Juana la Loca

by Linda Carlino

  Chapter 8

  It was a world of bewildering wealth and merrymaking. Life was one long celebration. The feasts, balls and tournaments held at every stopping point on their travels, each one more splendid than the last, declared that expense was no object. Compared with Castile, where pleasures were kept simple and always under the critical eye of the ascetic priest, this new lifestyle was a revelation to Juana and she threw herself into it with joyous abandon.

  Philip was more gallant than any knight Juana had read of in her romance poems. He had chosen new jousting colours, green and yellow, to make public his love for her. Everyone would recognise that green represented courteous love; young love filled with hopes. Yellow was for contentment, but more than this it was a play on words; Juana = Jeanne = Jaune or Yellow. It was especially for Juana and no one else. She was immensely proud, her heart bursting with love for her knight in his gilded armour as he rode to the tribune to present himself to her. And it proved beyond doubt to his grandmother, Margaret of York, who sat at Juana’s side, (she was always sat at Juana’s side), that Philip could not be happier with his Spanish bride. A delirious happiness filled their days, weeks, months, where nothing else mattered.

  But after a few months cracks began to appear in the euphoria. Problems raised their ugly heads.

  Juana paced about her small salon. She was to meet with the admiral. In her hand she clutched a letter from her mother. The first part was a reprimand from her mother, because she still had not written home. She had been too busy, far too busy, having fun; until recently.

  The latter part of the letter was a repetition of her mother's command to the admiral, … to tell Duke Philip to give Juana the twenty thousand escudos that was established and agreed upon and which is necessary for the upkeep of her house and her state. We are aware that this has not been done.

  It was true; she had been unable to pay her courtiers. Those with rooms within the royal palaces were not too severely disadvantaged but for those who had had to find their own accommodation life was becoming very difficult. Lodgings had to be paid for and it meant selling clothing and jewels. She had asked Philip on several occasions for some money and each time he had said he would attend to it in due course, but nothing had come of it. Admittedly she had not pursued the matter with any vigour, mostly because it slipped her mind, but also it was so embarrassing to have to beg for what was hers by right. The disdainful looks from Philip's secretary and treasurer reminded her, should she need reminding, that she had no authority in this royal court. It was best, then, to ignore the problem.

  Unfortunately her uncle was waiting to be admitted; she was now obliged to discuss the financial affairs of her household, like it or not.

  Maria opened the door and there stood not only her uncle but also her head steward. This was definitely going to be a very serious meeting; two very experienced and knowledgeable men and her so young, and so ignorant, of practical matters.

  Formal greetings were exchanged then they waited, each one looking to the others to open the discussion.

  Juana swallowed hard, the letter refusing to keep still in her hand, ‘I know why you have requested this interview, gentlemen, my mother mentions it here.’

  ‘Indeed ma'am. We are come to inform you that we are to meet with the archduke this afternoon,’ replied Don Fadrique showing her the letter he had received from Queen Isabel.

  ‘Yes ma'am,’ continued her steward, ‘This cannot be allowed to persist. It is unacceptable for good and noble folk to suffer deprivation and hardship, to live in conditions far beneath their station. It is not seemly, ma'am. We have certain standards to maintain. Our very honour is at stake. I beg your pardon for my boldness, but something must be done and without further delay.’

  He was right, and Juana hoped that in his position as head steward he would have some success with Philip. A steward was, after all, the very one to deal with financial matters and not she, nor would he burst into tears when Philip became angry about being asked yet again.

  ‘You are right. I have often broached the subject with my lord. It is my belief that Chimay is not carrying out his instructions.’ Did that sound convincing, or did everyone know that Philip and his court were flagrantly ignoring her requests? ‘It is best that you as our head steward remind my husband of the marriage settlement and insist on the allowance being paid forthwith into our treasury. Then it will all be settled and we can get on with our lives.’

