Juana la Loca

by Linda Carlino

  Isabel was alarmed. Did Juana still not realise the true nature of royal marriages? How could she not after all their discussions? It worried her to see the mind of her innocent sixteen year old continue to be filled with foolish romantic notions; the result, no doubt, of having her nose forever buried in books.

  But all serious misgivings about this union had to be set aside. Her son, as the inheritor of all Spain and its dominions was central to the negotiations; but truth to tell, and it was a very painful truth, his health was not good. Spain’s security had to be maintained and its power increased. It was vital, therefore, that the contract with the Emperor Maximilian should be for the two marriages, lest that of Juan should come to nought. A match with their eldest daughter Isabel had been refused. Maria had to be held in reserve for any contingencies which might arise. Catalina, their youngest, was promised to the Prince of Wales. Unfortunately, it had to be Juana.

  Juana tugged at her hand, ‘Mother, I am waiting for you to tell me if I am pretty enough. It is taking you quite a while to decide.’

  ‘Oh, you are pretty enough, my child,’ Queen Isabel stroked her daughter’s head. For just a moment she felt a wave of guilt at the sacrifice of this the prettiest and weakest of her lambs. Chapter 2

  Queen Isabel had predicted that Juana’s departure would “be upon us in no time.” The intervening months since that cold, January day had sped by and now Juana found herself sitting with her mother making the final checks of the various itineraries; and she was not in the best of moods.

  The whole business had become most aggravating. It had started well enough discussing the inventory of furnishings and the materials for her new and splendid wardrobe. Then she had been delighted with the contents of the jewellery box, her parents' gift. What fun she had had modelling the ropes of pearls, the gold chains, the exquisite earrings; making her beringed fingers dance like butterflies about her mother each and every finger sparkling with a precious stone set in its golden circle. They had been like two young girls together. More serious matters had followed starting with the allowance she would have for herself and her household. This would come from her husband, just as Juan would provide a similar amount for Margaret. It was an astonishingly generous annuity of twenty thousand escudos, but there was little need for her to bother her head with details as she would have a treasurer to deal with boring accounts.

  The choice of ladies-in-waiting had irritated her to the point where she had insisted they defer making some decisions until later when perhaps, just perhaps, some sort of compromise could be reached.

  So it had come as no surprise to either of them that on hearing her mother’s nomination for confessor Juana rebelled, refused, shouting, ‘No! I will not have him. He is your choice not mine. I would never confess to him. I neither like him nor trust him. Mother, I insist I have someone I know will stand by me and not someone put there to spy on me. You have chosen him because you do not trust me!’

  ‘Juana, remember who you are, and what you are …’ Isabel began. A clattering, skittering of hooves on cobblestones setting the courtyard ringing mercifully brought their dispute to an end.

  ‘That must be Juan,’ cried Juana, and Isabel, with a nod, agreed that it probably was and that it would be a blessing since they were not going to make any further progress today.

  Juana made as if to stand but her mother's restraining hand on her wrist demanded she remain seated. She glowered at her mother, her face a mixture of anger and misery so Isabel relented, removed her hand and nodded her approval. Like an animal freed from a trap Juana leapt to her feet.

  Below in the courtyard Juan and his steward were dismounting and handing over the reins to stable lads who had raced to claim the honour. Other members of his household were still arriving, each to be similarly greeted and attended to. Juana hurried along the open gallery, snatching quick glances of the excitement below her. Then, too impatient to wait any longer, she leaned over the balustrade and clapped her hands, calling down to him. He looked up, saw her, and gave her a huge smile. He waved his large travelling hat making a great show of having to avoid the cloud of dust from its immense brim before making her an absurdly deep bow. She laughed, her fingertips held to her lips, and she ran back to the room, to her mother, all arguments forgotten.

  Isabel was standing waiting, resolute. She cautioned, ‘We will continue this another time, Juana. There is still much to talk about. And, in the light of your behaviour this morning, I am even more determined you have good counsellors about you. But for the present let us go down to welcome our angel.’

