As of today she would no longer be a prisoner. She was leaving.
But there was still no sign of the horses. She hurried down the steps, summoned half a dozen of her guard and with grim determination set off over the drawbridge to walk down the hill the short distance to the town, intending to deal personally with those responsible for the delay.
She had not travelled far when she met Fonseca. Neither was happy to see the other.
‘Your highness, may I enquire as to why you have left the castle?’
‘I am on my way to the town to discover why the pack horses have not been sent. Everything is ready to go, and now this waiting. I cannot understand what can be amiss. Someone will be brought to task if there is not a good explanation. But we waste valuable time. Good day, my lord.’
‘Ma'am, you should not be going to the town alone.’
‘Then you shall accompany me.’
‘There is no need. The problem has been attended to. But we should not be standing here in the cold, let us return to the castle and I will explain.’ He led her back through the castle gateway.
Juana stopped, suspicious, ‘Tell me about the horses.’
‘Will you not go inside?’
‘I will not go another step. The horses!’
‘They are in Medina.’
‘Of course they are in Medina,’ she snapped, ‘that is why I was on my way there. Do not treat me like some fool.’
‘They will not be coming here. I have stopped them.’
‘How dare you. By what authority?’ She screamed, choking on her anger.
‘Queen Isabel has charged me with your safekeeping, and I am asking you to remain here.’
‘No,’ she howled, ‘how could my mother do this to me again? But I will have no more of it. You have asked me to remain. I have refused.’ Juana made to walk past him.
Fonseca stepped ahead of her, ‘Their majesties only seek to have you remain here a little while longer until they are able to come to bid you adieu.’
‘Hah! I beg you not to insult my intelligence. Move aside, I would pass.’
‘Lock the gates! Bring down the portcullis!’ Fonseca commanded.
The heavy slam of reinforced timber and the rattling of chains tore into her soul. She was listening to all her dreams, all her hopes, being crushed.
‘I have received orders that you will not stir from this place until their majesties give their permission. You are not allowed to visit the town, nor are you to even consider travelling. They would remind you that it would be highly dangerous for you to travel without a permit. I am to take all necessary precautions to prevent you taking any action against their will.’
‘You villain! You foul despicable villain! I thought you were my friend. You have gone behind my back to reveal all my plans and then you have schemed against me. And now you imprison me. I trusted you and you betrayed me. Now I have no hope.’ She spat on the ground by his feet. ‘You are not worthy of the robes you wear. Let me tell you that when I am queen I shall see that your deeds are justly rewarded. Before I do anything else I shall have you hanged. Unlike most people about me, I keep my promises, Fonseca. I hate you! I will have your vile tongue cut out!’
He had bowed and hurried through the postilion’s gate, issuing urgent orders on the way. He was gone some time before Juana realised how abusive she had been to the very person she had insisted would always remain at her side when she became queen.
She raised her skirts and ran up the steps to the battlements, calling down to him, ‘My lord bishop, please come back, I did not mean those words, I am so sorry.’
‘No, I think it is best that I inform Queen Isabel of the situation. She will advise me what is to be done.’
Juana came down unsteadily, sick with apprehension, ‘I only want to go to my Philip.’
For the remainder of the day and throughout the night she wandered the narrow path that ran alongside the wall, drowning in her unhappiness. Maids came and went unheeded, guards were changed unnoticed, offers of extra cloaks were ignored.
At some time the following morning she heard a voice addressing her.
‘Two visitors, your majesty.’
Juana looked up, instantly brightening, there might yet be hope, ‘My lord archbishop Cisneros and my dear uncle; please forgive this less than hospitable reception but as you see I am expecting to leave at any moment.’
‘So we had heard, ma'am, but would it not be more comfortable indoors?’
‘You are right,’ she invited them to follow her. They scented an easy victory.
‘Juana, these are but the kitchens. We thought to go to your apartments,’ Don Fadrique whispered. ‘Uncle, this is good enough for me. I shall do my waiting outside and my eating and drinking here until it is time to go.’
