But Hernan was in no position to say anything.
Chimay knew he had won. ‘That is a most wise decision and may God grant you many years of peace and contentment.’
He congratulated himself on achieving two of his objectives; Prince Ferdinand was out of the way and Juana was being manipulated nicely. There was still much to be done, the funeral of Philip and the question of Catalina were trivial and easy to deal with; of major importance were the Cortes of Castile and Aragón, but they were not beyond his capabilities. Chapter 41
Marta could not move. The morning of March 13th, would be engraved on her heart forever, would go to her grave with her; and that might be soon enough she thought holding her fist tight against the pain in her chest.
‘Marta. Marta, what is this? Am I to be kept waiting?’ The calls came at first from the adjoining room, now the voice and Juana appeared before Marta.
‘Oh, m'lady, m'lady …’ She hung her head weeping tears of anguish, smearing her red eyes and wet cheeks roughly with the back of her hand. She sobbed, ‘I don't understand.’
‘Where is my daughter?’ Juana panicked.
‘M'lady I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know, she must be here. The
only way into the corridor is through my apartment. She must be here.’ She tore the covers from the bed. ‘She must be here!’ she screamed, ‘People do not disappear. Look, damn you, look!’
‘Please, m'lady, I have looked and better-looked. Her two maids of the bedchamber are gone too.’
‘Go for Hernan Duque.’
Marta picked up her skirts and waddled off in the fastest waddle her old legs could manage.
Juana turned about the room wildly. Her beautiful and most precious daughter was not here, could not possibly be here, there was nowhere to hide. The large chest stood open, but it held nothing but disordered clothes tossed about in Marta's alarm.
‘The window then,’ but she saw it was still shut, the latches in place. She opened it to look down into the street. There was nothing to be seen. ‘This must be witchcraft. She has been spirited away. What have they done with you, Catalina?’ Panic tore at her heart, her thinking.
She patted the bed hangings between her two hands as if hoping to find her child amongst their folds. She lifted pillows and cushions as if expecting to discover her hidden beneath. She lay on the floor peering into the space under the bed. She searched the chest, the bed again, then back to the cushions weeping, ‘Catalina, my Catalina.’
Her last hope was the tapestry and she tugged at it, pulling it away from the wall, Catalina may yet be behind it, teasing; but she knew Catalina would not tease.
A howl escaped her. ‘What is this? Who has done this? My God, someone has come in here and stolen her! Dear God, somebody, anybody, come here and tell me what is going on! Hernan, where are you? Someone must know about this! I want my child! Here; now! Do you hear me? Someone must get her back for me!’
Her screaming and howling became smothered in one of Catalina's dresses that she pressed to her face.
Her new chamberlain strode in quite nonchalantly to enquire, ‘My lady what is the cause of this distress?’
‘Oh my God, Bertrand, someone has robbed me of my child,’ Juana sobbed.
‘Robbed, my lady? I cannot believe that she is missing at all,’ his voice inferred she was completely mistaken. ‘But we will soon find out.’
‘I know she is missing,’ screamed Juana pulling at his sleeve. ‘Come, see here. Someone came through this opening behind the tapestry.’
‘Why, my lady this is … this is …’
This was the hole he had made so carefully over a number of days. This was the hole he had made as part of the scheme Charles had devised on his last visit to Tordesillas. This was the hole he had quietly climbed through in the middle of the night. This was the hole through which he had escorted Catalina and her two maids to have them whisked off to Valladolid and to her brother, King Charles.
Catalina had taken a great deal of persuading. He had tried at first with tales of riches, fine clothes, servants, feasts and fiestas but all to no avail. It was only when he began to talk about disobeying the king and the wrath this would bring down on her head that she had finally agreed. She had cried and cried about her poor mother, trying his patience to the limit, so he had promised her faithfully that he would see to it that Juana was told the moment she awoke. The maids had been an easier proposition, they had either to comply or go to prison. They did not need reminding that it is treason to disobey a king, and treason brings its own special punishments. A litter waited in readiness at the bridge, with Leonor’s ladies-in-waiting and a full mounted guard. The whole process had gone completely to plan.
All Bertrand had to do now was to act his new role of incredulity and indignation.
‘My lady this is dreadful, unbelievable. I shall send for Hernan Duque. He will have some explaining to do.’ The lies just tripped from his tongue.
‘I have sent for him already. He should be here immediately.’
Marta had disquieting news. ‘Hernan cannot be found,’ she wheezed from the doorway.
Bertrand knew that Hernan Duque could not be found because yesterday, sensing foul play, Hernan had refused to leave the palace doors unlocked and for this insubordination had been dismissed and despatched to a monastery.
‘No sign of him? So, the plot thickens.’ Bertrand stroked his chin.
‘Something evil is happening here,’ Juana sobbed. ‘Summon everyone, now. Oh, sweet Jesus help me find my daughter.’
‘If I may suggest, my lady, there are too many for all to gather here.’
‘Bertrand, do not suggest anything. I shall decide what is to be done. I will question them one by one until I get the truth. I must have my Catalina returned safely to me.’
