Juana la Loca

by Linda Carlino

  ‘But we are not in a different situation. Oh, I refuse to waste time with useless words.’ He unfolded a letter. ‘This is from his majesty. By his orders the queen and the princess shall once more be under my care. There will be no further audiences here for the nobles. The king recognises that everything I have ever done was always to his satisfaction and he urges me to take up the reins once more, continuing along the same road as before, and to endure as much as is humanly possible the taunts, the gibes and the slander as may come my way. Your services, admiral, as co-administrator of this house, are no longer required. You may give your wholehearted attention to the regency and its demands. This is my domain, and mine alone.’

  ‘This is not finished yet Denia!’ the admiral stormed.

  ‘Marqués, you will think to treat my mother, the queen, in a way suited to her station, for I shall not hesitate to inform my brother, the king, if it should be otherwise.’

  ‘I think, young lady, that at fourteen years of age you must learn when you may and when you may not speak to your elders, and that when you are allowed to, you speak in an acceptable tone. You will now go to your apartments.’

  Juana could not move. Had not the Comuneros warned her that this would happen? And she had taken their words as threats.

  Philip had once wished to have her imprisoned because he wanted her crown. She had offered to share the crown with her father, but that was not enough. He had wanted it all for himself. The Comuneros freed her, yet she turned from them to put her faith in the nobles and her son. Did Charles really mean to have her treated this way? Was he another not prepared to share the crown but would rather have her somewhere far from the world as though she had ceased to exist? This was a possibility; how often had the Alliance said that she was preferred to him? Yet every time she had heard this she had leaped to her son’s defence, would have none of it. And her reward? Denia.

  She asked herself, wearily, if she had enough spirit for another fight. She was forty-three years old and tired of these conflicts. She glanced at those gathered about her who appeared as helpless as she. But the admiral was giving her an encouraging raising of his eyebrows and that was all she needed.

  ‘The battle has not yet even begun, Denia,’ she hurled at him as she strode towards him as firmly as her shaking legs would allow. ‘Take me to my prison cell, you disgusting, snivelling little rat, you liar and torturer. Oh, you have a long struggle ahead of you, both you, you bastard, and your evil wife.’

  Strong words had made her sound far braver than she felt. She could feel herself sliding and sinking down, deep down into a terrible despair.

  ‘Uncle, do everything within your power to come to visit me,’ she whispered kissing his cheek, touching that dependable beard. Then, head held high, she left the room without looking back.

  Chapter 46

  This was the second year of Denia’s new, and stricter, regime. The door to Juana's apartments opened and closed quickly and silently. From her chair opposite that of Brother Juan, in the darkened room with only a solitary candle and the dying embers of the fire to offer meagre illumination, she knew it couldn't possibly be Denia. He would have slammed it shut, shattering the surrounding plaster and sending pieces flying everywhere, before hurling invective in her direction. He certainly would this evening because earlier in the day she had escaped to the gallery and screamed out to passers-by to summon soldiers to come to kill him and his fellow torturers and set her free.

  She and the priest exchanged puzzled glances. For a moment there was nothing to be heard except the sound of someone trying to catch their breath, and then; ‘Maman, Maman.’

  Catalina's whisper fell like the most beautiful music on Juana's ears. She could barely contain her joy, ‘Catalina, at last; can you believe it possible, Brother Juan?’

  ‘It does my heart good to see her here with you.’ The old priest’s cheeks puffed out at the margins of a joyous smile.

  ‘Uncle has found me a new maid, and she is so helpful. She discovered that the marqués and his wife are entertaining a nephew, about to be appointed as chaplain, I believe, and most likely will not stir from their rooms,’ Catalina announced, struggling to remove her mantle while keeping something tucked under one arm. The garment was made into a rough and ready bed and the tiniest of dogs made comfortable in its velvety billows. This done, Catalina kissed her mother’s hands then sat at her feet.

  ‘Brother Juan,’ chuckled Juana, ‘did you ever see the like?’

