They exchanged smiles.
‘Now you must meet my family.’
Prince Henry, a handsome, elegant youth clad in scarlet was introduced. He was tall, much taller than his father and only fourteen years old. This was Henry, Prince of Wales, the future husband of her sister Catalina.
Next to him was his sister, Princess Mary, ten years old, and beside her … how her heart leapt as Henry introduced her as Catherine, Princess of Wales. Just to hear her name gladdened her. Catalina; her little twelve year old sister was now a woman of twenty-one, with an English name; Catherine.
They hugged then looked at one another crying tears of joy; two sisters dressed in black, holding hands, reminded for a moment of happier times before there were any tragedies, rough justice, and maltreatment.
Last of all there was Philip. Juana gave him but a hint of a curtsey. He bowed nursing his displeasure at seeing her.
The following evening Philip ushered her through a side door into a room of dark oak and grey stone walls covered with shields and banners.
Henry was taken aback when they were announced, ‘Is this meeting to be a secret?’
‘Probably only so far as certain Flemish counsellors are concerned I would suggest,’ Juana replied. ‘But that story would take too long to tell.’
He led her to a large table littered with documents. Her name was added to several agreements drawn up and signed by Henry and Philip while she was “indisposed” at the home of Lord Mountjoy. As she wrote Yo, la reina, Juana she could feel Philip’s irritation that Henry had insisted on her signature.
To her the papers were of no great importance. The first two were marriage treaties: their son Charles was now offered as husband to Henry’s daughter Mary (the contract with Princess Claudia of France now abrogated); Philip’s recently widowed sister Margaret as bride for King Henry. As anyone knew treaties of this nature were usually broken at some point or other, that of Charles being a prime example, and no doubt these would suffer the same fate. The other agreements were mostly to do with trade and their only interest for Juana lay in the aggravation it caused Philip. But there was one not requiring her signature which did give her some degree of pleasure. Philip was surrendering to Henry a pretender to the English throne; somebody or other belonging to the house of York who Madam la Grande had apparently been sheltering and grooming for years, and who, since her death had remained in Flanders. This would be a wonderfully bitter blow to Juan Manuel after all those earnest words with Philip on board the Juliana.
And that evening they celebrated with a grand banquet in the great hall. The royal green and white Tudor livery dominated the magnificence of the tapestries and wall hangings. The silver and gold dishes gleamed their brilliance on the whitest of damask tablecloths covering the long tables set out on three sides of the room. The hundred guests in their various coloured robes added further to the splendour. The minstrels in the gallery filled the air with a majestic fanfare.
King Henry led Juana on his arm, enjoying the moment. This was the first time since the death of his wife that he had had the opportunity to escort a lady, and such a lovely lady too. Juana was an excited mixture of pride for the recognition of her status and the sheer delight of being in Henry’s company.
During the meal she was given the honour of granting approval to each dish as it was ceremoniously presented before being carried to the serving boards: chicken pasties, venison in orange sauce, roast pork in spiced wine, and huge meat pies with pastry cases in the form of birds or animals. Subtleties were carried in, some borne aloft, as table cloths were changed between courses. And finally the desserts: the pastries, fruits, almond lumbarde, pine nut candy and marzipan; all crafted as castles, lions, eagles. Best of all was the one resembling their own ship, the Juliana.
She clapped her hands with joy and was starting to thank Henry, when Philip’s voice could be heard rising above the music and all the other conversations. He was telling such a tale of his heroism throughout those terrible storms at sea. His listener, the young prince, was sitting wide-eyed and open-mouthed in awe and wonder.
Henry laid his hand on hers whispering, ‘I must admit that it is a most interesting tale, that of the Juliana; I do like the way it improves with each telling.’
Dancing followed but Juana declined all requests, preferring to watch, occasioning Henry to ask if she was perhaps still a little unwell. She explained that there were times when she found the crush and noise of large gatherings overpowering, but that she was more than happy to watch others.
She remarked how well Catalina and Mary danced together.
Henry answered, ‘True, but wait until you see Mary dance with her brother, they make an extremely fine pair.’
Mary asked her brother Henry to dance with her in the very next dance, and Catalina approached Philip to invite him to partner her.
He looked icily at Catalina and answered, ‘What you see before you ma'am is a simple sailor. What makes you think a humble man of the sea would know anything of dancing?’ And he had walked away leaving her sister standing alone; embarrassed.
Henry had also witnessed the rebuff and urged her, ‘Do go to Catherine.’
Juana and Catalina were at last together. ‘Look at us, two sad looking crows amongst the gay songbirds.’
Catalina replied, ‘At least you have chosen to wear black, I wear it because it is the most serviceable colour. This is my only good dress, and it has cost me several bracelets. You see, King Henry has stopped my allowance. I used to get one hundred crowns a week but now I receive nothing. I am reduced to selling my silver plate to pay for my small household.’
Juana sighed and shook her head. ‘And yet Henry is so kind. I know of many instances of his generosity, he even gave brother Tomas money when he travelled to Flanders.’
‘Since the death of Arthur it is as if I am a nobody. Henry and our father argue continually about my unpaid dowry. And now father never answers my letters.’
