Beltran nodded slowly. ‘I have seen his eyes resting with alarming speculation on the young Alfonso. Also on his sister.’
‘Oh, those children! And especially Isabella. I fear the years at Arevalo, under the queer and pious guardianship of mad Mamma, have done great harm to the child’s character.’
‘One can almost hear her murmuring: “I will be a saint among women.”’
‘If that were all, Beltran, I would forgive her. I fancy the murmuring is: “I will be a saint among... Queens.”’
‘Alfonso is of course the main danger.’
‘Yes, but I would like to see those two removed from Court. The Dowager has gone. Oh, what a blessing not to have to see her! Long may she remain in Arevalo.’
‘I heard that she has lapsed into a deep melancholy and is resigned to leaving her son and daughter at Court.’
‘Let her stay there.’
‘You would like to banish Alfonso and Isabella to Arevalo with her.’
‘Farther away than that. I have a plan... for Isabella.’
‘My clever Queen...’ murmured Beltran; and laughing, Joanna put her lips to his.
‘Later,’ she said softly, ‘I will explain.’
* * *
Beatriz de Bobadilla regarded her mistress with a certain dismay. Isabella was sitting, quietly stitching at her embroidery, as though she were unaware of all the dangers which surrounded her.
There was about Isabella, Beatriz decided, an almost unnatural calm. Isabella believed in her destiny. She was certain that one day Ferdinand of Aragon would come to claim her; and that Ferdinand would conform exactly with that idealised picture which Isabella had made of him.
What a lot she has to learn of life! thought Beatriz.
Beatriz felt as though she were an experienced woman compared with Isabella. It was more than those four years’ seniority which made her feel this. Isabella was an idealist; Beatriz was a practical woman.
Let us hope, thought Beatriz, that she will not be too greatly disappointed.
Isabella said: ‘I wish there were news of Ferdinand. I am growing old now. Surely our marriage cannot long be delayed?’
‘You may be sure,’ Beatriz soothed, ‘that soon there will be plans for your marriage.’
But, wondered Beatriz, bending over her work, will it be to Ferdinand?
‘I hope all is well in Aragon,’ said Isabella.
‘There is great trouble there since the rebellion in Catalonia.’
‘But Carlos is dead now. Why cannot the people settle down and be happy?’
‘They cannot forget how Carlos died.’
Isabella shivered. ‘Ferdinand had no hand in that.’
‘He is too young,’ agreed Beatriz. ‘And now Blanche is dead. Carlos... Blanche... . There is only Eleanor alive of King John’s family by his first wife, and she will not stand in the way of Ferdinand’s inheritance.’
‘He is his father’s heir by right now,’ murmured Isabella.
‘Yes, but...’
‘But what?’ demanded Isabella sharply.
‘How will Ferdinand feel... how would anyone feel... knowing that it had been necessary for one’s brother to die before one could inherit the throne?’
‘Carlos died of a fever...’ began Isabella. Then she stopped. ‘Did he, Beatriz? Did he?’
‘It would have been a most convenient fever,’ said Beatriz.
‘I wish I could see Ferdinand... talk to Ferdinand...’ Isabella held her needle poised above her work. ‘Why should it not be that God has chosen Ferdinand to rule Aragon, and it is for this reason that his brother died?’
‘How can we know?’ said Beatriz. ‘I hope Ferdinand is not made unhappy by his brother’s death.’
‘How would one feel if a brother were removed so that one inherited the throne? How should I feel if Alfonso were taken like that?’ Isabella shivered. ‘Beatriz,’ she went on solemnly, ‘I should have no wish to inherit the throne of Castile unless it were mine by right. I would wish no harm to Alfonso of course, nor to Henry... in order that I might reach the throne.’
‘I know full well that you would not, for you are good. Yet what if the well-being of Castile depended on the removal of a bad king?’
‘You mean... Henry?’
‘We should not even speak of such things,’ said Beatriz. ‘What if we were overheard?’
