Castile for Isabella

by Виктория Холт

  ‘Poor woman indeed!’ she said. ‘Go down, lest they turn her away. Have her brought in and fed. If she has goods to sell, perhaps she will have something that is needed in the house.’

  Her woman went away to do her bidding, but she soon came back, consternation on her face.

  ‘The woman asks if she may see you, Highness,’ Isabella was told.

  ‘What does she want?’

  ‘She refused to say, Highness. She was very insistent. And, Highness, she does not speak like a peasant though she looks like one.’

  Isabella sighed. ‘Tell her that I am engaged,’ she said. ‘But ask her business and then come and tell me what she says.’

  Isabella paused, and held up a hand to stay her woman for she had heard a voice, protesting in loud tones, which held an unmistakable ring of authority. She knew that voice.

  ‘Go,’ she said, ‘and bring this woman to me... at once.’

  In a few moments the woman was standing on the threshold of the room. She and Isabella looked at each other, and then Beatriz, throwing off her ragged cloak, held out her arms. This was no time for ceremony. Isabella ran to her and they embraced.

  ‘Beatriz! But why? To come like this!’

  ‘Could we be alone?’ asked Beatriz.

  Isabella waved her women away.

  ‘It was the only way to come,’ Beatriz explained. ‘So I came thus... and alone. Had I come as myself, the news could have reached Villena. As it is, you shall come to Segovia, where the King now is, and until you have met and talked with him the meeting will be a secret. It is the only way.’

  ‘Henry has expressed a wish to see me?’

  ‘Henry will see you.’

  ‘Beatriz, what does this mean?’

  ‘We know, dearest Highness, that reconciliation between you and Henry would mean that the people of Castile could live without the daily threat of civil war.’

  ‘Henry knows this!’

  ‘He longs for peace. It will not be difficult to persuade him to it... if we can keep him from Villena.’

  ‘Beatriz, you are asking me to go to Henry. Do you remember how they tried to capture me, to imprison me? Do you remember what was done to Alfonso?’

  ‘I ask you to come to the Alcazar of Segovia. No harm could come to you there. Andres guards it... and I guard Andres.’

  Isabella laughed.

  ‘You were always a forceful woman. Does Andres love you the less for it?’

  Beatriz looked hard at her friend. ‘You, too, are strong,’ she said. ‘And Ferdinand, does he love you less for that?’

  Beatriz noticed that a slight shadow crossed Isabella’s face as she said: ‘I do not know.’

  * * *

  Isabella rode into Segovia with the Archbishop of Toledo beside her.

  Henry received her with warmth, and his eyes filled with tears as he embraced her. ‘You know, my dear sister, that all this strife is none of my making.’

  ‘I do know that, Henry,’ answered Isabella; ‘and the state of our country brings as much grief to me as it does to you.’

  ‘I long for peace.’ Henry said this with unaccustomed vehemence.

  ‘And I.’

  ‘Then, Isabella, why should we not have peace?’

  ‘Because there are jealous nobles who surround us... who jostle each other for power.’

  ‘But if we are friends, what else should matter?’

  ‘It is this affair of the succession, Henry. You know I am the true heiress of Castile. I am your half-sister... your only relation.’

  ‘But there is my daughter.’

  ‘You do not believe Joanna is that, Henry.’

  ‘Her mother swore it.’

  ‘You do not believe her, Henry.’

  ‘Who shall say? Who shall say?’

  ‘You see,’ said Isabella, ‘if you would but accept me as heir to the throne there would be no more strife. If you and I were friends and were seen together, how happy all would be in Castile and Leon.’

  ‘I long to see all happy.’

  ‘Then Henry, we could begin to right these wrongs; we could bring back law and order to the country. There is this senseless conflict as to who is the heir, when there are so many important reforms to be considered.’

  ‘I know. I know.’

  The Archbishop came to them. He did not wait to be announced. He had assumed complete authority.