‘The first thing I shall do when I get to Spain is to speak with father to arrange for whatever is outstanding to be sent immediately, I promise. And should there be any delay I will personally arrange some help for you. Oh, Catalina, how things have changed since that evening in mother’s apartments when your view of a grown-up’s world was all “prettiness”.’
‘I shall be forever grateful. But tell me of yourself. I think you should know there have been many unkind stories about you.’
‘There is nothing you could say that would surprise me. The stories are not only unkind but untrue. The problem for my enemies is that I am a survivor. I admit that sometimes I have to resort to strategies frowned upon, usually passive resistance but on occasions, shall we say I become more actively involved.’
‘The gossip which excited people the most was with regard to your bathing.’
‘My refusal to bath certainly was a part of my campaign, but
…’‘Lord, no, the English were disgusted by the frequency of them. You may not know, but in this country bathing is actively discouraged. They say it weakens a person’s whole system.’
They burst into laughter at the absurdity of the notion. Henry looked at them, his attention arrested by Juana’s radiant face; and his anger increased. Philip and his followers, especially Juan Manuel, were all liars; Juana was not the half-crazed creature they repeatedly referred to.
Juana was still laughing; remembering. ‘You may be too young to remember the time when mother refused to change her chemise until the Moors of Granada were defeated. Perhaps it was the smell that made them surrender!’
Catalina joined her in her laughter until Philip interrupted, ‘You seem to have plenty to laugh and talk about.’
‘Indeed we do,’ Juana answered. ‘I would invite you to join us, but your manners are in sore need of education. In fact until you have learned how to behave towards a lady I think it best that you remove that blue velvet ribbon from your leg. Had King Henry realised that a real “humble sailor” could show
far more respect creating you apology.’
than you he may have thought twice about Knight of the Garter. My sister awaits an Chapter 27
Catalina and Juana stayed on at Windsor for a few more days then one bright Saturday morning they left, going their separate ways. Catalina travelled to Richmount, Juana to Lord Arundel’s home to be close to the reassembled fleet in nearby Falmouth.
It was now April, and Juana still awaited Philip’s arrival that they might be on their way. She was impatient to be with her father, with her own people. But not before she had made Philip aware that there were some things she was no longer prepared to tolerate. And she promised herself that she would not lose her argument by raising her voice; she would be dignified, reasoned. She had waited a month for this confrontation and would not have it ruined by losing her temper.
In the early hours of the evening she heard the horses. She and Maria were apparently absorbed in their reading. Juana’s book rested open on her lap; she would at least give the appearance of composure even if she did not feel it. When he stormed through the door complaining, as she knew he must, she would at least look calm riding the wave of anger until it was her turn to speak.
Predictably, he fumed his way towards her followed by friends as angry as himself. ‘Well, this time your father really has upset the apple cart. Gone and married the French king’s niece after all. Put himself in a sorry situation in Castile. Not many friends left there now, for sure; and he is very misguided if he thinks that he and Louis can do anything about it. If they start anything I have two thousand skilled soldiers with me and expert advisors …’ he spat out.
‘Philip, we will not comment on events we only know from a third party, or which may be purely speculation. I prefer to wait until we are in a position to assess the situation at first hand.’
‘Dear God,’ he scoffed, asking of Juan Manuel, ‘You hear the voice of wisdom?’
‘A gem of intellect and diplomacy as ever, my lord …’
Juana interrupted quietly, ignoring the insults, ‘I refuse to hear more of it. But I would speak on matters of more immediate importance which must be taken very seriously. These friends of yours, and that includes you Don Manuel, did right to press you with their concerns about your promises of titles and pots of gold. Their worries were justified; I shall not permit any more of Castile's wealth to pass into their hands. I would also warn you that plans to have me locked away …’ she continued to address them quietly, ‘yes, I have heard them all, would not be tolerated by my people. There is no one outside your own circle who believes a word any of you say, and to dare to repeat such treason will be punished accordingly.’
She closed her book, laid it down on the table at her side, rested her hands on the arms of her chair, and still speaking with measured tone she continued, ‘I also want you to know that I will not go anywhere near our fleet until those Flemish whores are returned to Flanders. It was unbecoming of you, my lord, to conspire to deceive me so. I had assumed, obviously incorrectly, that they had been dismissed before we left Flanders, yet you had merely found accommodation for them aboard other ships. How can my people have any confidence in a foreign sovereign who has proven by acts of falsehood that he is untrustworthy? Sir, they will see you as a cheat and a liar.’ Her chin was thrust forward, her head held high, her hazel eyes burning with indignation as she rose and approached her offending husband.
He had been caught completely off guard; he was supposed to be the accuser not the accused. He was about to thunder, to strike, then stopped. He dismissed everyone from the room.
‘This requires immediate attention,’ insisted Juan Manuel waving a large piece of paper in his direction.
‘And that is my intention. Patience, Manuel. Go.’
The document was left on a table. It was a promissory note for the two hundred thousand gold crowns borrowed from Henry to meet the expenses of their stay in England, for repairs to the ships, and to pay the wages of Philip’s soldiers. It required Juana’s signature as Queen of Castile. Until it was signed they would not be permitted to leave.