Isabella said: ‘No, we must not speak of them. But tell me this first. You do not know of any plan to remove... Henry?’
‘I think that Villena might make such plans.’
‘But why?’
‘I think he and his uncle might wish to put Alfonso in Henry’s place as ruler of Castile, that they might rule Alfonso.’
‘That would be highly dangerous.’
‘But perhaps I am wrong. This is idle gossip.’
‘I trust you are wrong. Beatriz. Now that my mother has gone back to Arevalo I often think how much more peaceful life has become. But perhaps I delude myself. My mother could not hide her desires, her excitement. Perhaps others desire and plan in secret. Perhaps there is as much danger in the silences of some as in the hysteria of my mother.’
‘Have you heard from her since she reached Arevalo?’
‘Not from her but from one of her friends. She often forgets that we are not there with her. When she remembers she is very melancholy. I hear that she lapses into moods of depression, when she expresses her fears that neither Alfonso nor I will ever wear the crown of Castile. Oh, Beatriz, I often think how happy I might have been if we were not a royal family. If I were your sister, shall I say, and Alfonso your brother, how happy we might have been. But from the time I was able to speak I was continually told: “You could be Queen of Castile.” It made none of us happy. It seems to me that there has always been a reaching out for something beyond us... for something that would be highly dangerous should we possess it. Oh, you should be happy, Beatriz. You do not know how happy.’
‘Life is a battle for all of us,’ murmured Beatriz. ‘And you shall be happy, Isabella. I hope I shall always be there to see and perhaps, in my small way, contribute to that happiness.’
‘When I marry Ferdinand and go to Aragon, you must accompany me there, Beatriz.’
Beatriz smiled a little sadly. She did not believe that she would be allowed to follow Isabella to Aragon; she herself would have to marry; her husband would be Andres de Cabrera, an officer of the King’s household, and her duty would be to stay with him, not to go with Isabella – if Isabella ever went to Aragon.
She smiled fondly at her mistress. For Isabella had no doubt. Isabella saw her future with Ferdinand as clearly as she saw the piece of needlework now in her hand.
Beatriz gazed out of the window and said: ‘There is your brother. He has returned from a ride.’
Isabella dropped her work and went to the window. Alfonso looked up, saw them and waved.
Isabella beckoned, and Alfonso leaped from his horse, left it with a groom and came into the Palace.
‘How he grows,’ said Beatriz. ‘One would not believe he is only eleven.’
‘He has changed a great deal since he came to Court. I think we both have. He has changed too since our mother went away.’
They were both more light-hearted now, Beatriz thought. Poor Isabella, how she must have suffered through that mother of hers! It had made her serious beyond her years. Alfonso came into the room. He was flushed and looked very healthy from his ride.
‘You called me,’ he said, embracing Isabella and turning to bow to Beatriz. ‘Did you want to talk to me?’
‘I always want to talk to you,’ said Isabella. ‘But there is nothing in particular.’
Alfonso looked relieved. ‘I was afraid something had gone amiss.’
‘You were expecting something?’ she asked anxiously.
Alfonso looked at Beatriz.
‘You must not mind Beatriz,’ said Isabella. ‘She and I discuss everything together. She is as our sister.’
&
nbsp; ‘Yes, I know,’ said Alfonso. ‘And you ask if I am expecting something. I would say I am always expecting something. There is always something either happening or threatening to happen here. Surely all Courts are not like this one, are they?’
‘In what way?’ asked Beatriz.
‘I do not think there could be another King like Henry in the world. Nor a Queen like Joanna... and a situation such as that relating to the baby.’
‘Such situations may have occurred before,’ mused Isabella.
‘There is going to be trouble. I know it,’ said Alfonso.
‘Someone has been talking to you.’
‘It was the Archbishop.’
‘You mean the Archbishop of Toledo?’
‘Yes,’ said Alfonso. ‘He has been very gracious to me of late... too gracious.’
Beatriz and Isabella exchanged glances of apprehension.