  The priest peered down at the shivering little creature, ‘What will it be when it grows up?’

  Catalina laughed. ‘Not much bigger; that is all I know. She is my lap dog.’

  ‘Then let me have her on my lap.’ Juana reached out towards the dog, gathering the little bundle in her hands. ‘My goodness there is not much to you. Where did you get her from?’

  ‘From my brother. She is such wonderful company. If only you could have one. She loves to beg from me when I eat; sitting up so daintily with her front paws held up just so.’

  As Juana stroked the silky coat an image, hazy at first, took shape in her mind. It was of her brother’s dog, Bruto. ‘When I was about your age my brother had a dog, not a toy like this, but a big hunting dog, white with black smudges. The dear thing was not in the least handsome, he was such a mixture of breeds, but he was so very, very clever. We would hide things and ask him to fetch them.’ She laughed, ‘One day we were standing in a logia looking down into a street, when a man went by holding a beautiful pair of green gloves. My brother sighed aloud to have them for himself. No sooner said than Bruto, that was his name, hounded off and within minutes returned with them, leaving the poor man speechless and not knowing where to look, towards the door where the dog had disappeared, or up at us squealing and giggling.’

  Memories came and went before she was held by one more important than the rest. ‘When my brother died, Bruto refused to leave his side and followed the cortege to the lying-in. A black cushion was placed next to the bier and Bruto remained there night and day for a week, leaving only to attend to necessities.’

  ‘That story is too sad,’ insisted Catalina. ‘I brought my little pet to cheer you not make you miserable.’ She reached across Juana’s lap to fuss with her little companion’s satin collar, ‘I made this especially for her, sewing on each diamond button myself.’

  ‘Diamonds, on a dog’s collar? How did you come by them?’

  ‘Later, Maman; listen, I have so much to tell you. I have finally been able to write to my brother. I absolutely had to reply to a very cross letter he sent me about my alleged disloyalty when the Holy Alliance gentlemen were here. Denia has implied that I was in league with them; but what he did not say was that it was he who insisted that I wrote or gave them an audience to ensure he did not lose his position as governor when they came into power.’

  ‘That sounds like the duplicitous person we have come to know so well. But you said you have finally written; Denia told me you were in regular contact with Charles, wherever he might be these days.’

  ‘Yes, but never writing my own letters. When my brother writes to me Denia whisks the letter away, barely giving me time to read it, to prepare the reply which he later dictates to me. I am then made to sign without adding anything of my own. This time she added with excitement, ‘I have written my very own letter. Denia knows nothing of its existence. It will be on its way tomorrow.’

  Brother Juan sought to temper her exuberance, ‘My child, how do you hope to get your letter out of the palace? I have never known so many eyes to scrutinise, so many ears to listen, so many hands to search.’

  Juana felt a rising wave of concern; letters never did anyone any good, causing nothing but misery. How often had she herself been at their mercy? But, the deed was done and she must hope.

  Catalina considered the priest’s words. ‘You are right, of course. My other courier was discovered carrying a letter of mine to Don Fadrique’s wife, and it has taken me until now to be sure of
the loyalty of this new girl. Meanwhile the marquesa searches not only my rooms but me, in the hopes of finding a hidden note.’

  Juana knew her worries were justified. ‘Is there no limit to these people’s arrogance, their insolence? Brother Juan, the regents must be informed of this outrage against my daughter.’

  ‘Maman, please, I must continue. I have begged my brother to allow us to keep you, Brother Juan, as our confessor and counsellor. He must agree when I have told him how much we need your support and comfort.’

  ‘I thank you for your kindness. I asked the admiral to speak to the king on my behalf. But I must admit to having little confidence in the outcome. The marqués is uncomfortable with my presence here. He has not paid me in over a year and I am now reduced to begging for scraps to keep from starving. Forgive me, I had not meant to mention that. More importantly he puts every obstacle possible in my way to prevent my visiting you,’ Brother Juan sighed. ‘I fear our requests will be denied.’

