‘But is there not part of you that feels this is all posturing on her part, seeking attention, after years of loneliness?’
‘Father Francisco,’ Domingo would have him remember he was an eminent theologian, an authority on the subject of heresy, and would also have him know how very angry he was that such a dreadful state of affairs could have been allowed to exist in the royal house and that there had been no intervention before now; nor would he be made a fool of, ‘on the one hand she is under the influence of heretical powers, or on the other she has the mind and soul of a new born babe and lacks all comprehension. In either case, you must not on any account, and that includes any weakening of your own resolve, offer anything other than Extreme Unction at the onset of death. There is nothing further to discuss.’ He had to get back to his books; the answer must be there somewhere.
Chapter 52
Following the departure of Domingo de Soto autumn slipped quietly and uneventfully into winter; the worst winter in years. No one could remember one with quite such stinging blasts of icy winds, with leaden skies repeatedly hurling down frenzied, blinding snow enveloping Tordesillas in a thick, freezing, white blanket.
February of 1555 continued the bitter cold. The houses in the small town provided only minimal shelter against the storms constantly renewing their attacks.
The palace fared little better. Every part, be it room, corridor, or staircase, had its own particular chill or draught. Everywhere, that was, except Juana’s bedchamber, where heavy curtains at the firmly shut window and a tapestry hanging across the door forbade entry to the merest suggestion of winter, and where a fire blazed in the hearth.
The door had been held open just long enough to allow a team of young lads to carry the many buckets of hot water necessary for the queen’s daily bath; that done it was quickly shut tight allowing the small room to return to its former stifling state.
Four ladies of the bedchamber, chosen by Father Francisco for their exemplary Christian character in a climate of creeping heresy, four chamber boys, and Juana’s physician, the wide and very round Doctor Cara, filled what little space remained between the bed, a small table, and the bath with its draped white sheet.
The ladies of the bedchamber waited, armed with snowy white towels. The doctor stood by the table with its bowl of ointment next to the casket and the leather box and beamed down his self-congratulation from thick, moist lips and shining red cheeks. This ointment, a mixture of bretonica and goat fat, was proving immensely effective, and he congratulated himself once more on having made such a wise decision.
With chubby hands clasped over his rotund belly he addressed the closed bed hangings, ‘And how are the pains this morning, my lady?’
‘Almost gone,’ was the muffled reply from behind the brocades. ‘I slept better, too.’
‘Excellent!’ But still he sighed because much valuable time had been wasted through her stubbornness, her refusal to allow him anywhere near to offer the benefits of his profound wisdom and expertise.
A whole year had passed since her fall and for almost as long she had been confined to her bed or chair. Eventually she had lost the use of her legs and they had become so swollen and unbearably painful that she finally had to concede defeat and permit Doctor Cara to examine her.
Remarkably his regime of daily baths and the application of generous amounts of the soothing ointments had eased the pain and controlled the swelling.
In fact Juana was beginning to feel well enough to entertain the idea of renewing Father Francisco’s visits. They would most certainly brighten up the monotonous days. She was already planning the subjects for discussion. The first would centre on her granddaughter and her apparent desire to join Francisco’s new sect, the Jesuits. Juana knew the princess wasn’t the least bit serious; it was a ploy to prevent Charles from planning to marry her off a second time; and Juana applauded any stratagem, whatever it might be, to thwart men who felt it their right to dispose of women as they would a table or a chair.
A conversation of this nature would also discourage any further talk about her own continued determination not to attend Mass, and the huge threat of excommunication allegedly hovering over her. It was on everybody’s lips. Hopefully Francisco would not bring that other dour priest who would pour his sour gloom over what could otherwise be a most pleasant chat.
Another topic she had in mind should provide her with some entertainment at Francisco’s expense. She had discovered some while since, she couldn’t remember who told her, that one of his daughters was married to a son of the dreadful Denia. She would dearly like to know why he had never mentioned it. Now might be the time to find out his reasons for not doing so, not that she was overly suspicious, but it would be best for him to be open with her, then she would know she could trust him. It was such a wicked world and some of the wickedest folk in it were those you would least suspect. Yes, perhaps later today after her bath she would send for him.
‘Have the queen prepared for her bath.’
Accompanied by Juana’s groans of discomfort and irritation — she so hated to be touched, hated anyone to see her nakedness — the ladies loosened her chemise and raised it above her head, a sheet laid over her to protect her modesty.
The bed hangings were then pulled back and the four chamber boys drew near. They each took a corner of upper and lower sheet and carried Juana in this hammock to her bath. She was slowly lowered into the steaming water.
Juana screamed; her arms flailed wildly desperately trying to be free of the wet linen clinging tightly to her.
Doctor Cara rushed to her, ‘My lady?’ He plunged his hands into the water to lift her. ‘Get her out, get her out!’ He bellowed at the boys, leaping back, pushing his hands inside his wide sleeves for comfort. ‘Who, in God’s name, was responsible for testing the water? Did no one add cold? This is scalding hot; get her out, I tell you!’
