Juana la Loca

by Linda Carlino

  He emerged from his dressing room, surprised at her presence.

  Juana kissed him, ‘I am with child! The doctors are certain!’

  He returned her kiss, hugged her then held her up high. ‘I am going to be a father. My clever Juana. Will it be a boy?’

  ‘They cannot tell yet; they must wait a while to see which of my breasts becomes the larger, if it is the right one it will be a boy.’

  ‘I am to be a father! Celebrations are called for. We shall have a tournament for my beautiful wife who is going to have our child.’

  ‘But what of the mourning?’ The cloud had returned.

  ‘Life is for the living, my pet. I should think that even your mother would rejoice at this news. No tears, Juana, I insist.’

  ‘But it would be wrong with my brother dead, and what of poor Margaret?’

  ‘I will not allow you to dwell on such things, you must think only happy thoughts. We shall take a walk in the garden and make plans for the celebrations. The banquet will be bigger and better than any you have ever known: roast swans, pheasants, partridges dressed in their feathers …’

  ‘Meat pastries made to look like castles …’

  ‘Fish on huge salvers, silenced by a circle of jelly sirens.’

  They laughed as they tried to outdo each other with new ideas as they walked back to Juana’s rooms for her to dress for outdoors.

  She held a much read letter close to her breast as Maria removed her shoes to replace them with a pair of buskins, tying the side laces once they were firmly in place.

  ‘Why did God have to take him from us?’ She wept again for the beloved brother she had confided in so often, who had entertained her with his humour, who was always there to comfort and reassure. ‘Juan was the best person the world has ever known. It broke my heart to leave him, to leave my best friend. And he was married to Margaret for such a short time.’

  She opened Margaret’s letter and read, ‘… I am with child! A grandchild for Queen Isabel! She is overjoyed and of course has much counsel for my welfare. We are all so happy. Yet within weeks of this letter he was dead.’

  Zayda took the letter from her mistress to return it to the jewellery box, gently admonishing her, ‘Today is not the day to indulge your sadness.’

  ‘And,’ Maria added, ‘I do not think the archduke would like to take his good lady out walking when she has a long face and red-rimmed eyes. We must find a way to repair the damage.

  You must wear the green cloak today with its special brooch.’ ‘Maria I think you are becoming a romantic.’

  The diamond brooch was Philip’s gift; their initials standing

  side by side held together with a love knot.

  ‘When you return from your walk we can discuss what you

  should wear for the celebrations. This is going to be such fun!

  We have been a long time without any.’

  ‘I wonder what Margaret of York will have to say about my

  good news.’

  Maria giggled, ‘Plenty, without doubt.’

  Chapter 10

  She caught them! They were locked in each other’s arms, standing at the head of the old spiral staircase close to his apartments.

  ‘You harlot, you whore, what did he offer you to let him rummage in your bodice, to pull up your skirts and push himself inside you, and you standing there against a wall like a woman of the night?’

  Juana pulled at Philip’s arm, trying to drag him away, ‘You think you can poke at anything in skirts. How dare you fornicate in your wife’s home!’

  She turned back to face the embarrassed lady-in-waiting, ‘Get yourself to a whorehouse where you belong. You can spread your legs there as much as you like, and wash away the filth ready for the next man who wants to get his prick …’ she continued her language deteriorating throughout her tirade.

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth,’ Philip hissed.

  ‘If this is all the respect you have for your wife, I would rather be damned than ever have you known as the Prince of Castile. You are contemptible!’ She hurried from the scene of her humiliation.

  ‘I decide what happens here!’ Philip announced to her back. ‘I am leaving. When you have learned to control your harridan’s tongue I shall return.’

  Laughter and cries of, ‘The Monster, The Monster is back to her old ways.’

  Maria appeared from somewhere and swept down the corridor shooing them away like errant stubborn sheep who had wandered onto her land.

  Juana fled into her apartments, slamming the door on the world, shutting out Philip’s voice calling out his intentions, and startling Zayda as she arranged her mistress’s dressing table. Hot tears of hurt and shame scalded her cheeks, she brushed at them with the back of her hand then reached for her box of letters.