  Don Fadrique was not in the least bit confident, ‘I hope you are right; but I have grave doubts. It may well be that I am too readily suspicious of all things Flemish, but I have the feeling that from the start we Spaniards have never been welcome here. We are snubbed or there are sly whisperings and sniggering behind our backs.’

  So, her uncle had noticed, too, ‘Oh, I am sure you are mistaken. Why, we are all having such a wonderful time; hunting, feasting and dancing. Everyone is joining in merrily together. I have only seen happy faces and lots of laughter.’

  ‘There is a serious matter I must speak of.’ His tone was harsh. The turn of the conversation to the court's idle pastimes had made him angry, and he wanted her to know it. ‘I was hoping not to have to tell you about this. My fleet should have been long gone, and safely arrived in Spain.’

  ‘Yes, I know that Margaret should have left weeks ago but Philip is loath to part with his sister and will not let her go. It is my poor brother I feel for, having to tolerate this lengthy wait, pining for his bride.’

  ‘I cannot bother myself about what Philip wants or what Juan wants. It is more important that I speak plain about what I want,’ he stormed. ‘I have to ask Philip for the umpteenth time to provide for our sailors. Whilst you have been dancing and singing and playing your silly games, good Spanish sailors have been dying. They are freezing or starving to death or dying from God knows what diseases! Our provisions are long gone and our allotted funding exhausted!’

  ‘Don Fadrique, do please calm yourself,’ she smiled to console him, ‘Why, you have turned quite red. It worries me to see you so cross. Of course I am saddened to learn that we have lost some of our men. But you know as well as I that death cuts men down all the time with famine and disease; everywhere, not just here. Perhaps you are getting old, dear uncle, and that is why their deaths are affecting you so.’

  It was time she knew the truth. ‘No one can remain unaffected by the deaths of nine thousand men!’ He nodded his head, confirming the appalling toll.

  Nine thousand men were dead because Queen Isabel had wanted to impress the world with the power of Spain and so had sent a ridiculously large fleet. Nine thousand men were dead because Philip had arrived more than a month late and then could not bear the thought of his sister leaving. Nine thousand men were dead because the winter weather had become so foul it was impossible for the ships to set sail. And many might still die.

  ‘What can I say? I am so dreadfully sorry. If only …’

  ‘I should learn to curb my tongue, stupid man that I am. You could do nothing about it. But the archduke must help.’ He took her hand in his, ‘Dear girl, I should not have burdened you. Off you go, you worry about what you will wear to the ball tonight.’

  Was he being cross with her? Was he mocking her? Was he trying to tell her it was time she shouldered some responsibility? She was uncertain, but found it preferable to suppose that he really was concerned about her continued happiness and sorry that he had let slip the gruesome news.

  She listened and agreed with every point they would put to Philip and told them she was certain of their success. She wished them well and watched them leave the room. For a few moments she remained pensive. Matters were serious, but Philip would be honour bound to respond generously to all their requests.

  It was with a heavy heart that she called Maria to accompany her to her dressing room to prepare her for the ball which now seemed so mistimed. However, all unpleasant thoughts disappeared as petticoats and chemise, blue skirts, a fitted bodice, and finally sl
eeves were tied, buttoned, laced or sewn in place. By the time the dressing process was complete she was happily anticipating all the fun of the banquet and the dancing that was to follow. Margaret had arrived and would be joining them. That would ensure a lively evening; she was always such fun to be with, Margaret always had the best riddles and could tell the most entertaining stories.

  Juana and Margaret were sitting together resting from their dancing and one or two ladies and gentlemen of the court were gathered around them, all vying to tell the best riddle.

  ‘My turn,’ insisted Juana,

  ‘White is the field,

  Black is the seed,

  The man who sows

  Is one who knows.’

  Madame Halewyn, that woman of stone who Philip had recently placed in her household, looked scornfully down her chiselled nose, ‘Everyone knows that one,’ and without giving anyone the opportunity to guess fired her own riddle at Juana.