  ‘Dear, blessed angel indeed,’ agreed Juana. The courtyard remained pleasantly cool in the July sunshine. Isabel, Ferdinand and their family found the summer months in northern Spain far more to their liking than in the south where the intense heat and searing sun made life almost unbearable. This year it suited them to come to Almazán. From here Isabel would find it more convenient to attend to the details of the fleet for the Flanders voyage, while Ferdinand could visit his court in Zaragoza as often as was required, especially during this time of unrest between Aragón and France.

  It was here only a few days earlier that they had invested

  Juan, heir to the throne, as Prince of Asturias, granting him the cities, lands and revenues pertaining to the title. This castle, set on a hilltop and looking out over the most beautiful of valleys, was a part of the gift and Juan was already beginning to furnish it to his liking, a summer home for himself and his bride.

  The two ladies stepped from the shadows into the warmth of the early afternoon sunlight and into the sweetest of summer perfumes from the jasmine and roses twisting and turning about the columns of the arcade.

  Juan and his steward were supervising the unloading of rolled up tapestries, huge chests of silver and gold plate and enormous candelabra. Isabel grasped the opportunity to stroke the chestnut neck of her son's mount. Her thoughts skipped back over the years to remembered damp, earthy scents of the days when she went hunting for wild boar in the dark, dank forests shot through with flashes of autumn gold. She could still hear the earnest thud of the hooves, the creaking leather, jingling harness and bridle, the snorts of horses eager for the chase. There was nothing to equal the exhilaration, the excitement. Now she was too old; sighing, she patted the horse's flank.

  Juan saw his mother and came to kiss her outstretched hands. The servants stopped, heads respectfully bowed, until all the greetings were over and they could resume their unloading of carts before leading away the oxen.

  ‘Welcome, welcome, my angel. It warms my heart to see you organising a home for Margaret.’

  ‘Dearest mother, that is exactly what I want. I want a home, not a castle, for my bride. S-sister Juana, you too must be finding these days exciting, and not so many more b-before you l-leave …,’ his voice trailed off noting how quickly her welcoming smile was fading and the corners of her mouth were beginning to turn downward, ‘You are n-not sad are you Juana?’

  ‘Not now my dearest,’ Isabel warned, ‘we all have much to tell, but later, please. You are tired, dusty and thirsty.’

  She placed herself between her children, wanting no further display of temper from Juana and she certainly did not want Juan disturbed by any outburst from his sister when he was already exhausted. This uncontrollable stammering signalled his weariness, and it worried her that a half-day’s journey should have taken such a toll.

  ‘We shall prepare ourselves for lunch and afterwards everyone will rest.’ It was not an invitation, it was a command. ‘This evening will provide all the time we need for everyone's news and by then we shall all be refreshed. Come.’

  ‘Bruto, take up your station!’ Juan commanded a rather scraggy-looking black and white hound, which immediately lolloped, its ragged tail crazily scything the air, to stand guard beside the queen.

  Juan offered his mother his hand, his arm first tracing a huge arc before her. She accepted it, inclining her head with exaggerated grace, delighting
in precious moments such as these, happy to see that he was not so tired after all. Juana received one of his understanding smiles. She gave his hand a squeeze of gratitude.

  ‘Bruto, forward march!’ With great pomp and dignity humming a fanfare he and Bruto escorted the two ladies, who in no time at all were both laughing. The morning's bitterness was forgotten - for the moment.

  Late in the evening, when dinner was over, the family gathered in their mother's apartments, hastily seating themselves on their floor-cushions, impatiently awaiting her first question that would then permit theirs. Isabel was in her favourite leather chair with her four girls and her beloved son forming a circle around the brazier, brought in to offset the chill that often crept into the room even on summer nights.