He approached her with a voice he knew would captivate. ‘Read this note Prince Henry has sent me. While you charmed the old Henry, I impressed the young one. See where it says … let me know of your returned health which with all my heart I desire … and here,
… I pray God give you, most high, most excellent and mighty prince, a good life and a long one … your humble cousin … If only my Juana would be so warm towards me. I received no word from you while I was ill.’ He brought his face down to hers, pressed his cheek against hers, ‘I know I have ignored you my dearest. Perhaps I have even been a little unkind to my darling. But these have been difficult days for me Juana; I have had much to concern me. King Henry is a cunning negotiator. I have been made to wait until the pretender Suffolk was safely landed from Flanders and handed over, as if Henry thought my word was not to be trusted. I think that was what made me unwell. I was also unwisely counselled to appear as a hard man, a man of iron. Henry was right; I should have shown you more consideration. I have been such a fool, but I shall make amends, my dear heart.’
Juana turned from wanting to be tricked offended me with great discourtesies at Windsor. You have kept me waiting here for a month. You lied to me about those women.’
He drew her towards him, ‘You are right, and I know I am unworthy of you, my precious one. But now I have had time to think and realise I am completely in the wrong. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I beg you to; I have been too long without you. Will you allow your prince …’ he murmured, kissing the words into her ears, around her mouth, unbuttoning her bodice, untying the ribbon at the neck of her chemise.
His hand slipped slowly under the yielding silk to caress her breast. His sensual mouth enclosed her lips.
Her body stirred; waking, aching for him.
him and returned to her chair, not by the voice she still loved, ‘You Chapter 28
A Castilian June sun flooded the inner patio of the castle giving a golden glow to the walls and the stone well at its centre. Its warmth suggested a morning of indolence and languor. Juana strolled under the arcade enjoying its shade and the heady perfume of jasmine.
Men’s voices put an end to the peace and silence. A snatched word or two sent her deeper into the shadows behind a tangle of dark green leaves and tiny white flowers cascading from the balcony above.
She could have stayed to greet them for she knew them well enough, they were her “guardians”; or she could have gone indoors, but she did neither. She pressed herself as close to the wall as she could; pulling the twisting, leaf-laden branches about her.
Benavente, the castle’s owner clapped his friend on the back, laughing, ‘A most impressive display, eh, Villena?’ He rested against the stone of the arcade.
‘And that is how you saw it?’
‘How else? All those German lancers? Hundreds of our own men in full armour? More than two thousand in all? That would put a halt to any plans of Ferdinand to rescue his daughter.’
Villena was sceptical, ‘That is probably nothing more than another of Juan Manuel’s stories.’
‘No matter,’ Benavente continued, ‘so, there we were hundreds of us, a magnificent display of power when along comes Ferdinand, all in black with a few followers, and him riding a mule, no less!’ He clapped his friend’s back even harder before wiping away his tears of laughter.
‘Ferdinand is beginning to appear to be the peacemaker,’ grumbled Villena, ‘and Philip a foreign youth with his foreign army come to invade. Support is beginning to drift away. And, by the way, I have yet to see a single ducat of the thousands Philip promised me for joining him. You?’
‘Nothing. Hopefully when Philip is crowned. Although I find it galling the way he has been very quick to reward his Flemish friends.’
‘God in heaven, I hate to be associated with them.’
‘We had to accept that when we switched our allegiance,’ Benavente shr
ugged.
‘And what about her?’ Villena motioned towards the gallery above.
‘No one will be interested. What has she done since she landed in this country? Nothing to show she should be queen. She will quietly fade into the background, disappear, be forgotten.’
Juana bit hard on her knuckles. Her passive resistance, shutting herself away, had played right into her enemies’ hands.
‘That was an embarrassment to everyone, that scene about the Flemish women!’
‘All that ranting and raving about Philip’s whores as she called them!’
‘Then there was the tantrum because no one would go into mourning for her mother. Good lord, we had done that already!’
‘All very pathetic really; unimaginable that an adult would go into a grand pout like a child,’ Villena added, ‘refusing to see anyone, listen to anyone – even from the other side of the door, and howling and throwing things.
‘And now she is not allowed out to play,’ laughed Benavente.
Juana wanted to shout that there was much more to those stories than that; much, much more. But it was all so trivial compared with what had been happening while she sat stubbornly wallowing in her misery. She had allowed Philip to surround her with his own guards and with Benavente and Villena her guardians, not permitting any possible friend anywhere near. These same guardians, Judases seeking their filthy twenty pieces of silver, along with other turncoats had accompanied Philip to meet her father. To discuss what she wondered, and how could they discuss anything without her presence? She hoped she had wakened up in time, that it wasn’t too late. She urged herself into action with an almost forgotten resolve. She would show them all she was the queen and not to be ignored. Head held high, chin thrust determinedly forward; she left her hiding place prepared for a confrontation with her husband.
‘Good day,’ she threw at her guardians as she swept by.
‘Can she have heard?’ whispered Villena.
‘Not a word, and if she did it would be of no interest to her.
Juana la Loca Page 15