  ‘Next to an ox it is small,

  Next an egg tinier yet is.

  'Tis more bitter than gall,

  Yet sweeter than any lettuce.’

  Juana was totally perplexed; she could not begin to think. Was it Halewyn’s intention to make her look stupid? Margaret took Juana’s hand, laughing, ‘Why is it that she chooses to tell such difficult riddles, when she knows full well none of us is clever enough to guess the answer. Where does she get them from? So, tell us Halewyn, what this tiny thing can be.’

  ‘I think that you just pretend not to know. I did think, however, that the princess with all her book learning would have recognised an almond immediately,’ Madame Halewyn sniped.

  ‘No, no, that simply is not good enough, is it?’ Margaret enquired of the company, encouraging their groans, ‘That was far too obscure and not the least bit clever. Anyway, I want to tell you all an interesting story about that very tall gentleman over there, the thin one with the very serious expression.’

  They followed her look until they found him and Juana whispered, ‘That is Don Francisco de Rojas, my parents' ambassador to your father.’

  ‘Exactly, and my story is all about him.’ They drew closer together, the gentlemen to sit at the ladies' feet, some lounging on their elbows amongst the trailing skirts, everyone desperately hungry for gossip.

  ‘Well, when he was the proxy for our weddings, he arrived with only the simplest clothes, totally unsuitable for such a grand occasion. The story was that a friend of his offered him a beautiful brocade jerkin and gown. Imagine that tall man with his dark hair and dark eyes wearing olive green, the very colour to enhance those handsome features. Back to my story, the best part, when we both had to lie down on the matrimonial bed,’ she began to laugh and they huddled in all the closer not wanting to miss a word, some taking an extra peek at the tall, thin ambassador dressed this evening all in black. This was going to be one of Margaret’s best stories and about someone right here in this room.

  ‘So, his friend may well have seen to it that his outer garments were in order and suited to the occasion but, dear me, when he removed the gown and the jerkin to come to the ceremonial wedding bed, I tell you I was bursting with laughter. Every movement was so deliberate, demanding my attention, that there was no ignoring his hose which were too loose on him, that they were not properly tied to his doublet allowing his chemise to hang out between the laces. There were yards of it, like a ship in full sail, billowing linen everywhere; and he all the while slowly advancing towards me. I thanked God that the chemise was sufficient to protect my innocent eyes from something even more outrageous than underlinen. I bit hard on my lip so as not to laugh then closed my eyes to deny myself this vision.’

  They laughed helplessly, sneaking glances at Don Francisco, a vivid picture of his escaping rampant linen firmly engraved on their memories.

  The angry voice of the equerry responsible for the safety of the horses on their journey from Spain stopped their laughter. ‘Sirs, this kind of behaviour is not to be tolerated. In Spain no gentleman would be so discourteous as to sit so close to a lady's person. And you, count, instead of behaving like these … these Flems, you should be setting an example of court manners. What would the king and queen think of you sitting on the skirts of Princess Juana and with your head almost touching her royal person?’

  ‘Why you young pup, how dare you!’

  ‘I dare because I defend my lady's honour.’

  ‘In which case I shall be only too glad to offer you the

  opportunity to do just that!’ Juana swallowed hard. She had been borne merrily along on the wave of thoughtless, carefree and indecorous behaviour, intoxicated by the ready acceptance of the normality of permissive ways. Now it had been brought sharply and publicly to her attention and to her conscience by one of her fellow countrymen that it did not accord with her Spanish upbringing. She was ashamed.

  Philip left the side of the young lady whose charms he had found most captivating, her trim little figure exciting him, her warm lips demanding yet more kisses. He was not best pleased by the interruption and strode angrily across the room. ‘Gentlemen, who has caused this, and why?’

  The Count of Chimay detailed the series of events, his fat fingers enjoying the fox fur collar of his short gown, before spreading themselves wide in dismissal of the whole silly affair, ‘You know what these pathetic Spaniards are like, they do not know how to relax and enjoy life.’

