A Matter of Pride

by Linda Carlino

  “Strange; no, I never heard that one, so it can’t be true. What I do know was she had bats in the belfry. When she really got her blood boiling she wouldn’t eat, nor sleep, nor wash, nor change her clothes.”

  “Doesn’t sound a whole lot different to most folks as I know who can be like that without getting their mad up.”

  “You’re being awkward. Anyway she threw pots at people.”

  “You been near any of our cooks on a bad day?”

  “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

  “Course I do, go on.”

  “What they did was leave her some bread and cheese in pots outside her door, ’cause if she saw anybody, she threw the whole lot at them. Then they say as how she wouldn’t go to church, and kept rabbiting on about bloody great big cats eating up all her family …”

  “Bloody ’ell now that does sound crackers.”

  “What did I tell you! Anyway let’s listen then we’ll have a good tale to tell the lads tonight. Could be worth a few extra drinks, eh?”

  II

  Quijada, Francisco and Gaztelu gathered at the king’s side.

  “Let me have you all closer; no excuses about the heat, Quijada. Gaztelu, sit yourself down and for God’s sake no fussing. Francisco, I want you beside me. Now, we are ready. Francisco is going to tell us of the final hours of my dear departed mother. Slowly now, I want every word loud and clear.”

  “It was late in the evening of Holy Thursday. Her highness had confessed, begging God’s forgiveness. Let me stress, my lord, that the queen was of sound mind and able to confess her sins. After Extreme Unction was administered she fell into a deep slumber. There were many who stayed to keep vigil as she slept. The dawn arrived and as the world awoke so Queen Juana opened her eyes. All the lines of pain had disappeared. Her face was younger, happier. There was an aura of peace emanating from her. We were all conscious of it, all enfolded within it. In the faintest of whispers she asked for the crucifix that I had been holding over her throughout the night. Then God guided my hand to choose what I thought was a trinket from a box by her bedside. I put it into her hand. She smiled and barely audible she told us that this medallion with its image of the Holy Virgin, the Mother of God, was one of her most treasured possessions. Her mother had given her it for her fifteenth birthday, the day she had been told of her forthcoming marriage to Philip of Austria. She kissed the Holy Virgin’s likeness then laid it on her breast. I brought the crucifix close to her and with her lips she gently caressed the blessed feet of our Lord. After a few moments, as if summoned, she raised her arms towards Heaven. Then it was as if our Saviour was reaching down to gather her up,own she called to Him, ‘Sweet Jesus who was crucified, help me …’”

  Quijada’s tears fell onto his black velvet jerkin. He watched the diamond droplets gather before changing to damp smudges. He drew his short gown about him to conceal them, “Free at last, may your soul have eternal peace, you poor, dear lady,” he wept silently.

  A long silence followed, everyone held prisoner by images, until the mood was broken by the harsh throat clearing of Carlos. He made the sign of the cross on his breast, “Good, good. That leaves not the smallest doubt then. Confession, Extreme Unction, the Crucifix, calling on God.”

  Francisco nodded, “Queen Juana’s soul is at peace, and your soul and those of your family are safe.”

  “Dear God, but that’s an enormous weight off my mind I can tell you. You have no idea how worrying this whole damned business has been.”

  Then he turned to snap at Quijada, for the tears had not gone unnoticed, tears which he himself found impossible to shed, “Sitting there snivelling. You grow more like an old lady every day and you are beginning to exasperate me. I want you to make plans to go to Villagarcía, get your wife and bring her to Cuacos. You should find a place decent enough there for certain. Do it immediately. No arguments, you will do as I say. At this rate you are going to have us all as miserable as yourself. One of the monks will attend to things in your absence. We can discuss details later. If those lads are still there I want them out of the room.”

  Quijada motioned to Samuel and José. They bowed and turned to go.

  “So what was all that then? Where was the crazy bit?” Samuel whispered.

  “What the ’ell do I know? I was only telling you what I’d heard.”

  “Just shows you can’t believe everything what you ’ear then. Nice little story about her dying though, wasn’t it?”

  III

  Carlos turned partway towards the door, “Are they gone? Good. Now to pressing business; Francisco, I have an important matter for you to deal with. You will have to forget your plans for your new college for a while. I want you to leave early tomorrow morning for Portugal, to visit Catalina. The letter you are to carry will be ready by the end of the day.”

  “If I can be of any service, my lord; and I must admit I half expected you would call on me.”

  “You have to ask Catalina if she still has all the necessary documents for the dispensations for several marriages; first that of our Aunt Maria. It was a long time ago but Maria’s sister had been married to Emanuel and after her death Maria became his second wife. Catalina must also be sure she has those for my daughter Juana to her son John Emanuel, and of my son Felipe to her daughter Maria.”

  “My lord?”