  The room was a comfortable size sufficient for their family and not too large to lose its intimacy. transformed the stone walls into vast woodland. The flickering of torches in their sconces and heavy curtains drawn against any intruding draft lent an added cosiness. Juan sat at his mother's feet prepared for her first

  Flemish tapestries tracts of peaceful question. ‘Are you well pleased with your steward?’

  ‘Oh, certainly. We have a great understanding of one another. Of course your careful training has helped me tremendously. I am confident I have the ability to run a household. I rarely need to ask him for advice. And you know, mother, he is a most likeable person, very well mannered and friendly and an excellent riding companion.’

  Isabel stiffened, ‘Take particular care Juan to see that he is not permitted to be friendly. You must remember that you are the prince and he only the steward. There should never be an occasion when you can be friends. As I have said you are the master and he is the servant. I would wish you both never to forget that. He must never expect anything from you other than that which you demand. After that it is at your discretion when and where to grant favours.’

  ‘Yes, yes, dear mother, I understand and believe me he does know his place and always will, but please let us not be so serious.’

  ‘No mother, not so serious. And I have something to ask Juan,’ broke in Catalina, who with all her ten years felt that her question was more urgent than anything her mother or the others might wish to concern themselves with. ‘I want to know if you feel any different now that you are the Prince of Asturias.’

  ‘It certainly sounds very grand, Catalina, and I admit I think it does make me feel older if not wiser.’ He pretended to whisper a special secret, just for her, ‘What is even better, I now have more money for myself and my bride.’

  Catalina giggled. ‘I would feel so proud to have a title. I know what I shall be known as. Just imagine having to call me Catalina, Princess of Aragón, the Princess of Wales. Does not that have such a pretty ring to it?’ She stood up, hastily straightening her skirts, to walk proudly around the circle, nodding her head acknowledging her humble subjects. She bobbed a curtsey to her mother before hugging her and returning to her cushion, a rosy blush creeping across her cheeks.

  ‘Yes dear, and one day you will have a title all of your own; when the time is right. Then you will be able to tell us just how it feels. At the moment it is not fitting for you to assume a title, even in jest. I will forgive you this once, my child.’

  ‘Yes, yes, sorry,’ she hurried on, ‘but Juan, is it not quite wonderful that you are to marry a beautiful girl? I think that must be the best news ever.’

  ‘You are right dear Catalina, it is good news. But what I hope for most of all is someone who is happy and can discover happiness in the most ordinary of things. What do you say dear sister Isabel?’

  ‘Without doubt what you say is true.’ A smile flickered for a moment then died leaving tragedy written deep in her gaunt young face. ‘Finding happiness together in everything, no matter how mundane, is important; but of more importance is that you both share a deep love of God, that is when you will have joy beyond … forgive me.’ She lowered her head to hide the tears from her family and fingered the embroidered pattern on her girdle as though hoping to discover comfort there. Seven years had passed but still the pain of the premature death of her most devout Christian husband lingered.

  Her mother shook her head, ‘Isabel you must try harder, you really must. You do so disappoint me!’

  Isabel’s answer was a fit of coughing; a cough that racked her thin frame, about to break it with its violence.

  Juana mused on her mother's arch comments, Isabel’s misery, Catalina’s refreshing innocence, and on her own daunting future

  ‘You did not answer me, Juana.’ Her brother was bending over her, ‘We thought you had fallen asleep. You were in a little world of your own.’

  ‘Sorry, I did not realise you had spoken to me,’ she looked nervously from her brother to her sisters and finally to her mother. How often had Juan tried to attract her attention before he had got to his feet to come over to her? ‘I beg your pardon … I was thinking … forgive me; what were you saying?’

  ‘We were wondering what your ideas might be for a happy marriage.’

  ‘Well,’ she began, biting back the desire to say that given any choice in the matter probably no marriage at all would be by far the best, ‘I think a happy marriage depends entirely upon the couple both being good looking making it easy for them to love each other with the whole of themselves not just with their minds but with their bodies. To share …’

  Queen Isabel could not believe her ears, she was astounded that any lady would speak so, she was furious that her daughter dared. ‘Juana I think you forget yourself, you have gone too far, much too far this time.’