‘Juana I am come from the queen to beg you for the good of your health to return to your apartments. You must take more care of your person so that when spring comes you will be well enough to travel.’
‘Why did I imagine you came with good news? My mother talks of spring, does she? She intends me to stay here forever, I know it. You are sent here bearing a pack of lies. Uncle, all I want is my Philip, why will she not let me go to him? Why does she torture me so?’
‘Juana, dear child, of course you want your prince and you shall go to him; eventually. You must remember that you are no ordinary lady seeking to return to her husband and children; caution is called for in all the actions that you and we undertake. Let us look at the situation carefully.’
Over the next hour or so Don Fadrique sought to encourage her to accept that the advice he offered came from the great love he had for her. It pained him to see her so desperately unhappy. Cisneros looked on, avoiding all comment.
Juana brought the interview to an end. She was resolute, her determination like iron, ‘Go back to my mother and tell her that I am not going to listen to any more lectures from any of her messengers. Inform her of my intention to return to Flanders. You have been at pains to emphasise my need for her permission to leave, so you may report that I will give her no peace until I have it. Tell her I will wait for it, for as long as it takes, at the castle gate. Farewell, may God speed your journey.’
She led them to the gate and as they left she took up her position at one of the guards' lookout posts that they should see she was in earnest. She held fast to the bars and stared out in what she thought must be the direction of Flanders.
She would not be moved. Guards brought her a brazier to lend some warmth and someone placed a fur cloak over her shoulders.
She remained at her post for five bitterly cold days and nights resting only rarely in the guardroom. On the sixth day her mother's baggage train arrived. Juana sent it back to the town stating emphatically that no one could possibly stay at the castle when everything was packed to go.
Later, when the litter bearing her mother entered the outer bailey Juana did not move, she ignored its presence gazing determinedly out across the countryside. Isabel hobbled her painful way to her side, but Juana did not turn to greet her mother.
Isabel was ill; her failing health further impaired by this unwanted journey. She had dragged herself from her sickbed to come to try once more to reason with her daughter.
‘Juana, come with me that we might talk,’ she summoned quietly.
‘No. I will not take one step away from Flanders.’
‘This is quite absurd. I have come to explain the reasons for the many delays, understandably disappointing, and how we intend to organise your journey.’ The voice was tired and laboured.
‘I will not be tricked again. Say what you have to say right here,’ Juana answered still looking into the distance.
‘I will not be spoken to in this way, nor do I intend to take any orders from you. I shall await you in the guardroom. I will give you a few moments but if after that time you have not joined me I shall assume you do not wish to hear what I have to say and I shall leave.’
Juana reluctantly
joined her. She remained in the doorway suspicious, obstinate.
Isabel looked at this dishevelled and unkempt creature with its dirty, tearstained face. This was her daughter; this was the heiress of all Spain.
‘I am ready to hear your reasons for keeping Philip and me apart.’ Juana flung the words at her mother.
‘We never sought to …’
‘Lies, all lies,’ she snapped, ‘so why am I not allowed to leave? Why did you order Fonseca to have me held here?’
‘To shield you from the inevitable shame you would have brought on yourself, demonstrating to the world your singular lack of respect for us and our country.’
‘There is precious little respect for me, making me look foolish with the gates locked and me in the midst of my baggage with nowhere to go.’
‘Do not interrupt. We have to be sure that the peace treaties are acceptable to all parties.’
‘I am surprised you can keep track of them, changing them as often as you do. And who is to say you will not break them? You did before, betraying my Philip when the ink was barely dry on the peace treaty he had negotiated for you with France. He was seriously ill for weeks. You are keeping me hostage to prevent his making any fresh alliances or treaties with France; I know it.’
‘Juana, listen to me.’ Isabel fought for breath. ‘I had hoped that during this period of waiting you might come to see your role in a different light.’
