Juana la Loca

by Linda Carlino

  ‘Brother Tomas are you not to get up?’

  Exaggerating his difficulty, he rose, a hand comforting his knee. ‘It is the cold,’ he moaned, ‘making my bones feel much older than they are. My lodgings do not offer much comfort either, fuel here is so expensive and I cannot afford the luxury of …’

  ‘Then do warm yourself by the fire. Zayda, we will have our hot drinks.’

  They were poured and offered, the priest’s cold fingers eagerly clasping the warm goblet. The swaddled Leonor was lifted from the cradle to be presented. He gazed at the tiny face, so peaceful in its slumber, a picture of perfect innocence in this oh so sinful Flemish land. He blessed her, she rewarding him by opening her beautiful blue eyes, her father’s eyes.

  ‘You are indeed fortunate.’

  ‘Not fortunate enough, Brother Tomas, Philip is sorely disappointed. The child is not a boy.’

  ‘You will have others. Do not distress yourself. At this moment you need only think about regaining your strength. God in His mercy will keep you and guard you.’ He made the sign of the cross and smiled his blessing, rejoicing once again at his success at having made Juana accept the full guilt of her disobedience both to the Church and to her parents. ‘It has given us all great joy to have you back in our Spanish Mother Church. Why, my lady; it was not my intent to make you weep.’

  ‘These days I spend much of my time in tears. You welcome me back and I do believe my return pleases God, but it does not please Philip. He says I am betraying him when I confess to Spanish priests, telling them things that could be secrets. I have been made to suffer many harsh accusations. He distrusts you and says it is becoming too difficult to trust me. And I love him so much!’ She sobbed, reaching out to him for comfort; to the priest who but a few months ago she had considered an enemy. ‘And then the days spent with my mother come flooding back and I think that I will never hear her voice again, never see her, unable to tell her that I am sorry for causing her such unhappiness because of my selfish words and deeds.’

  ‘Hush, sweet child. Do not torment yourself so,’ Brother Tomas congratulated himself once more for getting this stubborn child to recognise her sins and to beg forgiveness. ‘If you wish we shall sit together quietly for a while. Later, if you would care to talk I am here to listen.’ He set down his drink to take her hands in his as she wept.

  Her problems were well known to him, he had not been standing idly by since his arrival; quite the opposite. He had been very busy gathering news, items of gossip, anything, from anyone prepared to talk. Evidently the gulf separating her from her family and those who had been her friends seemed to her to be growing ever wider. That and the apparent increasing hurts and threats she was made to suffer often pushed her into periods of black despair.

  He had also discovered that her handsome, dashing husband, so expert in sport and hunting, showed himself a mere child in the hands of those seeking to advance their own interests. He had foolishly signed a peace treaty with the new king of France swearing his lifelong homage. King Louis joked about Philip being more French than any Burgundy wine; but the truth was that this treaty was an insult to Spain.

  There was also talk of Philip insisting that his favourite, his old tutor, Busleyden, a Francophile and arch enemy of Spain, be made a Spanish bishop. That avaricious power-seeker wanted a base there. Brother Tomas was disappointed that Juana was never allowed to become involved in any matters of state because that ruled her out as a source of information.

  She interrupted his thoughts, ‘And there is no money, and I am to lose even more of my Spanish ladies. Chimay gives me only a meagre pittance.’

  Brother Tomas nodded his head. Juana and her court’s privations at the hands of the Flems had become notorious throughout Europe. King Henry of England was well aware of the situation and had given him a purse of gold towards his upkeep knowing full well he would get nothing from Philip. He was continuing to nurse the coins through the winter months providing himself with nothing more than bare essentials.

  Juana brushed at the tear drops on her drab skirts, ‘I am reduced to wearing old dresses, and never have any money of my own, not even a coin to give to the poor.’

  Brother Tomas continued stroking the hand of this poor child at the mercy of the powerful in a dangerous and uncaring world; this young woman, a victim of her passion, so desperately seeking love. He, with his reputation for whining and whingeing about the smallest inconvenience, was almost humbled. It would be with mixed emotions that he would soon be saying his last farewells before returning to Spain.