  “Nothing of significance, first cousins, nothing more; this is simply a precaution should the Portuguese court require them. I hope to God she does have them because this damned pope might decide to be awkward if we had to ask for copies.”

  “My lord, you misjudge his holiness.”

  “The hell I do! He is hand in glove with the French and would take great delight in prevaricating, putting us to great inconvenience and causing us embarrassment.”

  “And do you envisage a problem with the Portuguese?” Francisco asked, careful to avoid further discussion about the pope.

  “No; but it is best to be prepared for all eventualities. This is the situation; Sebastian, my daughter’s son, has inherited the Portuguese throne from his grandfather. But Sebastian not being very robust may well follow his father to an early grave.”

  Francisco thought of the many times Princess Juana had spoken to him of her tragically short marriage and her beloved child. “The princess often speaks of Sebastian, she misses the little fellow, and he is always in her prayers. Heaven forefend that anything should befall him.”

  “Yes, yes, quite; but in the event that something does, then Felipe’s son Prince Carlos is next in line.”

  “Because he is the child of Felipe and Catalina’s daughter Maria.”

  “Precisely, so you see the need for the evidence of dispensation for that marriage.”

  You see all the burdens a king must carry when he has the interests of his family at heart! I suppose Carlos is no different than most. Kings carry many weighty problems they create themselves, just like this one. First you bend the rules on consanguinity then later you find yourself worrying about the consequences.

  “And these next matters are of great importance; I cannot emphasise just how important. Remind Catalina how it broke my heart that despite all my earnest efforts to bring about the reconciliation between Maria and Felipe I was unsuccessful, and how I still grieve her passing at such a tender age. Say how delighted we all are that it is she who will assume the regency during the child’s minority, that there is no one more suited to the task. Lastly I want you to put forward the idea of the exchange of marriage contracts between Sebastian and my granddaughter in Bohemia. Tell Catalina that the proposition would be for the girl to be taken to Portugal, immediately, to be raised as a Portuguese princess. I think that covers everything. Gaztelu, have I missed anything out?”

  “Indeed not, my lord.”

  “Speed is essential for there is always someone else hovering, ready to negotiate alternatives. The damned French are bound to be the first in the queue. You will have my letter, naturally, but my sister knows you well s
o will have every trust in you … What the blazes! What is all that commotion out there? What the devil is going on?”

  There was a thundering of boots and a jangling of spurs coming from the corridor. Alarm struck them all. They suddenly felt vulnerable in this peaceful little retreat. The three gentlemen around Carlos rose as one and rushed to the door, Quijada’s hand ready on the hilt of his sword. Gaztelu pulled the door open and Quijada stepped out into the corridor, sword unsheathed, Samuel and José moved swiftly to his side.

  Two guards had by now halted the progress of the intruders.

  Carlos clled from his chair, “Quijada, who is it? Quickly, tell me, man!”

  Quijada returned to the room, “The princess regent’s ambassador.”

  “Damn and blast! Organise their welcome. Think of something to detain them awhile, refreshments and the like, until I get the details of this letter sorted out with Gaztelu. This must be attended to first before we get involved in anything else, this is too important; unless, of course it is of some greater urgency, in which case … oh, you deal with it!”

  Francisco bowed, “With permission then, I shall take this opportunity to have lunch then make arrangements for my departure.”

  “Yes, yes. Go then. Go.”

  Has his majesty’s urgency surprised you? He is still driven by the same tireless determination to have the Hapsburgs rule in as many countries as possible.

  Until he knows for certain that upon the death of the ailing three‑year‑old Sebastian it will be Prince Carlos who inherits the Portuguese throne he will have no peace.

  And then France is such a worry too. What if Portugal were to accept the offer of a French princess for Sebastian? That would never do; it would be risking outside influences, importing foreign weaknesses. Only the Hapsburgs can assure the protection of the True Faith in Europe! And here is another serious consideration; a Portuguese‑French alliance would mean the French on Spain’s western border as well as on the north.

  A Blushing Bride

  Carlos, relieved to know that he did not need to see the ambassador until later in the day, called for his usual ‘light’ refreshment.

  Quijada, after a stern look of warning, which was promptly ignored, left him chomping on slices of ham liberally spread with a compote of pomegranate, believed to ward off gout, and swilling it down with copious amounts of beer.

  Francisco and the visitors had waited for him in the corridor and they now made their way out to the gallery.

  “Samuel, José; take these gentlemen to Madame Male and say my orders are that rooms are to be prepared for them.” Quijada then turned to the priest, “I think a short turn about the garden before lunch would be an excellent idea, Francisco, what do you say?”

  “Provided I am not required to fend off further questions about Denia.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good, because I would like some information myself.”