  Catalina was cross with him, ‘You must be more positive. This should cheer you then; Regent Adrian has written to the king speaking very highly of you. Unlike you, I am very hopeful.’

  Juana smiled at her daughter, this child fast becoming a woman because of harsh circumstances; beautiful, sensible, sensitive, caring. She reached for her hands to clasp them to her breast. ‘Here we are, a small group of dear friends: ourselves, Adrian, the admiral, the admiral's wife and we are the only ones who know what is right and what is just. Equally curious, we are the very ones whose voices for the most part go unheard. It is a strange world that God has made when wrongdoers are rewarded for their actions and the innocent …’ She sighed and Brother Juan looked reprovingly at her. ‘However, never let this dampen your enthusiasm, Catalina, or cloud your optimism, ever.’

  ‘You two cannot be much consolation for one another. You are such pessimists. Maman, I have mentioned you several times in my letter. First, I have explained that the reason you led me from the service on Christmas Eve was because Denia had not allowed you to join us, forcing you to worship on your own in your rooms. I am convinced he will give a different version.’

  It appeared that Catalina was determined to court trouble with her letter-writing, but presumably her youth and innocence would protect her. Juana smiled, ‘That is most kind and thoughtful, although I fully expect him to have the king's ear in this case. You know, Denia and I have fought so many battles over the years about where and when I may be allowed to worship that, to be honest, I forget now whether I have always been justified in my actions or if I am indeed simply being provocative.’ She chuckled, ‘May God forgive me for enjoying such a war.’

  ‘God would surely forgive you anything, my lady, knowing how you are made to suffer.’

  ‘Please may we return to my letter?’ Catalina grasped at her mother’s hand, ‘It is still possible that someone may come before I am finished, and I want you to know everything. I have also spoken of your linens and jewels. Denia has told my brother that they were taken from you to give to me. This is a lie; it is his wife and daughters who wear them.’

  ‘I know; they flaunt everything they have stolen from me.’ And, just for a moment, she pondered on the source of the diamonds on the dog’s collar.

  ‘They have started taking my clothes, too. They wear them until they are soiled then return them, often without the jewelled fastenings.’

  ‘The things that are going on out there on the other side of the door!’

  ‘That is something else I have asked for; that you are allowed to walk in the gallery and the corridor and visit the Grand Salon whenever you wish. In fact I hope you will be given the freedom of the palace.’ Catalina waited for her mother’s reaction to what indeed might turn out to be the best gift she could ever procure for her; remembering happier days they had spent together arm in arm in those very places, before the marqués filled the palace with numerous members of his family and locked her mother in her room that she would not disturb them.

  Juana thought that after her escapade in the gallery that morning such a move would never be countenanced. ‘Too late for that, Denia and his offspring with their spouses treat this as their home, with me the unwelcome intruder.’

  ‘Well, well, well, do I hear my name being mentioned in this cosy coven?’ Denia walked from the darkness to the edge of the light.

  ‘How unlike you to sneak in; no torrent of rage, no arms flailing with exasperation, you do disappoint me.’ Juana was determined to remain strong when she saw her daughter's confidence ebb away. ‘We have been enjoying one another's company and had rather hoped to have had more time together while you were otherwise occupied.’

  ‘I ask you, would a good father sit all evening at the table and neglect others in his care?’

  ‘You came to spy.’ Catalina fought back tears.

  ‘I would have you guard your tongue, young lady,’ snapped Denia. ‘It is as well I have decided to replace all your ladies, they have taught you bad habits. You have given me no choice but to inform his majesty of your blatant disrespect. I know he will not be best pleased reading of your attitude towards the marquesa and myself. The sooner you learn your place, the better. Only then, I would add, will I permit you the extra allowance his majesty wishes you to receive.’

  Juana gripped the arms of her chair to prevent herself from leaping up and striking him, ‘Who do you think you are? Let me remind you that you are a marqués; my daughter is a royal princess.’