Juana asked each and everyone who worked in the palace, from the highest to the lowest. She demanded information; she begged information. No one had seen or heard anything. Their lack of alarm irritated her. They said she must be patient as there was bound to be an explanation, and she was furious.
‘Can you not understand, some kind of robber has crept into my child's room and has stolen her away? How dare any of you stand there and not be worried sick about my Catalina! Why are you not starting an immediate investigation, why are you yourselves not searching?’
At that moment she realised the truth. It had happened before, when her little boy Ferdinand had been taken from her. They all knew; they knew why Hernan could not be found. They had no doubts as to the whereabouts of Catalina; and they had no intention of telling her anything. That was the only possible way to account for their strange behaviour. Whose plan was it to torment her this time?
‘I warn you, I will neither eat nor sleep until Catalina stands before me. Do you hear?’ she shouted, and to emphasise her determination she repeated it several times throwing dishes, bowls, and anything else that came to hand.
‘Your highness,’ Bertrand dodged the missiles, ‘I will go directly to the king for you. He will send messengers to every city and port in the land. Have no fear, he will find Catalina and have her returned to you.’ He calculated that these further lies ought to calm her for a while.
For several days not one drop passed her lips, not one bite was taken from the meals left for her. She would neither wash nor change her clothing. She refused to go to bed and would not sleep. Bowls, dishes, ewers and pitchers were flung at the walls and at the floor. Marta remained at her side; waiting, praying, and trying to be of some comfort.
Bertrand, who had made no effort whatsoever to contact Charles, dared not delay any longer, he was worried and he wrote to his master. Within hours Charles arrived at the palace with Catalina.
Charles awaited his mother in the Grand Salon preferring to save himself the discomfort of his mother's apartment where he was sure she would have the advantage. He would feel much more confident in this room seated on his impressive chair.
/> Juana had not wasted a moment. As soon as she had been told of his arrival she had run to find him.
She faced her son.
‘Where is she?’
‘My lady, I bring you good news of your daughter.’
‘Where is she, I said,’ she screeched.
Charles flinched. ‘I have brought her back. Believe me this has all been a dreadful mistake. You see it was members of my court who accompanied me from Brussels. They were the ones, I’m afraid, who ordered her abduction. It was because they felt so sorry for her. They did not like the way she was being brought up here; with no one of her own age, passing so much of her time alone in that small room, unable to go out walking or riding. They felt she should have a court suited to her station.’
‘Lies, lies, lies! All pathetic lies and you know it! And, in any case, your people saw kidnapping her as the answer? Tell me why did you not return her to me immediately, from the very instant she was brought to you? You must have known how worried I would be, and yet you kept her with you. Everything is such a transparent tissue of lies, and you expect me to …’
‘No matter, for it shall not occur again. At the time I was so angered that my sister’s plight had become the subject of such common gossip amongst my courtiers that I …’ He knew that another weak lie would do nothing to convince her. ‘However, I have decided to provide her with a suitable court here.’
‘Well how good of you! Surely that was all you had to do in the first place. There was never a need to steal my child away. How could you be so cruel? And did no one stop to wonder how I would feel? Did you not stop to think of the torment this would put me through, the anguish I was made to suffer for days? Or did you, I wonder? Every word I have heard you utter would sound dishonest to a fool, and believe me Charles I am no fool.’
He ignored her, ‘I have brought a court of two hundred which should be sufficient for you and Catalina.’
‘I am sure you know well enough that I do not care for large courts.’
‘I am doing this for Catalina, and let me advise you that if you wish to keep her here with you, you will accept.’
‘Then I have no option in the face of such a threat.’ She knew she could not bear to live if she were to lose her daughter, her sole comfort.
‘And you will also agree to Catalina having her own apartments some distance from yours, and the freedom to go in and out as she pleases without you. She is also to have children about her, young ladies and page boys.’
‘I have never prevented her from … But I have had to be careful lest anyone, lest anyone try to take her … just as has happened. How can I be sure I can trust you, trust your wicked countrymen? You must swear to me that she will always be safe even when I am not with her.’
‘Maman I am offended that you appear not to trust me, your son. Of course she will be safe. And I insist that she go out and enjoy the fresh air of the countryside.’
‘We both enjoy that already. We go out together quite frequently with Hernan Duque. But if Catalina wishes to go out without me, although I am not sure she is old enough, and you can assure us of her safety why I am sure that it can be arranged. I shall speak to Hernan.’
‘He is no longer the head of your household. I found him to be unreliable.’
‘How can you say that when for two years he has been …’
‘Enough,’ he did not care to involve himself further. ‘I have appointed the Marqués de Denia. He is the new Governor and Administrator of this house. I have also given him full control over the town of Tordesillas.’
‘That seems to be extraordinarily unnecessary; the town already has a captain and a magistrate.’
‘Denia will take his instructions directly from me, for the palace and the town. It is for the best. You will live here in comfort with your court as my honoured mother, with nothing to concern your dear self save any pleasures you desire.’