  ‘If you would walk through the city holding the bridle of the Princess’s palfrey, Highness, in an intimate manner, as brother to sister, it would give great joy to the people of Segovia.’

  ‘All I wish is to give them joy,’ Henry insisted.

  * * *

  The people of Segovia had vociferously expressed their delight at the sight of the King, walking through their streets and holding the bridle of his sister’s palfrey. Here was good news. The threat of civil war was over. The King had cast off the yoke of Villena; he was thinking for himself; he was surely going to accept Isabella as his heir.

  When they returned to the Alcazar, the people gathered outside and shouted: ‘Castilla! Castilla! Castilla for Henry and Isabella!’

  Henry, with tears in his eyes, saluted the people.

  It was long since he had been so cheered.

  * * *

  Late that night Beatriz hurried to Isabella’s bedchamber.

  Isabella had already retired.

  ‘Isabella,’ whispered Beatriz in her ear, ‘wake up. Someone has arrived who is waiting to see you.’

  Isabella started up in bed. ‘What is this, Beatriz?’

  ‘Hush,’ said Beatriz. ‘The palace is sleeping.’

  She then turned and beckoned, and Isabella saw a tall, familiar figure enter the apartment.

  She gave a cry of gladness, for Ferdinand had thrown himself upon the bed, and she was in his arms.

  Beatriz stood by, laughing.

  ‘He has come at a good moment,’ she said.

  ‘Any moment he comes is a good one,’ answered Isabella.

  ‘My dear Isabella,’ murmured Ferdinand.

  Beatriz said: ‘There will be plenty of time later to show each other your pleasure. At the moment there is one other matter of importance to settle. Henry has received you, Isabella, but will he receive your husband? That is what we have to consider. And it will soon be known that Ferdinand has returned and that you are both here with the King. Once this reaches Villena’s ears, he will do his utmost to prevent the renewal of friendship between you all. Tomorrow morning early, you must seek an audience with Henry. You must persuade him to see Ferdinand.’

  ‘He will do so; I know he will.’

  ‘He must,’ said Beatriz. ‘It is imperative. He must be reconciled to you both. It will be Twelfth Day... is it tomorrow, or the next day? That is an excuse for a banquet. We shall give one – Andres and I – and when it is seen how friendly the King is towards you two, all will know that he acknowledges your marriage and accepts you as his heirs. I shall leave you now. But until the King has received Prince Ferdinand it should not be known, except by those whom we can trust, that he is here.’

  * * *

  Ferdinand had thrown off his travel-stained garments, and Isabella was in his embrace.

  ‘It seems so long since I saw you,’ he said.

  ‘There should not be these partings.’

  ‘Yet, if it is necessary, they must be. How is our daughter?’

  ‘Well and happy. How delighted she will be to see her father!’

  ‘Has she forgotten him?’

  ‘No more than I could. And Aragon?’

  ‘My father is a mighty warrior. He will always win.’

  ‘As you will, Ferdinand.’

  There was need for silence, and after a while she said: ‘Was it not courageous of Beatriz to arrange this meeting between the King and ourselves!’

  ‘She is a courageous woman, I’ll grant you – but...’

  ‘You do not like Beatriz, Ferdinand. Oh, but that must not be. She is one of my dear
est friends.’

  ‘She is unlike a woman. She has hectoring ways.’

  ‘That is her strength.’

  ‘I like not hectoring women,’ said Ferdinand.

  The faintest alarm came to Isabella. In her life as a Queen there would be times when she must make her own decisions and all others must respect them.

  But Ferdinand was home after a long absence; and she could not think of the difficulties which lay ahead. They were of the future and the present time had so much to offer.

  * * *

  Beatriz was exuberant. Her schemes for the reunion of Isabella and Ferdinand with the King had had as great a success as she had hoped for.

  Henry was pliable, subject to be swayed by the prevailing wind; and here in Segovia with the guardian of his treasury, and the latter’s forceful wife, he appeared to be the firm friend of Ferdinand and Isabella.