  Zayda watched her with alarm, ‘You are upset enough without adding to it.’

  ‘This is all I have of my family, the only way I can feel close to them, and I need them.’

  She read them all, quietly sobbing, until she got to the last one. ‘Dear God is there no end to it? Margaret was delivered of a child, a girl, but dead. My heart is broken and can take no more pain. My poor mother; she lost her dearly beloved son, and now his child, the last of the male line, is dead. As well as the crippling pain of her loss all her hopes and aspirations are gone.’

  While it was necessary for her mistress to have some time for grieving, today of all days was not the day. She had an important visitor and would need every ounce of fortitude. Zayda therefore gathered up the letters and put them away offering words of comfort, ‘Out of the bad always comes good. This tragedy means that Margaret will be coming home and you will have your friend and confidante beside you once more.’

  It was as if Juana had not heard. ‘Please love me, Philip.’ Her cry had broken free delivering her from the depths of her dejection. ‘When he is with me I know he does. If there were just the two of us in our land of passion or nestling embraces, or if there was no ugly toad called Chimay whispering in Philip’s ear, or no Busleyden insisting on what Philip may or may not do, we would be the happiest people in the world.’ She pulled and twisted at the handkerchief Zayda had offered.

  ‘You will have to wait until Archbishop Busleyden dies, the same applies to Philip’s grandmother. They have both hovered over him since he was four years old, attacking anyone not to their liking who gets too close.’

  ‘They hate me, Zayda.’

  ‘Try to forget them.’ She laughed, ‘They would make an ideal couple: both ancient walking skeletons, both adoring Philip, both loathing Spain. But I was talking of good always coming from bad and I haven’t told you the best one, the gift from your brother; that other Juana, the one who will fight for that which she believes is just or rightly hers. Now show me that Juana.’

  ‘Of course, that Juana. I swear this Spanish priest my mother has sent had better come as a friend and not an enemy, for that is when the other Juana will make her first appearance. Thank God you were here to remind me. How fortunate I was that day in Granada when they said you were to be mine.’

  ‘I am more fortunate. Who else would allow me to keep a Moor’s name rather than the one given me when I was made a Christian. I can retain my identity, and,’ she laughed, ‘I fear Blanca was not a good choice. But perhaps you have something far more important to thank God for?’

  ‘You are right.’ Juana gave her cheeks a final dab with her handkerchief then let her hands follow the increasing fullness of her belly. ‘I pray you will be a little boy, for Philip, and please be strong and healthy. Only three more months of waiting.’

  There was a tapping on the door and Maria entered with a servant carrying fruits and juices.

  ‘Brother Tomas has arrived.’

  ‘A few more minutes wait will do him no harm. I have to make sure that

  that other Juana is quite ready.

  Chapter 11

  Her coat cut in the French style, a long fitted coat reaching down to her hip
s, emphasised rather than disguised the stage of her pregnancy. She adjusted the crimson mantle about her shoulders and checked that her black hood with its border of gold and ruby flowers, last year's but of little consequence to a priest, was straight upon her head. She touched her mother's ruby at her throat, then pinched her cheeks to lend them colour. At last she was ready to meet Brother Tomas, her mother’s envoy, sent from Spain to discuss The Rumours.

  She stood by the hearth, decorated with sweet perfumed summer flowers, and watched the friar approach like an ominous black cloud heralding a storm.

  ‘Welcome to Brussels, Brother Tomas. I hope your stay here continues pleasant enough.’

  ‘Your royal highness. Good day. I thank you, I suppose it goes reasonably well,’ was the thin-lipped rancorous reply. ‘May I say that it is a joy to see you looking so well,’ he hurried on without altering his tone, ‘your family were most concerned lest you were not receiving the very best of care for this your first pregnancy. They are also most desirous to know that you are caring for yourself while you are carrying the child.’