  Silence, complete and scarcely breathe.

  ‘No mother I have not gone too far,’ she boldly replied, knowing full well she had done, but at the same time hoping that an inspired thought might just render her safe from severe censure, ‘for I have in mind you and father, the perfect partnership.’

  Audacious it might well have been but it worked. Her brother and sisters, freed from their dreadful apprehension of yet another conflict between their mother and Juana, applauded in nervous agreement, while the queen looked searchingly at her daughter. Was this a sign of her daughter's growing worldliness and precociousness, and if so did it spell further worries for this marriage with Philip?

  Juan invited Maria to say something, ‘You have not had your say; come, what are your views?’

  Maria knew he would remember that she had not yet been asked. So often in these family

  tertulias , discussions, she was the one left until last, but she was never left out, Juan saw to that.

  ‘I think you must be philosophical about it,’ she paused for effect, waiting until her audience had fully appreciated the new word so recently acquired, before continuing. ‘With this approach you are bound to find happiness in all things generally and in marriage in particular.’ Her eyes shone and she coloured to the roots of her hair while she repeated her profound statement to herself with delicious satisfaction. She looked to her mother for confirmation of the wisdom of her fourteen years.

  Clapping his hands and laughing Juan invited her to explain.

  ‘I mean you must be positive: do not go searching for troubles and difficulties, discuss misunderstandings. Something unbearable silence; they could of that nature.’ She turned again to her mother this time seeking support, which she received in the form of a warm smile and a sigh.

  But Isabel had no heart for a family gathering tonight, or for the direction in which the conversation was apparently headed, and she desperately needed to talk to Juan. She would hear no more; she bade her daughters goodnight and dismissed them.

  The moment they left Isabel bared her heart, ‘My angel, I realise that you must be exhausted from your journey and this tiresome evening, but bear with your poor mother a few moments more while she begs a favour.’

  ‘Dearest mother you do not need to beg of me, I am your most willing and obedient servant. It would give the greatest joy to do anything to please you. I see
the worried look in your eyes. How can I help?’

  ‘Do talk to Juana; appeal to her better nature. It concerns the choice of members of her household. She is convinced that I am imposing my will at every juncture and only for my own self-interest. This is not so. I seek only to offer her the best support. This morning when I suggested the Dean of Jaen to help her with her prayers and confession she refused vehemently.’ She stood up and began to pace about the room, ‘In any other circumstances I would concede. But Juan, we hear such disturbing rumours of Philip and his dissolute ways. These and Juana's, shall we say, less than heartfelt dedication and commitment to the faith, and her tender youth convince me that the people I have chosen, especially spiritual advisers, are essential. They will provide some stability in what may well be extremely difficult times.’

  ‘Yes of course I will talk to her. I know she will tell me what her objections are, and I am sure I can dismiss them as being totally unfounded and unjustified. They certainly are with regard to the Dean who is such a kind and gentle priest. I shall then offer my suggestions. She always respects my ideas so it will not take much to persuade her. If you would give me a list of those you wish to accompany Juana you can leave the rest to me. Never fear, she shall not know that I am your emissary. I will be nothing more than her concerned brother.’

  ‘If you could possibly do this for your mother; you are the only one to dissuade Juana from her own misguided choices.’

  ‘I will do everything in my power to bring you peace of mind and I, like you, want nothing less for Juana than she have the people around her who she truly needs.’

  ‘God bless you my angel.’

  Chapter 3

  The brisk morning sunshine stole into the courtyard without offering any hint of warmth and travellers and well-wishers alike were thankful for their cloaks at this early hour.

  Everyone had been assembled for some time anticipating an early departure but Isabel and Ferdinand had still to appear. Horses and mules fidgeted impatient to be off, servants and soldiers shifted their weight from one weary foot to the other; and Juana agonised.