Chimay had assured him that in this way he was fulfilling to the letter the duties prescribed by the Cortes of Castile. He was assigning his mother a residence which was more than suitable for a queen. By removing Tordesillas out of Castile and making it his own private domain he ensured that any news of the queen coming from the town would be from one source only, Denia.
Charles clapped his hands, ‘Now, here is the new Princess Catalina.’
Catalina entered slowly and shamefacedly in her new outfit, a dress of lilac satin edged with gold.
‘Maman, I am back with you. I intended no hurt. I am so sorry you were caused such pain. Some people lied to me, made me follow their orders, I had no choice. But now I am here and I promise I will always be here.’
‘It was no wrong of yours my treasure. The wrong sits firmly on the shoulders of those who deceived you and stole you from me.’
Charles shrugged off her criticism. ‘My work is finished here. I have important business to attend to. I leave you in the capable and secure hands of the marqués.’
Juana hugged Catalina. She was back.
‘So, we are to have a grand court of two hundred. It sounds exciting; we will be able to do even more than we did with Hernan. If only I knew why he was dismissed. But come, we must go to Marta. This whole business has made her quite ill.’
Juana hurried down the corridor Catalina’s stories of the brilliance Leonor’s preparations to leave for Portugal to marry King Emanuel.
‘The last I heard he was married to my sister Maria,’ she replied quite matter-of-fact.
‘Aunt Maria died some time ago, Maman.’
‘Well, there you are you see, no one tells me anything.’
They rushed into Juana’s apartments calling for Juana’s faithful servant. They didn’t see her at first, only a bundle of skirts on the floor.
‘Oh God, no. Catalina, go and call my doctor.’
A weak voice begged from the bundle, ‘No, let me see the sweet child.’
They managed to place cushions under her head and Juana only half listening to of Charles’s court, of held her hands, ‘Marta, dear friend, what ails you?’
‘Nothing, it will pass in a moment or two. I’ve been having twinges these last few days. But here is our Catalina safely returned to us. God has answered my prayers. I only hope he answers the others about punishing those who were wicked enough to do such a thing.’
Marta pulled her hands free to press them against the pain in her chest, gasping, her face contorted. There was a hint of a smile then Juana’s devoted friend and confidante quietly died. Chapter 42
‘I swear you would sorely try the patience of a saint!’ The Marqués de Denia, a thin and spiteful looking man, slammed the door shut behind him, folded his arms and glowered at Juana.
‘And what would you know of saints and their patience? Very little, if anything, marqués. But you are making a fuss about nothing; I simply sent for you, as I have on so many occasions, God Himself only knows how often, to accompany me to the convent. Perhaps this time you would oblige me? Please do not use poor weather as an excuse again, it is a beautiful day.’
Juana walked to the window and looked down at the kitchen maids scurrying about their chores throwing waste onto an ever-growing pile of rotting refuse. Even this sight was preferable to facing her “gaoler”.
Two years had passed since Denia had replaced Hernan Duque. Far from having her own court Juana had been forced to return to the apartments at the rear of the building to live in virtual isolation. It was true that her daughter Catalina now enjoyed a better life. She had her courtiers with young ladies-in-waiting and pageboys. There were banquets, balls, riding out into the country; all of which she merrily recounted to her mother, if and when she was permitted to come to this part of the palace.
Juana had no privileges, indeed had no freedom. There were no reasons given, no explanations.
She was dressed for outdoors, wearing her cloak and outdoor hood and, because she felt today was rather special; she was also wearing her freshly cleaned and pressed dress.
W
ithout disguising his impatience Denia answered, ‘How many times do you have to be told that it is I and not you who decides if and when you may go outside. You will not be going anywhere today.’
‘Then I order you to send for the grandees to come here as soon as they are able, to see how I am treated. I want them to witness for themselves how you hold me prisoner.’ How often had she commanded the presence of the lords, any of them, and yet nothing had come of it.
Denia snapped back, ‘It is none of their business. They can do nothing for you. I grow weary of repeating myself, but let me remind you once more that I am following your father's instructions, and the grandees are in no position to question his authority.’
Juana knitted her brows, puzzled, forcing herself to look at him, her eyes searching his face, looking for clues, trying to make sense of what he had just said, wishing that Marta was still alive, and able to confirm that King Ferdinand was dead.
‘You say again that these are the commands of my father?’
‘If I must repeat it, yes they are.’
‘Marqués, we both know that my father died some time ago.’
‘Not so. Your father is alive, and that is the truth.’
‘My son Charles came here because …’
‘Because,’ Denia interrupted, wanting this package of lies over and done with, ‘he wanted to personally intercede for you. He was most desirous to plead with your father on your behalf.’
‘And where is my son now?’ Juana asked, trying to comprehend.
‘Your son is in Aragón. But why are we wasting our time discussing this. I have had to leave my work, important correspondence, to come here this morning.’
‘Then return to your writing, marqués and, while you are about it,’ doing her utmost to fight her dejection she removed her cloak and hood; still holding them close lest there be any chance of a last minute change of mind, ‘write to my son letting him know that his mother, the queen, insists that he or his representatives come here to … to …’ to do what, she wondered.
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