Castile for Isabella

by Виктория Холт

  Louis had made no concession to the occasion and wore the clothes he was accustomed to wear at home. He delighted in making himself the least conspicuous of Frenchmen, and consequently favoured a short worsted coat with fustian doublet. His hat had clearly served him as well and as long as any of his followers; in it he wore a small image of the Virgin – not in glittering diamonds or rubies as might have been expected, but of lead.

  French eyes smiled at the garments of the Castilians; there were suppressed guffaws and murmurs of ‘Fops! Popinjays!’

  The Castilians showed their disgust of the French; and asked each other whether there had been a mistake, and it was the king of the beggars not the King of the French who had come to greet their King.

  Tempers were hot and there was many a fracas.

  Meanwhile the Kings themselves took each other’s measure and were not greatly impressed.

  Louis stated his terms for the peace, and these were not entirely favourable to Castile. Henry however, always eager to take that line which demanded the least exertion on his part, was eager for one thing only: to have done with the conference and return to Castile.

  There was a great deal of grumbling among his followers.

  ‘Why,’ they asked each other, ‘was our King ever allowed to make this journey? It is almost as though he must pay homage to the King of France and accept his judgement. Who is this King of France? He is a moneylender – and a seedy-looking one at that.’

  ‘Who arranged this conference? What a question! Who arranges everything at Court? The Marquis of Villena, of course, with that rascal, his uncle, the Archbishop of Toledo.’

  During the journey back to Castile, Henry’s adviser, the Bishop of Cuenca, and the Marquis of Santillana, who was head of the powerful Mendoza family, came to the King and implored him to re-consider before he allowed himself to enter into such humiliating negotiations again.

  ‘Humiliating!’ protested Henry. ‘But I should not consider my meeting with the King of France humiliating.’

  ‘Highness, the King of France treats you as a vassal,’ said Santillana. ‘It is unwise to have too many dealings with him; he is a wily old fox; and, as you will agree, the conference has brought little good to Castile. Highness, there is another matter which you should not ignore: Those who arranged this conference serve the King of France whilst feigning to serve Your Highness.’

  ‘That is a serious and dangerous accusation.’

  ‘It is a dangerous situation, Highness. We are certain that the Marquis and the Archbishop are in league with the King of France. Conversations between them have been overheard.’

  ‘It is difficult for me to believe this.’

  ‘Did they not arrange this conference?’ asked Cuenca. ‘And what advantage has it brought to Castile?’

  Henry looked bewildered. ‘Are you suggesting that I bring them before me and confront them with their villainies?’

  ‘They would deny the accusation, Highness,’ Santillana put in. ‘That does not mean that they would speak the truth. We can bring you witnesses, Highness. We are assured that we are not mistaken.’

  Henry looked from his old teacher, the Bishop of Cuenca, to the Marquis of Santillana. They were trustworthy men, both of them.

  ‘I will ponder this matter,’ he said.

  They looked dismayed, and he added: ‘It is of great importance, and I believe that, if you are right, I should not continue to give these men my confidence.’

  * * *

  The Archbishop of Toledo stormed into the apartments of his nephew.

  ‘Have you heard what I have?’ he demanded.

  ‘I understand from your expression, Uncle, that you refer to our dismissal’

  ‘Our dismissal! It is preposterous. What will he do without us?’

  ‘Cuenca and Santillana have persuaded him that they will prove adequate substitutes.’

  ‘But why... why...?’

  ‘He objects to our friendship with Louis.’

  ‘Fool! Why should we not listen to Louis and give Henry our advice?’

  Villena smiled at his fiery uncle. ‘It is a common failing among kings,’ he murmured, ‘and perhaps not only kings. They insist that those who serve them should serve no other.’

  ‘And does he think that we are going to lie down meekly under this... this insult?’

  ‘If he does, he is more of a fool than we thought him.’

  ‘Your plans, nephew?’

  ‘To call together a confederacy, to proclaim La Beltraneja illegitimate, to set up Alfonso as the heir to the throne... or...’