‘He shows me a respect which I have not received before,’ went on Alfonso. ‘I do not think the Archbishop is very pleased with our brother.’
‘It is not for an Archbishop to be displeased with a King,’ Isabella reminded him.
‘Oh, but it could be for this Archbishop and this King,’ Alfonso corrected her.
Isabella said: ‘I have heard that Henry has agreed to a match between the little Princess and Villena’s son. Thus he could make sure of keeping Villena his friend.’
‘The people would never agree to that,’ said Beatriz.
‘And,’ put in Alfonso, ‘there is going to be an enquiry into the legitimacy of the little Princess. If it is found that she cannot be the King’s daughter, then... they will proclaim me heir to the throne.’ He looked bewildered. ‘Oh, Isabella,’ he went on, ‘how I wish that we need not be bothered. How tiresome it is! It is as it was when our mother was with us. Do you remember – at the slightest provocation we would be told that we must take care, we must do this, we must not do that, because it was possible that we should one day inherit the crown? How tired I am of the crown! I wish I could ride and swim and do what other boys do. I wish I did not have to be regarded always as a person to be watched. I do not want the Archbishop to make a fuss of me, to tell me he is my very good friend and will always be at hand to protect me. I will choose my own friends, and they will not be Archbishops.’
‘There is someone at the door,’ said Beatriz.
She went towards it and opened it swiftly.
A man was standing there.
He said: ‘I have a message for the Infanta Isabella.’ And Beatriz stood aside for him to enter.
As he came towards her Isabella thought: How long has he been standing outside the door? What has he heard? What had they said?
Alfonso was right. There was no peace for them. Their actions were watched; everything they did was spied upon. It was one of the penalties for being a possible candidate for the throne.
‘You would speak with me?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Infanta. I bring a message from your noble brother, the King. He wishes you to come with all speed to his presence.’
Isabella inclined her head. ‘You may return to him,’ she said, ‘and tell him that I am coming immediately.’
* * *
As Isabella entered her brother’s apartments she knew that this was an important occasion.
Henry was seated, and beside him was the Queen. Standing behind the King’s chair was Beltran de la Cueva, Count of Ledesma; and the Marquis of Villena, with his uncle the Archbishop of Toledo, was also present.
Isabella knelt before the King and kissed his hand.
‘Why, Isabella,’ said Henry kindly, ‘it gives me pleasure to see you. Does she not grow apace!’ He turned to Queen Joanna, who flashed on Isabella a smile of great friendliness which seemed very false to the young girl.
‘She is going to be tall, as you are, my dear,’ said the Queen.
‘How old are you, sister?’ asked the King.
‘Thirteen, Highness.’
‘A young woman, no less. Time to put away childish things, and think of... marriage, eh?’
They were all watching her, Isabella knew, and she was angry because she was aware of the faint flush which had risen to her cheeks. Did she show the joy which she was feeling?
At last she and Ferdinand were to be united. Perhaps in a few days they would be meeting. She was a little apprehensive. Would he be as pleased with her as, she was certain, she was going to be with him?
How one’s thoughts ran on. They went beyond one’s control.
‘We keep your welfare very close to our hearts – the Queen, myself, my friends and ministers. And, sister, we have decided on a match for you, one which will delight you by its magnificence.’
She bowed her head and waited, hoping that she would be able to curb her joy and not show unseemly delight in the fact that at last she was to be the bride of Ferdinand.
‘The Queen’s brother, King Alfonso V of Portugal, asks your hand in marriage. I and my advisers are delighted by this offer and we have decided that it can only bring happiness and advantage to all concerned.’
Isabella did not believe that she heard correctly. She was conscious of a rush of blood to her ears; she could hear and feel the mighty pounding of her heart. For a few seconds she believed she would faint.
‘Well, sister, I see that you are overcome by the magnificence of this offer. You are a personable young woman now, you know. And you deserve a good match. It is my great pleasure to provide it for you.’