  ‘And why should things be otherwise?’ Juana smarted at the implied criticism. ‘I can assure you that the doctors here are as good as any in Spain. Look at me Brother Tomas; do I not look better than most women who are with child?’

  ‘Yes, but on the other hand we have heard that you tended to be too often alone, and sometimes for days, not caring to be present in the court; this cannot be good for you or the child.’

  Maria and Zayda exchanged glances, what did this priest know or think he knew?

  ‘Gossip; gossip that gets exaggerated as it travels. It could only be the insensitive who do not realise that I have found mourning for my dearest brother very difficult without my family. So I withdraw; my letters and drawn curtains help me.’ It made her cross that she need explain her bereavement to, of all people, a priest.

  ‘And your quarrels with your husband, do they play some part in this?’

  ‘I cannot believe that my mother would not sympathise with me in this, my father’s fidelity being as reliable as Philip’s! My sisters and I heard many an argument, believe me,’ she was truly ready for battle.

  He was taken aback by her boldness so changed his tack, ‘Your spiritual welfare is equally, nay, more important.’

  Juana bristled, this meeting was decidedly not one of solicitude; it was, as she had suspected, a grilling like those conducted by a panel of priests sitting in judgement.

  ‘Ah, but we have got to the crux of the matter rather quickly, Brother Tomas,’ she challenged. ‘Do you have concerns for the safety of my soul? I understand there is malicious talk about me on that issue too. So, you are here to confess me because there are rumours that I have been remiss in my devotions, putting my soul in jeopardy and requiring your intercession. Perhaps I do not confess as often as I should, but my confessor is most understanding.’ She was quite proud of her courage; yes, she could and would stand her ground; and because she lived in Flanders she felt free of any fears of the Spanish Church.

  ‘Ma'am let me assure you I am not here as an Inquisitor.’ He attempted a fatherly smile. He would have liked to start this interview again; it was not going to plan; she was not, as he had envisaged, the contrite child and he the priest ready to be benevolent at the right moment.

  Juana was furious, ‘An Inquisitor no less! Things have come to a pretty pass that they send an Inquisitor. Brother Tomas, tell me what my dear family and countrymen say of me. Tell me of my bad reputation.’

  ‘The good name you enjoyed when you left Spain can never be lost by any idle words being said there.’

  ‘So it is true. They do gossip. What do they know about what happens here? How dare they presume to pass judgement!’ She heard her voice getting ever louder, perhaps too loud.

  He would be gentle. ‘It is their heartfelt love and care for you that causes people to question …’

  ‘For instance,’ she snapped.

  ‘For instance it has been brought to our attention that you and the archduke go beyond the church's rulings on procreation.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘A priest should not have to remind you that God only expects carnal knowledge for the purpose of procreation; beyond that it is wilful indulgence and a sin.’

  She laughed, ‘So, that is my crime; I enjoy the pleasures of the marital bed, and am not haunted by the spectre of a priest looking down on me and glowering in disapproval. Do not concern yourself, I have confessed it. I have been absolved of my sin. I have done my penance.’

  Her audacity was too much for him; his eyes narrowed, his lips tightened, ‘You have not confessed to your Spanish chaplain. You choose instead to confess to dissolute French priests. This is not acceptable.’

  ‘Dissolute? Because they do not spend their entire lives buried behind their missals?’

  ‘Worse, because they are gluttons and drunkards and far too eager to participate in all worldly pleasures.’

  ‘What do you know?’ she flung at him. ‘Spanish priests have no tolerance, no understanding of the world beyond your Bibles and your masses. There is no compassion in your icy frames. It is little wonder that I choose to bare my soul to those who can listen with sympathy.’

  ‘I shall ignore your intemperate outburst. You are young and obviously still immature. But I do want you to consider this; surely it is better to confess to a priest of the Church who can give a good account of your soul to God, than to one who walks the streets of Paris visiting taverns. I know of a young Spanish priest, without a penny to his name, living in a nearby monastery. He is far better suited to listen to the problems of your soul. And at least your money would go to the monastery and not into drinking houses. I suggest you give this your most earnest attention. I shall return another day when you are of a better disposition then I shall confess you, or if you prefer you may confess to this younger priest.’