  ‘Yes, nephew, or... what?’

  ‘I do not know yet. It depends how far the King will proceed in this intransigent attitude of his. I can visualise circumstances in which it might be necessary to set up a new King in his place. Then, of course, we should put little Alfonso on the throne of Castile.’

  The Archbishop nodded, smiling. As a man of action he was impatient to go ahead with the scheme.

  Villena smiled at him.

  ‘All in good time, Uncle,’ he warned. ‘This is a delicate matter. Henry will have his supporters. We must act with care; but never fear, since Henry listens to others, he shall go. But the displacement of one King by another is always a dangerous operation. Out of such situations civil wars have grown. First we will test Henry. We will see if we can bring him to reason, before we depose him.’

  * * *

  Queen Joanna paced angrily up and down the King’s apartments.

  ‘What are they doing, these ex-ministers of yours?’ she demanded. ‘Oh, it was time they were dismissed from their posts. They are against us... do you not see? They are trying to push you aside and set up Alfonso in your place. Oh, it was folly not to force Isabella to go to Portugal. There she would at least have been out of the way. How do we know what she says to that brother of hers? You can be assured that she repeats the doctrines of her mad mother. She is priming Alfonso, telling him that he should be the heir to the throne.’

  ‘They cannot do this... they cannot do this,’ wailed Henry. ‘Have I not my own child!’

  ‘Indeed you have your own child. I gave you that child. And there were not many women in Castile who could have managed that. Look at your trials and failures with your first wife. Now you have your child. Our little Joanna will remain heiress to the throne. We will not have Alfonso.’

  ‘No,’ said the King. ‘There is little Joanna. She is my heir. There is no law in Castile to prevent one of the female sex taking the crown.’

  ‘Then we must be firm. One of these days Villena will march to the executioner’s knife, and he’ll take that villainous old Archbishop with him. In the meantime we must be firm.’

  ‘We will be firm,’ echoed Henry uncertainly.

  ‘And not forget those who are ready to stand firmly beside us.’

  ‘Oh yes, I wish there were more to stand firmly with us. I wish there need not be this strife.’

  ‘We shall be strong. But let us make sure of the strength of our loyal supporters. Let us give them our grateful thanks. You are grateful, are you not, Henry?’

  ‘Yes, I am grateful’

  ‘Then you must show your gratitude.’

  ‘Do I not?’

  ‘Not sufficiently.’

  Henry looked surprised.

  ‘There is Beltran,’ the Queen went on. ‘What honours has he had? The Count of Ledesma! What is that for one who has worked with us... for us... unflinchingly and devotedly? One to whom we should be for ever grateful. You must honour him further.’

  ‘My dear, what do you suggest?’

  ‘That he be made Master of Santiago.’

  ‘Master of Santiago! But that is the greatest of honours. He would be endowed with vast estates and revenues. Why, he would have the largest armed force in the Kingdom put into his hands.’

  ‘And it is too much, you think?’

  ‘I think, my dear? It is the people who will think it is too much.’

  ‘
Your enemies?’

  ‘It is necessary to placate our enemies.’

  ‘Coward! Coward! You have always been a coward! You fret over your enemies and forget your friends.’

  ‘I am willing to honour him, my dear. But to make him Master of Santiago... !’

  ‘It is too much... too much for your friend! You would rather give it to your enemies!’

  The Queen put her hands on her hips and laughed at him.

  Now she was ready to begin pacing the apartment again. She was going to start once more on that diatribe which he had heard many times before. He was a coward; he deserved his imminent fate; when he was thrust from his throne he would remember that he had spurned her advice; he placated his enemies, and those who served him with every means at their disposal – like Beltran de la Cueva – were forgotten.

  Henry lifted his hands as though to ward off this spate of accusation.

  ‘That is enough,’ he said. ‘Let him have it. Let us bestow on Beltran the Mastership of Santiago.’