Isabella lifted her eyes and looked at the King. He was smiling, but not at her. He knew of her obsession with the idea of the Aragonese marriage. He remembered hearing how upset she was when she heard that a match had been arranged for her with the Prince of Viana. It was for this reason that he had told her in a formal manner of the proposed marriage with Portugal.
As for the Queen, she was smiling brightly. The match was entirely to her liking. She wanted to see Isabella safely out of Castile, for while she remained there she was a menace to Joanna’s daughter. She would of course have preferred to remove young Alfonso, but that would have presented too many difficulties at the moment. However, the brother would now be weakened by the loss of his sister’s support.
One of them will be out of the way, mused Joanna.
Isabella spoke slowly but clearly, and no one in that chamber remained unimpressed by the calm manner in which she addressed them.
‘I thank Your Highness for making such efforts on my behalf, but it seems that a certain fact has been overlooked. I am already betrothed, and I and others consider that betrothal binding.’
‘Betrothed!’ cried Henry. ‘My dear sister, you take a childish view of these things. Many husbands are suggested for Princesses, but there is nothing binding in these suggestions.’
‘Nevertheless I am betrothed to Ferdinand of Aragon; and in view of this, marriage elsewhere is impossible.’
Henry looked exasperated. His sister was going to be stubborn, and he was too weary of conflict to endure it. If he had been alone with her he would have agreed with her that she was betrothed to Ferdinand, that the King of Portugal’s offer must be refused; and then, as soon as she had left him, he would have gone ahead with arrangements for the marriage, leaving someone else to break the news to her.
He could not do this, of course, in the presence of the Queen and his ministers.
‘Dear Isabella!’ cried Joanna. ‘She is but a child yet. She does not know that a great King like my brother cannot be refused when he asks her hand in marriage. You are fortunate indeed; you will be very happy in Lisbon, Isabella.’
Isabella looked from Villena to the Archbishop and then appealingly at Henry. None of them would meet her gaze.
‘The King of Portugal himself,’ said Henry, studying the rings on his fingers, ‘is coming to Castile. He will be here within the next few days. You must be ready to receive him, sister. I would have you show your pleasure and gratitude that he has chosen you for this high honour.’
Is
abella stood very still. She wanted to speak her protests but it seemed to her that her throat had closed and would not let the words escape.
In spite of that natural calm, that extraordinary dignity, standing here in the audience chamber with the eyes of all the leading ministers of Castile upon her, she looked like an animal desperately seeking a means of escape from a trap which it saw closing about it.
* * *
Isabella lay on her bed; she had the curtains drawn about it that she might be completely shut in. She had prayed for long hours on her knees, but she did not cease to pray every hour of the day.
She had talked to Beatriz; and Beatriz could only look sad and say that this was the fate of Princesses; but she had tried to comfort her. ‘This is an obsession you have built up for Ferdinand,’ she told her. ‘How can you be sure that he is the only one for you? You have never seen him. You know nothing of him except what has come to you through hearsay. Might it not be that the King of Portugal will be a kind husband?’
‘I love Ferdinand. That sounds foolish to you, but it is as though he has grown up with me. Perhaps when I first heard his name I needed comfort, perhaps I allowed myself to build an ideal – but there is something within me, Beatriz, which tells me that only with Ferdinand can I be happy.’
‘If you do your duty you will be happy.’
‘I do not feel that it is my duty to marry the King of Portugal.’
‘It is what the King, your brother, commands.’
‘I shall have to go away from Castile... away from Alfonso... away from you, Beatriz. I shall be the most unhappy woman in Castile, in Portugal. There must be a way. They were determined to marry me to the Prince of Viana, but he died, and that was like a miracle. Perhaps if I prayed enough there might be another miracle.’
Beatriz shook her head; she had little comfort to offer. She believed that Isabella must now leave her childish dreams behind her; she must accept reality, as so many Princesses had been obliged to do before her.
And since Beatriz could not help, Isabella wished to shut herself away, to pray, if not to be saved from this distasteful marriage, to have the courage to endure it.
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