‘Now we come to the crux of the matter. You do intend me to remain here. You want me to rule Spain while Philip rules his lands. You do not want us ever to be together again. Allow me to tell you that I am not interested in ruling any country. My only desire is to return to my husband.’ She brought out a folded paper from her bodice, ‘Read it, read that part there where he tells me how much he wants me, how much he needs me.’
‘Juana, I do not need to read his letter. I am sure he wants you by him. He certainly does not want you here on your own when my death cannot be too far away. That letter is the result of the advice of his counsellors, who have pointed out the danger of your being crowned in his absence, and with your baby son Ferdinand as heir.’
‘How dare you try to besmirch Philip's letter. Do you see nothing beyond crowns? Do you never see people with feelings; or is that too much to expect?’
‘Your father and I have fought hard to build this nation. It was God's will to take Juan, our beautiful son, who would have been its king. So too did God decide to take darling Isabel and the tiny Miguel. It has fallen to you, Juana, to be the guardian of these lands, and it is breaking my heart to think that they might become nothing more than an appendage of Austria because you do not care enough to protect them. Oh, Juana, I would be lying were I to say I had not prayed constantly for you to realise where your duties lie.’
‘Stop it. Stop it. You do not care about me, or my feelings; you are obsessed with your Spain. I give you one last opportunity to prove that you have a heart inside that calculating body of yours. Here is a letter from my little Charles; I want my mother to come home, because my father is very lonely without her. The Princesses Leonor and Isabel, my sisters, send a thousand kisses to their dearest mama.’
‘I am already aware of this letter Juana. Child, I thought you had more sense than to be so easily fooled. Do you not see the hand of the schemer in this? It ends …
please forgive the discourtesy of not writing this myself . These are the tender bleatings of a four year old? Do not delude yourself; these are the evil machinations of your beloved Philip and his counsellors.’
Juana moved towards her mother as if to strike her, screaming, ‘I hate you!’
Isabel stood and looked deep into Juana's eyes, ‘Were it not for your state of mind I would not have tolerated the way you have spoken to me today. Your father will soon be joining me then all the necessary arrangements will be made for your journey to Flanders. The infant Ferdinand will remain with us.’
‘Another of your schemes? To have him inherit?’
‘Enough, Juana, I am tired of this. I have brought Zayda with me. She will prepare a perfumed bath for you and get rid of those stinking clothes. She might just be able to make you look and smell like a princess even though you are unable to behave like one.’
Chapter 20
Juana passed from the sun-drenched gardens, through the orangery, and into an unfamiliar corridor.
‘This way, my lady?’
‘Why not, Maria?’ Juana replied not caring where her steps took her. She was in a world of bliss, a never ending bliss, and had been since her return to Brussels in May.
In her year’s absence Philip had apparently forgotten her beauty and vivacity and he was completely intoxicated by her loveliness. He called her his “young bride” and “my Juana”. Her wonderful, god-like husband loved her. Their days were a euphoria of romantic chivalry. There were tournaments, with Philip wearing her yellow and green favours, and always unseating the opposing rider. The banquets and balls were better than any she could remember. And their nights together were of unrivalled passion and ecstasy.
She froze. ‘Go!’ she whispered her command. She had heard voices. A sickening suspicion raced through her; an ice cold, searing hot suspicion of something she didn’t want to put a name to.
As soon as she was alone she tiptoed forward and listened again leaning in the direction of a nearby door. It was Philip’s voice. She moved closer her head resting against the panelling.
‘Reasons of state insist that I be with her, your uncle must have explained. But Beatrice, my darling Beatrice, I have still been such a fool to neglect you so cruelly. Please say that I am forgiven.’
‘I forgive you, my lord.’
‘Not “my lord”; say “I forgive you, Philip”.’
‘I forgive you, Philip.’