  ‘While you, ever since those damned Comuneros were here, have become insufferably haughty. You will never know the extent to which you nauseate me with your airs.’

  Catalina shook with anger, ‘You have no right to speak to my lady mother, Queen Juana, in such a manner. I shall write to my brother to tell him.’

  ‘In another letter or as a postscript to this?’ He held out the letter, her letter, the one she was so confident would be delivered safely into her brother’s hands.

  Juana saw it as history repeating itself; important letters, concealed letters, causing pain and anguish to the writer.

  Denia continued, ‘Have no fear, I shall send it, but it will be accompanied by my own; to clarify one or two points, one might say.’

  ‘May God forgive you,’ Brother Juan shook his head. ‘Many a poor mortal would find it difficult.’

  ‘And you, priest, may gather your belongings, you will not be here much longer. Just as soon as King Charles replies to my demand for your dismissal I shall personally conduct you to the door.’

  Catalina looked from her mother to Brother Juan, then to Denia. ‘This cannot be! All three regents have spoken on his behalf.’

  ‘You appear to know too much for your own good, and you are very slow to learn when to speak and when to remain silent.’ He turned from her to Juana. ‘I will not tolerate this continual interference from the regents any longer. I refuse to have my authority undermined. I have told the king I cannot possibly carry out his wishes with them constantly snapping at my heels.’

  The sickening realisation of the extent of this man's power filled the air. Juana raised her chin, ‘I thank you for informing us. I realise it must be very difficult for you, after all they are nothing more than mere regents who are in charge of governing the country.’

  Denia brushed away the sarcasm; there were witnesses in the room. He satisfied himself on this occasion by ordering Catalina, as he would a servant, back to her apartments.

  Juana had heard enough. She rose from her seat, handed the puppy to Catalina then prepared to make her speech. With her hands loosely clasped before her and with quiet, measured delivery, she said what had to be said to this dreadful man. ‘Denia, unlike Brother Juan, I do not think God will forgive you. For my part I hope He damns you to Hell. You have not one ounce of goodness in your body. You deny me the smallest of freedoms, not even permitting me to leave my apartments. You treat my daughter as if you were her wicked stepfather; you have the audacity to insult her. You also seek to rob us of
our dearest friend and adviser. Let me assure you, you have not heard the last of this, I will find a way to make your behaviour made public. Do not think for one moment that the ensuing violence against me, under the guise of “people of her frame of mind deserve it” will lessen my resolve.’

  She had to stop there for Catalina would be devastated to hear the many ugly truths about her treatment at this man’s hands. She turned to the priest. ‘Brother Juan, if you must leave, where will you go?’

  ‘I shall go to the monastery at Avila. We have a friend there who will speak well of me should there be any stigma attached to this dismissal. I am more concerned about leaving you without support and companionship.’

  ‘I am a survivor. Who is this friend we have?’

  ‘Hernan Duque is one of the brothers there.’

  ‘Hernan Duque, Hernan Duque; how I loved that man. Had we been of the same station in life I would willingly have become his wife.’

  ‘Maman!’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘Typical!’ sneered Denia. ‘Complete lack of religious discipline and obsessed with lascivious desires. It is little wonder the king fears for your soul. As God is my witness I do my utmost to keep you on the straight and narrow path of virtue.’

  ‘Pish; you have no idea of the meaning of the word virtue, nor of love, nor of respect for that matter. Hernan was a man of intellect and learning, cultured in the arts. We spent many happy hours together; the days were often not long enough.’

  And he had been a gallant escort; so attentive, desperate to please, ensuring everything was to her liking, compassionate and sympathetic when doubts and mistrust reappeared from time to time and made her angry with the world. But she would not mention these things, they would only be sullied by a man determined to tarnish something good and pure.

  ‘Another reason for keeping you isolated, away from dangerous influences. Education is not for women, it is an evil to be avoided at all costs.’