  The doors were flung open and in strode Chimay pulling his fur-lined gown across his huge belly. Next came Madam Halewyn as white and as cold as the weather. Last, but not least, the obsequious Spaniard Moxica crept in, hunched over with one hand wrapped about the other. There had been no announcement, no courtesies. They moved directly across the room to prepare a table with pens, ink and sand.

  Moxica, his hands impatiently tapping the back of the waiting chair, summoned Juana. ‘We have brought these for your signature.’

  Juana moved mechanically, head bowed, to the table. She began to read the paper before her, but Moxica’s hand came down flat over the words while the ringed fingers of his other hand pointed to the waiting space. ‘Sign here.’

  Each paper was placed before her and she signed. They were dried and passed to Chimay.

  She swallowed hard before making her one request. ‘My mother has sent me one thousand escudos, knowing I am in desperate need. I would like to have them now.’

  ‘No doubt you would, but there are greater needs,’ Chimay replied not even raising his eyes from the last document.

  ‘But I have signed four thousand over to you already, and besides, this money is meant for me, for my sole use, you cannot keep it.’

  ‘That is how things are.’

  ‘I thought I might have it in lieu of the grant you have so cruelly withheld from my baby daughter,’ she whimpered, her voice barely audible.

  They ignored her; but before leaving they did remind her that she had still not written to her parents on that matter of the Spanish bishopric for Busleyden. They were gone as swiftly as they had arrived.

  ‘Next time Brother Tomas I shall refuse to sign away any more of my money,’ her voice lacked all conviction for

  that other Juana was not to be found. ‘I shall tell them I want to know who is getting all my money, and why. I truly will.’ Chapter 13

  ‘Come along, come along,’ Philip called over his shoulder dashing into the room and silencing the music. Juana calmed the rushing storm of desire always awakened by his presence. She handed her vihuela to one of her musicians to return it to its red velvet case, and in a satiny swish of white and gold she hurried to her beloved, her radiant smile of welcome glowing warmer than the August sun that had sent her and her ladies indoors.

  ‘My Juana, my dearest heart, such news!’ He took her hands, kissing her fingers greedily, noisily. ‘Oh where has the man got to?’

  A gauche young man slowly stepped into the doorway, embarrassed by his dusty malodorous clothes, nervously turning his hat in sweaty hands, shuffling his feet in discomfort and wishing he were anywhere but here.

  ‘This gentleman has brought us wonderful news, my love. Wine for everyone, a celebration is in order. And give this poor, choking devil something for his parched throat.’

  He held Juana close covering her face with kisses. This was the Philip of her bedchamber; he had not caressed her publicly like this since the first days of their marriage. It was delightful, if puzzling.

  This year, 1500, was so splendidly different for Juana. The pain of separation from her family had disappeared; so too had the cowering and flinching from the hurts of Philip and his vicious courtiers. Those weeks spent withdrawn in her darkened room not caring to wash or bathe or change her linen and refusing to eat, were something of the past. She was deliriously happy.

  Yes, a new life had dawned with the new century for she h
ad given Philip his longed-for son. Favour had been found by providing a male heir, better still, a robust male heir. They had a son; Charles, Duke of Luxembourg. He was born in February, his hasty arrival interrupting her dancing at the St. Mathias Ball. Only one warning pain and there had been barely enough time to flee the ballroom, red brocade skirts raised above feet frantically hurrying, finding privacy in her nearby withdrawal room, before he launched himself into the world. Oh, how Philip had joked with her about the impatience of this little warrior prince.

  Her husband was now so tender and affectionate. It was she he loved and not those temptress whores of the court with their long blond curls. They were but playthings of the past.

  Margaret was with her again, for a little while at least, before leaving for Savoy and her forthcoming marriage, and they had quickly resumed their shared pleasures and diversions.

  Juana's happiness was complete. Yet Philip had said there was indeed more to add to her bounteous cup of blessings. The kisses were repeated; on her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. Curious courtiers brought here by quickly spreading rumours appeared in twos and threes.