Juana covered her ears and turned away to escape the stinging treachery of words that belonged to her, words spoken when she and Philip first met. She should have left but it was impossible. Nor could she throw open the door to put an end to this infamy. She was driven by something, compelled, to hear more.
‘… tomorrow night, most definitely. And by that time I will know of the final arrangements for our week’s hunting and where we shall stay.’
‘Do you promise?’
‘My word of honour. Dear God, if only we had met years ago, how different our lives would have been.’
‘It is silly to look to the past, Philip, to what cannot be changed. Instead, let us be grateful to my Uncle Charles, Prince Chimay for bringing me here when he did.’
There was a silence. There was no doubting they were in each other’s arms. Juana crumpled against the wall. This was Chimay’s niece! Why had she been sent for? By whom? When? How many knew of this, and for how long? Why had no one told her? What was she to do? She felt sick; her world, that gloriously happy world, had crashed, irreparably broken.
Somehow she pushed herself free from the wall. Trance-like she moved back along the corridor Philip’s teasing voice echoing in her ears, his rich laughing voice speaking of a love note he would hide somewhere in the garden for “beloved Beatrice”.
An iron will carried Juana past courtiers and their hurtful gossip all the way back to her apartments where she collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
Zayda rushed to her side. ‘My lady, whatever can have happened?’
‘Ask Maria,’ Juana sobbed.
Maria said nothing.
‘Tell her, Maria, you must know, probably have known for some time.’ Juana continued, rocking backwards and forwards in her grief.
‘I was unsure. It was best for me to say nothing when I was uncertain; and I was warned not to.’
‘By whom?’
‘Madam Halewyn.’
So it was Halewyn as well as Chimay. Who else was in this conspiracy? ‘And you would follow her instructions to further betray me?’
‘My lady I humbly beg your pardon, she assured me it was nothing, that the affair would be over soon enough, that it w
ould do you more harm than good to hear of it.’
‘The liar, this is no affair! Philip is in love; he loves her, prefers her to me! I heard him say so!’ Juana howled.
‘No, no, no, my lady, this cannot be. I am so sorry.’
‘Who is she?’
‘A widowed baroness. Chimay brought her here to recover from her husband’s death some months ago.’
‘And Philip wrote to me begging me to return. He said he missed me, wanted me. Lies, all lies! My mother was right; it was the heiress of Spain he wanted to return to Flanders, not his wife. While I quarrelled so bitterly with my mother he was in the arms of Chimay’s niece. What am I to do, Zayda? I am lost.’
‘Never!’ Zayda knelt down by her side and took her hands. ‘You are not lost. You and I will find a way to win this battle. Remember your brother’s words about Juana the fighter.’
‘They cannot work this time.’
‘They have not failed you yet. And I have many ways of helping.’
‘I must be in the garden tomorrow. I have to be there, there will be a letter.’
‘Of that later, my lady. First you must sleep and gather your strength for the challenge that awaits you. I have the necessary philtres and potions. I will go for them immediately.’ She shot a furious glance at Maria before leaving. ‘It is barbarous that anyone, anyone at all, should dare insult the Princess Juana like this.’
There was enough sun to make sitting outdoors quite comfortable, while the shadows from the trees and bushes in the arbour protected Juana and Maria from its rays.
Juana broke the silence, ‘No more sewing today, my fingers are too unsteady.’ She took a final look at her embroidery. It was Philip’s motto with her romantic response QUI VOULDRA
– MOI TOUT SEUL. A bitter laugh escaped her, ‘“Who wants me - only me”. How wonderful if that were true.’
She rose from the bench and brushed her sleeves. Maria returned the sewing to its basket before seeking out stray strands from amongst the patterns of Juana’s brocade skirts.
‘A short stroll, ma’am?’ They wandered along the pathway edged with box, a row of white roses beyond. Juana drew their velvet petals towards her to drink in their perfume. ‘The white rose of York. The old witch finally died. Madam la Grande is one less to mock or whisper against me.’
Juana la Loca Page 12