  * * *

  Now the new party was in revolt. It was humiliating enough, they said, to be forced to suspect the legitimacy of the heiress to the throne, but to see the King so far forget his dignity as to heap honours on the man who was generally accepted as her father was intolerable.

  Castile trembled on the edge of civil war.

  Valladolid was entered by the rebels and several of Villena’s party of confederates declared that they were holding the city against the King, However, the citizens of Valladolid, while deploring the weakness of the King, were not ready to ally themselves with Villena; and they expelled the intruders. But when Henry, travelling to Segovia, very narrowly escaped being kidnapped by the confederates, he was thoroughly alarmed. He, who had worked hard at nothing except avoiding trouble, now found himself in the midst of it.

  Villena wrote to him. He was grieved, he said, that enemies had come between them. If the King would see him and the heads of his party he would do his utmost to put an end to the strife which trembled so near to civil war.

  The King had deplored the loss of Villena’s counsel. Villena had been the strong man Beltran could never be. Beltran was charming, and his company pleasant; but Henry needed the strength of Villena to lean on; and when he received this communication he was anxious to meet his ex-minister.

  Villena, delighted at the turn of events, met Henry. With Villena came his uncle, the Archbishop, also the Count Benavente.

  ‘Highness,’ Villena addressed Henry when they were gathered together, ‘the Commission, which has been set up to test the legitimacy of the Princess Joanna, has grave doubts that she is your daughter. In view of this we deem it wise that your half-brother Alfonso be proclaimed as your heir. You yourself must abandon your Moorish Guard and live a more Christian life. Beltran de la Cueva is to be deprived of the Mastership of Santiago. And finally your half-brother Alfonso is to be delivered into my hands that I may be his guardian.’

  ‘You ask too much,’ Henry told him sadly. ‘Too much.’

  ‘Highness,’ urged Villena, ‘it would be wise for you to accept our terms.’

  ‘The alternative?’ asked Henry.

  ‘Civil war, I greatly fear, Highness.’

  Henry hesitated. It was so easy to agree, but he had later to face an enraged Joanna, who was determined that her daughter should have the crown. Then Henry slyly thought of a way of pleasing both Joanna and Villena.

  ‘I agree,’ he said, ‘that Beltran de la Cueva shall be deprived of the Mastership of Santiago and that you shall become the guardian of Alfonso. He shall be proclaimed heir to the throne, but there is a condition.’

  ‘What condition is this?’ asked Villena.

  ‘That he shall, in due course, marry the Princess Joanna.’

  Villena was startled. The heir to the throne marry the King’s illegitimate daughter! Well, on consideration it was not a bad suggestion. There would always be some to declare that La Beltraneja had been falsely so called; there would also be others who, seeking a cause for which to make trouble, would choose hers. Moreover, it would be some years before La Beltraneja was of an age to marry. By that time, if necessary, other arrangements could be made.

  ‘I do not see,’ said Villena, ‘why this should not be.’

  Henry felt pleased with his little effort of diplomacy. He could now more easily face the Queen.

  * * *

  Alfonso sat at his sister’s feet, watching her as she worked at her embroidery. Beatriz de Bobadilla was with her.

  Alfonso had lately made a habit of spending a great deal of time in his sister’s apartments.

  Poor Alfonso, mused Isabella; he is old enough to understand the intrigues which split the Court in two; and he knows that he – even more than I – is at their very core.

  ‘Alfonso,’ she said. ‘You must not brood. It does no good.’

  ‘But I have a feeling that I shall not be allowed to stay here much longer.’

  ‘Why should they take you away?’ asked Beatriz. ‘They know you are safe here.’

  ‘Perhaps they do not greatly care for my safety.’

  ‘You are wrong in that,’ said Isabella. ‘You are very important to them.’

  ‘I wish,’ said Alfonso, ‘that we were a more normal family. Why could not we all have been the children of our father’s first wife! Then I think Henry would have loved us as you and I love each other. Why could not Henry have taken a wife who was more like a Queen, and had many sons about whose parentage there would have been no question!’