  He had ridden to the Twelfth Night celebrations between Ferdinand and Isabella, smiling and chatting with them as they rode, to the intense joy of the people. Through the streets they had ridden thus to the Bishop’s palace, between the Alcazar and the Cathedral, in which the Twelfth Night banquet was being held.

  The banquet, supervised by the indefatigable Beatriz, was a success. Sweating serving men and women waited on the guests and minstrels played in the gallery. At the head of the table sat the King; on his right hand was Isabella, and on his left, Ferdinand.

  Beatriz surveyed her beloved mistress and friend with beaming satisfaction, and Andres watched his wife.

  He was aware of a certain tension, a certain watchfulness. It was inevitable, he told himself. All the conflict, all the strife, could not be dispersed by one brief meeting. Henry was eating and drinking with enjoyment, and his eyes were becoming a little glazed as they rested on one of the most sensuously beautiful of the women. Henry had not become a wise King in such a brief period of time; Isabella had not become secure in her place.

  The banquet over, dancing began.

  As Isabella was seated by the King, Beatriz hoped that he would lead the Princess in the dance. What could be more symbolic?

  Yet Henry did not dance.

  ‘My dear sister,’ he murmured, ‘I feel a little unwell. You must lead the dance – you and your husband.’

  So it was Isabella and Ferdinand who rose, and as they came into the centre of the hall others fell in behind them.

  Beatriz hastened to the side of the King.

  ‘All is well, Highness?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘I am not sure,’ said Henry. ‘I feel a little strange.’

  ‘It is too hot for Your Highness, perhaps.’

  ‘I know not. I seem to shiver.’

  Beatriz beckoned to the beautiful young woman who had caught the King’s notice during the banquet; but Henry now seemed to be unaware of her.

  ‘Sit beside him,’ whispered Beatriz. ‘Speak to him.’

  But the King had closed his eyes and had slumped sideways in his chair.

  * * *

  All night long the King lay groaning on his bed. He was in great pain, he declared.

  News spread through Segoyia that the King was ill, and that the nature of his illness – vomiting, purging and stomach pains – pointed to poison.

  There were silent men and women in the streets of Segovia; yesterday they had cheered; today they were solemn.

  Could it be that the King had been lured to Segovia that he might be poisoned? And who was responsible for his condition?

  There were many, who had helped at the banquet, who might wish him dead, for almost everyone present was a supporter of Isabella and Ferdinand.

  The people of Segovia did not wish to believe that their beloved Princess could be guilty of such a crime.

  When Isabella heard of the King’s illness she was horrified.

  ‘He must not die,’ she said to Beatriz. ‘If he does, we shall be blamed.’

  Beatriz recognised the good sense of that.

  ‘Remember,’ said Isabella,’ the conflict in Aragon when the people believed that Carlos was murdered. How many suffered and died during those ten years of civil war?’

  ‘We must save the King’s life,’ said Beatriz. ‘I must wait upon him. It would not be wise for you to be constantly in the sick room. If he died they would surely blame you then.’

  So Beatriz supervised the nursing of the King, and it seemed that because she so willed that he should not die, his condition began gradually to improve.

  * * *

  The Marquis of Villena rode with his troops into Segovia and imperiously presented himself at the Alcazar.

  Isabella and Ferdinand received him calmly, but Villena was far from calm. He was enraged and alarmed.

  The King was not to be trusted. As soon as his, Villena’s, back was turned he was consorting with the opposite side. This would teach him a lesson.

  Villena demanded that he be taken at once to the King.

  ‘I fear,’ said Isabella, ‘that my brother is not well enough to receive visitors.’

  ‘I demand to be taken to him.’

  ‘You may not make your demands here,’ said Isabella.

  ‘I wish to assure myself that he is receiving the best attention.’

  ‘I will send for our hostess and she will tell you that there is no need for alarm.’

  When Beatriz arrived she told Villena that the King’s condition was improving, but that he was not well enough to leave Segovia for a while.

  ‘I must be taken to him at once,’ said Villena.