  ‘What makes you think that God will listen any differently to you or your kind. I have no need for any Spanish priest. You have neither heart nor …’

  He blazed at her, ‘You are the one without a heart. You are the cold one, callously neglecting your dear parents. Not one, let me repeat, not one letter have they received from you. You are the one who has no respect, no honour for the Church, indeed no reverence for God. I fear for you. You are in grave danger of eternal damnation. My letter to your mother will do nothing to lighten her already burdened heart. You should feel deep shame!’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like this!’

  ‘I dare, madam, because I have the authority of my sovereign lords, Isabel and Ferdinand.’

  ‘Get out! Get out! And never come back! Do you hear? You are a cruel old man!’ She ran after him, hurling abuse at the door he had slammed shut behind him. She leaned against this barricade protecting her from the brutal world. ‘Dear God, everywhere I turn I find hatred and lies. Am I then to have no one to love me?’

  ‘Philip loves you, you said so yourself,’ Zayda’s answer was immediate. ‘He always returns to you because he does love you, he is drawn to you. He is only unkind and hurtful because Chimay and Busleyden are clever at poisoning his mind. And I am always here.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘Ma’am you look quite pinched with the cold,’ Maria put down her sewing and drew a chair close to the fire for Juana, ‘this January snow and frost bite straight through to the bones.’

  ‘It was colder still in the church; how fortunate I had these,’ she waved her old fur-lined gloves before tossing them onto the cloak hastily dropped over a table in her eagerness to reach the welcoming hearth.

  As she warmed her hands she smiled down at the wooden cradle, its huge, solid bulk boldly decorated with the family coats of arms, so preposterously over-protective for so tiny a baby.

  The Lady Leonor, two months old, healthy and quite, quite beautiful was sleeping soundly.

  ‘Not a murmur since nurse brought her.’ They were both taking delight in the little f
ace as eyebrows knitted, nose twitched and lips smiled their way through dreams.

  Leonor had been a good baby ever since her arrival into this world; and she had done that without any fuss. Maria had been present at the confinement, restored to Juana’s court. Her dismissal had followed shortly after her chasing away the heckling Flemish courtiers. Chimay had demanded it. Juana, however, had thrown such tantrums in the later stages of her pregnancy that the doctors, fearing for the safety of the unborn child, persuaded Philip to insist on the reinstatement. Maria was now chief lady-in-waiting for the baby; apparently it was of scant interest to anyone who was in the baby girl's court.

  ‘Oh, Leonor, if only you were a boy.’

  ‘This is but your first of many babies; and you are most fortunate, childbearing is easy for you. All you did was to say the Hail Mary twice and there she was, born. The doctors just stood there with nothing to do.’

  ‘Unlike my sister, dying within the hour of the birth of hers,’ she gently turned back the white satin coverlet. ‘So, Leonor, you have lost an aunt but you do have a little boy cousin; Miguel. Finally there is a successor for the thrones of Spain. And you can be sure that grandmother, very relieved to have a boy heir, will see to it he is raised as a true Spaniard.’

  Zayda brought in a tray of silver jugs, the aromatic steam of the infusions inviting them to drink.

  ‘Brother Tomas is here ma'am.’

  ‘Then bid him come in. He too must be in some need of comforting heat.’

  A black habit and cape winged their way through the doorway, halted for a moment then rapidly brought their owner to the feet of Juana.

  ‘Your highness,’ the friar fell to his knees before her. He took her hands to kiss them. He had not seen her for some time and what he saw today was alarming. Juana looked ill, very ill. He prayed that she didn’t have the same wasting sickness that had robbed his sovereign lords of their eldest daughter Isabel. Juana was painfully thin, her face had a deathly pallor, her eyes were sunk and had a feverish stare, all the symptoms of the dreaded consumption; and dressed from head to toe in unadorned plain and faded black velvet did nothing to relieve the disturbing picture.