Juana was lifted out; the lads content to thrust their hands and arms deep into the hot water knowing that those responsible for this would probably experience far worse.
‘Lay the queen on her front.’
Juana was too distressed to care about the indignity of being bundled and rolled; that her wrinkled, dried out breasts and her belly hanging as if ready to slide off her bones were about to be exposed for all to see. The wet sheets were removed and dry towels placed gently over her back and legs.
‘Boy,’ Doctor Cara collared the nearest, ‘you get yourself down to the pharmacy as fast as your legs will carry you. Ask the pharmacist for ointment for scalds. Gum Arabic is best; but no, speed is most important, so ask for whatever he can prepare the fastest. Tell him it’s urgent. Tell him it’s for the queen.’
Juana was whimpering, clinging to the mattress, biting into the pillow with toothless jaws, praying that the pain would lessen.
Doctor Cara approached her. ‘My lady, I must see your back to determine the extent of any injuries.’
‘No! No! Never! No one must touch me,’ she cried into her knuckles. ‘I am best left on my own.’
‘You must allow me, if I am to help; and you do need help.’
There was no alternative; she had to yield, ‘Then be quick.’
The examination was completed. Doctor Cara was chilled and sickened by what he saw; the whole of her back from her shoulders down was red and inflamed; her buttocks and legs were worse than anything he had ever witnessed in his life. Leaning close and sounding as if he had all the confidence in the world he announced, ‘Yes, well, there is a little scalding here and there which we will have cured in no time.’ He beckoned one of the ladies, ‘For the next few days or so you will ensure that the queen has goat’s milk and butter at every meal; and will you send for the barber, her majesty must be bled.’
‘No, a thousand times no! I hope everyone hears this; I am not to be bled. Just look at me, I barely have enough blood to fill my body as it is.’
The boy returned from the pharmacist bursting into the room with a huge bowl and a b
reathless message, ‘He says there is a better one but it takes longer to prepare but he’s going to start on it right away, and he’ll bring it himself as soon as its ready.’
‘So, ladies, if you are ready; this must be smoothed on with the utmost care. You must ensure that every affected part of the lower body is entirely covered. Then take the towels and place them gently over the reddened areas. When this is done it is your duty to see that her majesty remains as still as possible.’
Juana laughed through her tears, ‘How fortunate you are doctor that your patient is expert at remaining still for hours, even days. At least on this occasion I will not be judged as being crazy for doing so.’
‘Shame on you, lady, for thinking such thoughts!’ But it was true, nonetheless.
Juana was meanwhile bitterly disappointed; she would have to postpone her meeting with Father Francisco.
Chapter 53
The relentlessly painful days of February had become the relentlessly painful days of March. Doctor Cara arrived for his usual daily visit. Today he was followed at a discreet distance by two elderly menservants, their rickety legs looking more bowed than ever as they tottered under the bulky burdens on their backs.
He stopped in the antechamber, ‘You wait here until you are called.’
He checked the position of his doctor’s cap, tucking it about his ears, rearranged his gown at the shoulders then swept into the bedchamber. Looking neither to right nor left he marched straight to the bed surprising the ladies and the chamber boys more accustomed to his jovial greeting.
There was no time for pleasantries today. Doctor Cara was angry, very angry. He had had enough of addressing his patient through a wall of heavy brocade; he was tired of being denied access; he would have no more of it.
Without a moment’s hesitation he threw back the bed hangings. He was met by a blast of hot, reeking foulness that made him reel. He held his sleeve across his nose and mouth and swallowed hard to prevent himself from retching.
It took him a second or two to compose himself and return to the indignation that had propelled him corridors and up the stairs.
‘My lady,’ he addressed Juana’s back, allowed all the good work to be undone so quickly?’ He moved briskly to the other side of the bed and pulled aside more hangings.
Juana buried her head in the crook of her arm not wishing to scowling along
‘why have you face him. ‘Go away.’ But he was not of a mood to go away, not any more. He was furious and he was going to have his way.
‘The blisters were beginning to heal until you started this nonsense: when you stopped using the ointment, when you decided to ignore my instructions. I said that you were to have your position changed regularly; gently but regularly. You decided otherwise and refused to move, lying on this one side day and night. Today you shall be moved. I insist. I will also examine you. And another thing,’ his ruddy cheeks had taken on a livid hue, his voice was tight with rage, ‘your bed linen will be changed. How many weeks is it …?’
A faint crackled refusal came from beneath her elbow. ‘Go away. I will remain as I am. I command it. I am the queen.’
Doctor Cara exploded, ‘You are my patient. I am the one who gives the orders!’
‘I will not be touched.’
The thought of the indignity of such an event was too embarrassing to contemplate, and she could not bear it. She prayed that they would leave her alone in her filth; it was hers and she could and would continue to tolerate it. When she had had that first accident in her bed it had been a difficult decision to take as to whether or not she should ask someone to attend to her, but once taken there was no going back. But she hadn’t counted on Doctor Cara overriding her orders. How was she to prevent the inevitable?