  ‘I am sorry, my lord,’ Beatriz answered, her voice placating but her eyes belying her tone. ‘The King is not well enough to receive visitors.’

  ‘I shall stay here until I see him,’ said Villena.

  ‘We cannot deny you hospitality, since you ask it so graciously,’ answered Beatriz.

  But even she could not keep Villena from the King. Villena had his men everywhere, and it was not an insuperably difficult task to get a message to Henry that Villena was in the Alcazar, and that if the King valued his life he must insist on seeing him without delay.

  * * *

  Villena sat by Henry’s bed. He was shocked by the King’s appearance. His illness had changed Henry. He had become gaunt and his skin was yellow.

  Henry thought he saw a change in Villena. There was a certain lessening of that intense vitality, a certain greyish tinge to the skin.

  ‘Your Highness should never have been so foolish as to come here,’ said Villena.

  ‘I could not know that I should be smitten with this illness,’ murmured Henry peevishly.

  ‘That you should be so smitten was the only reason why you were lured here.’

  ‘You think they tried to poison me?’

  ‘I am sure of it. And they will continue to do so while you are in this place.’

  ‘I trust Isabella.’

  ‘Trust Isabella! She has a throne to gain. It cannot be hers while you live.’

  ‘She is certain that she is the true heiress, and she is ready to wait.’

  ‘But not to wait too long, it seems. No, Highness, we must remove you from here as soon as possible. And we must not allow this attempt on your life to be ignored.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ asked Henry wearily.

  ‘We shall send forces to Segovia. They will enter the town stealthily and take possession of vital points. Then they shall make Isabella their prisoner on the ground that she tried to poison you. We could bring her to trial for that.’

  ‘I do not believe Isabella would try to poison me.’

  ‘Then you do not believe the evidence of your senses.’

  ‘Cabrera’s wife has nursed me well.’

  ‘A poisonous woman.’

  ‘A good nurse. She seemed determined to save my life. And, Marquis, do you not think that I should acknowledge Isabella as heir to the throne? She is the one the people want. And with Ferdinand’s help she would bring Castile out of its present troubles.’

  ‘B
ut your will, of which you have made me executor, clearly states that your daughter Joanna is heir to the throne.’

  ‘It’s true. Little Joanna. She is but a child. She will be surrounded by wolves... wolves who seek power. I came to the conclusion, when I rode through the streets of the town with Ferdinand and Isabella, that matters would be simplified if I admitted that Joanna was not my daughter and made Ferdinand and Isabella my heirs.’

  ‘I see that some of the poison has been effective,’ said Villena. ‘As soon as you are well enough to travel we must leave this place for Cuellar. There we will make our plans for the capture of Isabella. We shall not be safe until she is under lock and key. And I tremble for your safety while you are in this place.’

  ‘I do not,’ said Henry. ‘I do not believe Isabella would allow any harm to befall me.’

  Villena looked with scorn on the King and, as he did so, he placed his hand to his throat.

  ‘What ails you?’ asked Henry. ‘You look as sick as I do myself.’

  ‘It is nothing. A certain dryness of the throat. A certain discomfort, nothing more.’

  ‘You have not the same colour that you had.’

  ‘I have scarcely slept since I heard the news that Your Highness was here at Segovia in the midst of your enemies.’

  ‘Ah, if I had but known who were my friends and who my enemies I should have had a happier life.’

  Villena looked startled. ‘You talk as though you had come to the end of it. No, Your Highness, you will recover from this attempt on your life. And it shall not be forgotten. Let us make certain of that.’

  ‘Well,’ said Henry, ‘if Isabella was behind a plot to poison me, she deserves imprisonment.’

  * * *

  In the town of Cuellar, whither Villena had taken the King, plans were made for the capture of Isabella.

  ‘Forces shall enter the town,’ said Villena. ‘Explosives will be thrown at the Alcazar; the inhabitants will be terror-stricken, and then it will be no difficult matter to secure the person of Isabella.’