  Philip did not dismiss it so flippantly, ‘I see, young sir, that you share the same concern for the ladies and their honour as you did for the horses you brought me. I commend you for your high degree of sensitivity. You are quite right about men lounging on the skirts of our fair ladies. It suggests a lack of respect. See to it gentlemen that I never witness it again.’ He turned to Juana, ‘Will you accompany me in the next dance?’

  He had not been cross with her! She was blameless! Her blushes of shame became those of desire. She could now hold his hand, gaze into her lover’s eyes. She was returned to her small island of complete bliss.

  ‘Your lackeys came to see me today,’ he announced coldly as they passed and bobbed to each other in the dance. ‘They brought all their tiresome problems with them. I tell you I have had enough. You have far too many servants, that is the root of the trouble. They cost too much. I will not be continually pestered about their wages. The time has come to dismiss the lot of them and replace them with good Burgundian folk; I have been concerned for some time about my money going into the hands of foreigners. However, I will instruct Chimay to make some interim payments until arrangements can be made to ship them home.’

  ‘I will keep my personal servants?’

  ‘Some, we shall have to see how many. Chimay tells me that most are here to spy for Spain, and that must be rectified immediately.’

  ‘Sir, you do them a grave injustice, but if it makes you more content then I will accede to the changes.’

  ‘I would remind you that it is not your place to accede or no. In Flanders a wife does as she is bid.’

  What was she to do? There would be more “Madam Halewyns” about her. Cold and contemptuous voices would be waiting, hanging on her every word, ready to ridicule. Her uncle was right, too many of the Flems were mean and spiteful, resentful of her presence. She had to be protected from them; a Spanish court whatever its size was vital. The pulse in her throat was choking her, she bit back threatening tears. A way would have to be found to persuade Philip to be generous.

  The dance ended.

  ‘And will you come to my bed tonight?’ she coaxed, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, toying seductively with his sleeve.

  ‘We shall see, we shall see. I cannot visit you every night.’ He kissed her hand, brushed her cheek with his lips and escorted her to her seat next to Margaret before going off to the far corner of the room to find that lady whose seductive ways were beginning to excite, before he was torn away to deal with those quarrelsome Spaniards. He was not overly concerned if she wasn’t there, for he was minded to
visit Juana after all.

  Juana was impatient for the ball to end that she and Philip might lie together. She would have Zayda bathe her in perfumed water, brush scented oils through her hair, dress her in a wide-necked nightshift that would readily fall from her shoulders; or perhaps place only a robe over her nakedness. Then Philip would come to her bedchamber throwing off his clothes as he approached her bed; and then their love-making would begin, slowly at first, their passions heating as one, until … She blushed with anticipated pleasure; she had learned so much in so short a time.

  Chapter 9

  The twelfth of April, 1498 would always be for her a very, very special day Juana thought and she was not prepared to allow anyone else to bring the news. She rushed along the corridor linking her apartments on one wing of the building to those of Philip’s on the other.

  An enormous cloud of grief caused by the sudden death of her beloved brother had lifted. The huge gulf separating her from her family at a time of immeasurable sorrow didn’t exist; she had received other, more important news that morning.

  The two guards lowered their halberds across the door. Juana laughed, ‘I think the archduke will be quite safe. If you would step aside.’

  For some time now she had been known to vent her fury on her unfaithful husband, and whichever woman of easy virtue happened to be in his bedchamber at the time, pounding on the door hurling abuse of the sort more usually heard in back alleys and not fit for the ears of those of noble birth. This behaviour had earned for her the nickname The Monster. Philip had been the first to call her a shrew, a monster, and it hadn’t taken long for the Flanders’ court to take it up; she had heard them whisper it often enough, it followed her wherever she went.

  ‘You may open the door.’

  She could barely wait until the door was wide enough for her to pass through, ‘Philip, I have such news!’