  ‘I propose a toast to Archduchess Juana, Princess of Castile, the Princess of Asturias and heiress to the thrones of Spain.’ He raised his cup and sipped just a little wine, not caring for its bitter taste. The toast was echoed by everyone.

  ‘My lord,’ she urged him, whispering, ‘I beg you not to … please, not that again.’

  For months now Philip had been telling everyone that Queen Isabel’s grandson, Miguel, was dead and that Juana was to inherit.

  ‘Philip, my lord, do not continue with …’ This was embarrassing.

  He hushed her, his finger resting on her lips. ‘My Princess of Asturias, successor to the thrones of Castile and Aragón,’ he insisted, turning to the dishevelled traveller at the door. ‘This fellow has brought us the news direct from Granada. Here, what does it say in the letter? …

  Miguel died on the twentieth of July. There is no doubt my pet. We are the Prince and Princess of Asturias, heirs to all those lands presently your mother's and, because of our darling son, heirs to all that belongs to your father.’

  She gripped the stem of her glass. Not one drop of wine had passed her lips yet she was heady, dizzy. She was in ecstasy. Any sadness for the dead child drifted over her like a brief summer's cloud. Miguel not two years old was dead; making her free. His death was her liberation. She could leave this foul place, taking her beloved Philip with her to Spain where her handsome prince would be welcomed and loved. Oh, there would be such wonderful changes to their lives.

  She reached for the letter, hungrily searching for those so important words. The writer had once been her carver, a trustworthy servant, and presently employed as their informant in the royal court in Spain. There was no doubting his words.

  ‘It is good news, is it not, my dear heart?’ Philip’s hands were on her waist drawing her tight against him.

  ‘The very best of news, indeed it is wondrous news. I could not have wished for better,’ and she threw her arms about him spilling her wine in her reckless joy. ‘But remember, this is not an official document. We must wait for that before we make public our plans for the journey. There will be so much to organise. Where shall I start: what to wear, who to take with me, what to take with me? Oh, Spain, here we come! Just listen to me,’ she giggled.

  She could not resist glancing at some amongst the gathering and savouring the thought that their days were now numbered, especially Moxica, Chimay and Halewyn. It would not be too long before she chose her own household and had people about her that she could trust; who would carry out her orders.

  Philip was drawn from her side by Busleyden and some other senior ministers. She saw worry writ large on their faces, and secretly rejoiced that they, too, would have no place in Spain; and she twirled, laughing, an unrestrained child finally stumbling against Philip.

  ‘I beg your pardon, it must be the wine. This is all too wonderful, am I truly awake?’ She stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

  ‘It is more than wonderful,’ he said planting a kiss on the tip of her nose, ‘but my ministers say there is much to discuss and they are determined to tear me away from you this very minute. We shall continue our rejoicing later, privately, I promise you. May God give me patience till then.’

  His mouth was on hers, a promise of much more to come. She was still in a high state of elation when Fuensalida, a Spanish envoy, was announced.

  ‘Greetings, your majesty. May I say how well you look.’

  Fuensalida was more than surprised. He had expected her to look ill, miserable, sour, and meanly dressed. Instead he saw before him a radiant young woman; splendid, both in her bearing and attire.

  ‘I feel admirably well. God and the world are being most kind to me these days. You have seen my little ones, the Duke Charles and the Lady Leonor?’

  ‘God has granted you two beautiful children.’

  ‘God has indeed been most benevolent. But your news is good sir?’

  ‘Your sister Maria is to marry King Emanuel of Portugal this year, the final depositions have been made.’

  ‘He is most fortunate, Maria will make him a good wife,’ she recalled the “philosophical” young girl of that evening four years ago when they had all sat at their mother’s feet. ‘And Catalina?’

  ‘That has been rather more difficult, but at last that is also concluded. So much time was lost as I chased back and forth in pursuit of King Henry to finalise the contracts, forever arriving in the town that he had just left. Yes, Catalina will marry the Prince of Wales next year.’

  She remembered how, on that very same evening, Catalina had posed as Catalina the Princess of Wales. ‘I hope she will find everyone pretty and happy in England.’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Those were the wishes of Catalina when she was ten years old. And how is my mother the queen?’

