he snapped his fingers. ‘Better to seek to regain the riches which we have lost than look for those which may not even exist. There are riches within Granada which we know to exist. Let us make sure of the substance before we seek to grasp the shadow.’
Talavera and Mendoza arrived with the members of the commission, and news was brought that Cristobal Colon had arrived at the Palace and was seeking audience with the Sovereigns.
‘Let him be brought to us at once,’ said Isabella.
Cristobal came in. With the air of a visiting king he bowed before the Sovereigns. His eyes were alight with fervour. He could not believe that they would be so foolish as to deny him the money he asked, in exchange for which he would bring them great riches.
‘The commission has given us its answer concerning your project,’ said Isabella slowly.
He lifted those brilliant blue eyes to her face and she felt herself soften towards him. When he stood before her thus he could make her believe in his promises. She understood why he had produced the effect he had on Beatriz and Mendoza.
She said gently: ‘At this time we are greatly occupied with a grievous war; and it is for this reason that we find ourselves unable to embark on this new undertaking.’
She saw the light die out of his eyes. She saw the droop of his shoulders; she saw the frustration on his face, and she went on quickly: ‘When our war is won, Señor Colon, we shall be ready to treat with you.’
He did not answer. He was not aware of the amazement in Talavera’s eyes, of the triumph in Mendoza’s. He only knew that once again he had been bitterly disappointed.
He bowed and left the presence of the Sovereigns.
* * *
It was Beatriz de Arana who comforted him.
‘At least,’ she said, ‘they have promised to do something.’
‘My dear,’ he answered, ‘I have heard such promises before. They come to nothing.’
She told him then that she could not understand her feelings. She wept because she loved him and she could not bear to see his bitter disappointment; yet how could she help but rejoice that he was left to her a little longer!
But even as she spoke she saw the speculation in his eyes.
She knew he was wondering whether he might not find more sympathy at the Court of France.
Yet he turned to her and caressed her, and he too would have been sad if they had to part. But she understood. This dream of a great voyage was a part of himself; it must come to fruition. He had parted with his beloved son, Diego, for its sake. So would he part from Beatriz if and when the time should come.
There was at least this respite, she told herself; and as she felt his hands stroking her hair, she knew that all the comfort he could feel at this moment must come from her.
* * *
There was a visitor to the little house, and Beatriz ushered him in and called to Cristobal.
Beatriz left the two men together.
‘Let me introduce myself,’ said the man. ‘I am Luis de Sant’angel and I am the Secretary of Supplies in Aragon to King Ferdinand.’
‘I am glad to know you,’ said Cristobal, ‘but what can your business be with me?’
‘I come to tell you that you have friends at Court; there are many of us who believe in your enterprise and are going to do our utmost to persuade the Sovereigns to
support you.’
Cristobal smiled wanly. ‘I thank you. And if I seem ungrateful, let me tell you that for many years I have sought to make this journey, and again and again I have suffered the same frustration. I have had friends at Court, but they have not been able to persuade my detractors that I can achieve what I say I can.’
‘Do not despair. Let me tell you, Señor Colon, that you have friends in very high places. The great Cardinal Mendoza believes you should be given a chance. And he is said to be the most important man at Court, and to wield great influence over the Queen. Fray Diego de Deza, who is tutor to the Prince Don Juan, is also in your favour. And there is one other – a lady of great power. You see, Señor, you have your friends and supporters.’
‘I rejoice to hear this, but I would rejoice more if I might be allowed to fit out my carvels and make my plans.’
‘Come to the Palace this day. We have news for you.’
He left shortly afterwards, and Cristobal hurried to tell Beatrix what had happened.
She stood at the window watching him as he left for the Palace; there was a spring in his step. The Aragonese Jew, Luis de Sant’angel, had revived his hopes.
Beatriz turned hurriedly away from the window.
* * *
When Cristobal presented himself at the Palace he was taken to the apartments of Beatriz de Bobadilla.
Beatriz, who was now Marchioness of Moya, was not alone. With her were Fray Diego de Deza, Alonso de Quintanilla, the Queen’s secretary, Juan Cabrero, Ferdinand’s chamberlain and Luis de Sant’angel.
Beatriz studied the man who stood before her, and she felt her spirits lifted. She wished in that moment that she could accompany him on his voyage, that she might be the one to stand beside him when he had his first sight of the new lands which he would discover.
Spain for the Sovereigns Page 24