  ‘You want everyone to be perfect in a perfect world,’ murmured Beatriz with a smile.

  ‘No, not perfect... merely normal,’ said Alfonso sadly. ‘Do you know that the heads of the confederacy are meeting the King this day?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Isabella.

  ‘I wonder what they will decide.’

  ‘We shall soon know,’ said Beatriz.

  ‘These confederates,’ went on Alfonso, ‘they have chosen me... me... as their figurehead. I do not want to be part of the confederacy. All I want is to stay here and enjoy my life. I want to go riding; I want to fence and play games. I want to sit with you two and talk now and then, not about unpleasant things... but about comfortable, cosy things.’

  ‘Well, let us do that,’ said Isabella. ‘Let us now be cosy... comfortable.’

  ‘How can we,’ demanded Alfonso passionately, ‘when we can never be sure what is going to happen next?’

  There was silence.

  What a pity, thought Isabella, it is that princes and princesses cannot always be children. What a pity that they have to grow up and that people often fight over them.

  ‘Do the people hate Henry so much?’ asked Alfonso.

  ‘Some of them are displeased,’ Beatriz answered him.

  ‘They have reason to be,’ Isabella spoke with some vehemence. ‘I have heard that it is unsafe to travel through the countryside without an armed escort. This is terrible. It is an indication of the corrupt state into which our country is falling. I have heard that travellers are captured and held to ransom, and that even noble families have taken up this evil trade and ply it shamelessly.’

  ‘There is the Hermandad, which has been set up to restore law and order,’ said Beatriz. ‘Let us hope it will do its work well’

  ‘It does what it can,’ Isabella pointed out. ‘But it is a small force as yet; and everywhere in our country villainies persist. Oh, Alfonso, what a lesson this is to us. If ever we should be called upon to rule we must employ absolute justice. We must never install favourites; we must set good examples and never be extravagant in our personal demands; we must always please our people while helping them to become good Christians.’

  A page had come into the room.

  He bowed before Isabella and said that the Marquis de Villena with the Archbishop of Toledo were below; they were asking to be received by the Infante Alfonso.

  Alfonso looked sharply at his sister. His eyes appealed. He wante
d to say that he could not be seen; for these were the two men whom he feared more than any others, and the fact that they had come to see him filled him with dread.

  ‘You should receive them,’ said Isabella.

  ‘Then I will do so here,’ said Alfonso almost defiantly. ‘Bring them to me.’

  The page bowed and retired, and Alfonso turned in panic to his sister.

  ‘What do they want of me?’

  ‘I know no more than you do.’

  ‘They have come from their audience with the King.’

  ‘Alfonso,’ said Isabella earnestly, ‘be careful. We do not know what they are going to suggest. But remember this: You cannot be King while Henry lives. Henry is the true King of Castile; it would be wrong for you to put yourself at the head of a faction which is trying to replace him. That would mean war, and you would be on the wrong side.’

  ‘Isabella...’ Tears filled his eyes, but he dared not shed them. ‘Oh, why will they not let us alone! Why do they torment us so?’

  She could have answered him. She could have said: Because in their eyes we are not human beings. We are lay figures placed at certain distances from the throne. They want power and they seek to obtain it through us.

  Poor, poor Alfonso, even more vulnerable than she was herself.

  The page was ushering in the Marquis of Villena and the Archbishop of Toledo, who seemed astonished to find Isabella and Beatriz there; but Alfonso immediately put on the air of an Infante and said: ‘You may tell me your business. These ladies share my confidence.’

  The Marquis and the Archbishop smiled almost obsequiously, but their respect could only disturb the others.

  ‘We come from the King,’ said the Archbishop.

  ‘And you have a message from His Highness for me?’ Alfonso enquired.

  ‘Yes, you are to prepare to leave your apartments here for new ones.’

  ‘Which apartments are these?’

  ‘They are mine,’ said the Marquis.

  ‘But I do not understand.’