  ‘As well as can be expected, she has not enjoyed good health since the death of your sister. And because she is plagued by the possibility of yet further tragedies lying in wait she has been loath to part with Catalina. Fortune has indeed dealt Queen Isabel more than her share of bitter sorrows.’

  ‘May both my sisters have long, happy and fruitful marriages,’ Juana would not be involved with tales of woe.

  ‘Amen to that. I understand by all accounts that the christening of the Duke Charles was a spectacular occasion.’

  ‘Quite breathtaking. You cannot begin to imagine the splendour of it all. Philip and I watched the procession from the balcony. Charles was carried by his great-grandmother.’ Juana pulled a face, ‘The ancient Margaret of York, Madam la Grande, still lives. The news of Catalina and Arthur will infuriate her. You have no idea of the extent of her hatred of the Tudors! But see here, my gift from Philip,’ she touched the huge tear-shaped pearl at her neck, ‘and you are not to be superstitious! Pearls, whether they look like tears or not, do not always mean sorrow or no one would wear them, would they? But I cannot wait any longer, I must speak with you,’ she drew him aside. ‘I have heard that Miguel is dead.’

  Fuensalida was taken aback. ‘Ma'am, I had thought I was to be the bearer of these sad tidings and was waiting for a more appropriate moment, until after we had exchanged happier news. Who told you?’

  ‘There are more ways than one for news to travel. I mean no disrespect to baby Miguel or my mother but his death is a blessing from God upon me and I humbly and gratefully thank Him for it.’

  Perhaps the reports reaching Spain of an abused Juana had not lied. He must make discreet enquiries. ‘The queen will be sending instructions. She wishes you meanwhile to become involved in the running of your household and to show more active interest in government in readiness for the weightier burdens that one day will rest upon your shoulders.’

  ‘They believe in Spain that I have no interest in either. There is far too much gossip! The truth is my views are blatantly ignored. I am kept apart from any discussions or
decision making. But when we are in Spain it will be completely different, of that my mother may rest assured. I, with Philip’s support, will dedicate myself to continuing my parents' work. But I am not of a mood for such matters today. Tomorrow, perhaps.’

  Juana dismissed him and the possibility of any serious discussions with a charming nod.

  Philip and his counsellors almost collided with the departing priest.

  ‘Another Spanish priest in our midst? No matter.’

  ‘He is the bearer of the glad tidings,’ she clapped her hands. ‘But you are returned so soon. I thought these people would detain you for some while.’

  ‘Tut-tut, “these people”, Juana really you must not … No, it took little time to bring my feet back to the earth. It will take longer to prepare for our departure than I anticipated. There are insufficient funds in the treasury so I must visit my states to raise more. I will also have to ask for financial help from Spain. But, it still means that we are talking about months of organisation by which time it will be winter and the weather will be far too treacherous to attempt a sea journey.’

  Juana’s lower lip quivered in bitter disappointment. She blamed Philip’s counsellors for this situation; they had never shown any restraint, allowing the profligate squandering of money. ‘Are you saying that it will be next summer, a whole year before we leave?’

  He laughed, cupping her face in his hands. ‘I tease, because my counsellors have the solution. We will travel by land, my sweet. We will go via France.’ He continued with increasing enthusiasm, ‘Do not forget that King Louis is my friend, and I am his liegeman. And, listen to this, to seal this bond of friendship my counsellors advise that we offer our son Charles in marriage to his daughter Claudia. An excellent move!’

  She could not believe what she was hearing. Not only had he failed to take a stand against France, which was a part of their own marriage treaty, he was now seeking ties with that country which were too outrageous to contemplate. Their son Charles would inherit all the states belonging to Philip, would one day inherit Austria and the Holy Roman Empire from Maximilian, and all the Spanish lands would eventually be his too. Incredibly Philip was seriously suggesting a marriage alliance between Charles and the daughter of the king of France. In one step he was offering most of Europe to Louis on a platter; and France was supposed to be isolated, denied the opportunities of extending her power.