‘My lady, I will hear no more. Dear God, I would not suffer an animal to sleep in such mire!’
He snapped his fingers at the chamber boys, ‘Tell the servants to bring in the mattresses; they are waiting. I want two of you to lift her majesty.’
She raved and howled, but she was lifted from her bed and placed on a newly made mattress on the floor. Following weeks of inactivity the room was suddenly alive and busy. The fouled mattress, sodden with urine and faeces was bundled out of the room. Chamber boys held a screen of sheets as the ladies stripped Juana of her filthy chemise and bathed away the excrement from her buttocks and legs.
Never had they envisaged such a demand being made of them, yet they found the courage and the will. Juana was soon clean, in a fresh chemise and lying on the other new mattress, between sheets with their newly laundered fragrance.
Now that she was so clean and so much more comfortable she began to wonder why she had resisted for so long. What would that other Juana have done under the circumstances? Would she have wanted to protect herself from the indignity of being treated as an infant, to be turned this way and that in her cradle, to be cleaned from top to tail? Or would she have been ready to dismiss it as no more than a delicate situation? Juana knew the answer, and felt she had let herself down rather badly.
No sooner had she resolved to be more positive than the marquesa appeared in the doorway, elegant in green velvet and holding a silver pomander beneath her proud nose.
‘You said my presence was necessary,’ she complained from behind the silver ball.
‘Ah, marquesa,’ the doctor had returned to his more affable self having rid the room of all the gruesome evidence of neglect. ‘I am this very moment about to examine my patient.’
He, the marquesa, and the ladies of the bedchamber surrounded Juana who groaned at this further embarrassment; that the marquesa should see her like this. It was going to take a huge effort, but then again the marquesa’s embarrassment might be even greater than hers. A weak laugh escaped her.
Doctor Cara congratulated himself for Juana’s return to good humour seeing it as a direct result of his intervention. ‘It is good to hear your laughter again. Ladies if you would kindly turn the queen. This is the side her majesty has been resting on for far too long,’ he explained to the marquesa who had no intention of allowing her eyes to rest on anything other than the engraved floral designs on her pomander. After the briefest of moments she retired to wait by the door.
She was joined shortly by the doctor who gave instructions for the fire to be built up and ushered off a chamber boy on a whispered urgent errand.
‘Marquesa, as you witnessed, the blisters from the scalding never healed; in fact they have reopened and become infected. Both buttocks are covered in sores.’
‘You may spare me the details.’
‘There is also evidence of rotting flesh. There is no time to be lost. I have sent the boy for my irons.’
‘Tell me, doctor, how soon will you know if she is responding to this treatment?’
‘I shall do what I can but, truthfully, I see little hope.’
‘Then why bother?’
He wouldn’t allow himself to answer.
‘Then if you must, you must. Meanwhile I shall send a message to Valladolid to ask the princess, DoΖa Juana, to come immediately; just as a precaution, you understand.’ The marquesa hastened off to deliver the good news to her husband.
‘This will be painful, but necessary, my lady.’ Two ladies held her arms, another two her feet as the irons were applied. Smoke and the pungent smell of burning flesh filled their nostrils. Juana’s piteous screams filled the room, the palace, escaping even to the narrow road that ran below the window. Passers by someone would stop Somehow or other the news of the gravity of Queen Juana’s illness spread throughout the small town, and folk flocked to the churches to pray for their beloved monarch.
heard and covered their ears hoping
whatever was causing such agonies. Juana’s granddaughter arrived later in the day and went immediately to her bedside.
‘Who asked you to come?’
‘The marquesa sent for me, honourable grandmother.’ ‘How like her, she is probably on her knees right now
praying for my death.’
‘Grandmother! You do her a grave injustice.’
‘What would you know?’
‘All the townsfolk are praying for you.’
‘And theirs are honest prayers; they are the only ones who
have ever cared.’
‘Your criticism of the marquesa is unfair. She has been an
excellent servant to you for many years.’
‘Speak only about those things of which you have an
indisputable knowledge.’
‘Perhaps this will please you; I have sent for other doctors.’ ‘I want to be left in peace. Doctor Cara has done everything
there is to be done. There is to be no more meddling. Let
everything be.’
‘Well I shall certainly send for Father Francisco.’ ‘If you deem it necessary,’ she snapped back wanting to be
left in peace, wishing her granddaughter had never come; she
had no need for anyone. Then she mulled the idea over, ‘Yes,
do that, send for Father Francisco. I have some unfinished
business with him.’
Chapter 54
A month had passed by, day upon day of unspeakable agony. ‘Where is Father Francisco?’ Juana was barely audible, her
voice tiny, breaking; her thickened tongue making it a huge
and tiring effort to speak.
‘I am here. I am never far from your side.’
‘Father,’ hot tears spilled over her cheeks and on to her
pillow, ‘will I be forgiven for what I said yesterday? My anger
was meant neither for you nor the Church. I should not have
ranted at you, you are a good man. I know I did say some
wicked things. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, I hear you; your words were not wicked but most
unjust. It was wrong of you to say that for years no one had
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