  They walked down the stairs and stepped out into the arcade that ran along two sides of a formal garden and was completely in the shade hiding behind its stone pillars and the jasmine branches cascading from the gallery above. Garden paths led them between walnut trees and orange trees offering some shelter from the summer sun. Close by a fountain splashed its refreshing music.

  “Quite a choice of places to stroll; this is all very pleasant, Quijada. Now then, to business. I have the suspicion that my role as emissary may require more diplomacy than at first would appear, and to be forewarned is to be forearmed. So, to my query; Princess Juana often speaks of her cold reception in Portugal, she was obviously quite hurt by it. Could you enlighten me?”

  “It is because there was a decided rift between Carlos and Catalina regarding that business of the unhappiness of her daughter Maria, and although it was more than ten years ago you will have noted that Carlos is still unsure as to whether or not he has been entirely forgiven.”

  “It must have been very serious.”

  ight="0" align="justify"> “All very tragic, really; from the moment Maria set foot in Spain her happiness was drained from her. By all accounts she was a pretty young thing, with blond curly hair; and, of course, very rich. Felipe was everything a young maid could ask for; a youth with a handsome figure, good looking, fair hair, blue eyes. So, there were two fifteen‑year‑old hearts all a‑flutter! They married in Salamanca. The Duque de Alba performed a miracle in providing reasonable accommodation – you see Carlos was paying for this and as we seem to be forever living in straightened circumstances economies were called for.” “Even for his son’s wedding? The wars, I assume?”

  “Be that as it may, although the accommodation was almost commonplace the bride, bridegroom and guests made it a glittering success. The room was one huge jewellery box, ablaze with sparkling diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, pearls, as the dancers traced their steps to all the popular dances. But that was virtually the last joy the girl knew.”

  They stopped by the fountain to watch the leaping and tumbling of iridescent droplets performing dances of their own in the sunlight.

  “I know you to be a sensitive man, Quijada, so perhaps this is an exaggeration?”

  “Wait until you hear more then I shall let you be the judge. Carlos was in Austria at the time. Because of this he felt it necessary to send his written advice on the comportment of the young married couple; in effect telling them how often they should share the same bed. Unfortunately he gave the Commander of Castile the responsibility of ensuring that his advice was followed.”

  “You make it sound serious.”

  “I tell you the man took to the task with extraordinary zeal. It started on the wedding night! After the young couple had been in their bridal bed for only a short while, he strode into the bedchamber, threw back the curtains revealing the amorous newly weds and ordered Felipe off to his own room; and all this in the presence of courtiers!”

  “In the name of God, why?”

  “As a military man I would suggest he felt that the engagement was accomplished, time to retire the troops.”

  “Embarrassing!”

  “From then on it got worse; they were never allowed to be together except for public appearances, never permitted private conversations. They were allowed some time together for the purpose of providing an heir, but those occasions were kept to a minimum; Felipe’s seed had to be kept strong! Felipe, being a young man decided to find satisfaction elsewhere, and he did so with increasing regularity. When he was with Maria she spent most of the time weeping about her loneliness, her disappointments; not much company for a lusty youth. Any affection he may have felt for her was soon gone. There was no one for her to talk to – except her mother – so she poured her heart out to her in her letters telling of her distress at her husband’s coldness and infidelity, his open philandering.”

  Francisco smiled wryly, “How much of this is gossip?”

  “It is the truth, I only speak the truth. For instance, Felipe’s affair with a lady in waiting was an open secret, had been for some time before his marriage. I also saw the letters from Catalina to Carlos, and very angry letters they were, too. She was not prepared to stand by and see her daughter the victim of such cruelties. She demanded Carlos take immediate action to protect Maria. Carlos, however, decided not to interfere, believing resolutely in his philosophy of the management of visits to the matrimonial bed. He also dismissed Maria’s complaints about Felipe as nothing more than a young girl’s exaggerations. And then came the news that convinced him he was justified in allowing events to run their course; Maria was with child.”

  “So at least the girl would have something to fill her empty days, looking towards the joys of motherhood, the pride in providing an heir.”

  “Not a bit of it, it was a nightmare. After nine months of illness and bloodletting she was finally brought, in a very frail state, to her childbed. The birth was difficult, several days of labour before she was delivered, forcibly, of a baby boy, our Prince Carlos. Yes, it took terrible intrusi
ve intervention.”

  “No need to say more.”

  “Maria became seriously ill. Her Portuguese doctor was forbidden to give salt water baths to treat her infections, and then he was dismissed. That was something else to infuriate Catalina. The Spanish doctors began further bloodletting, and within days Maria was dead. She had lived in this country for two years; years of loneliness, disdain, pain and illness before her life was snuffed out; aided and abetted by incompetent quack doctors – according to Catalina.”

  “Little wonder that Princess Juana found her mother‑in‑law icy when she arrived in Portugal to marry John. She has told me that she felt as if she was being called to account for actions taken by others about which she knew nothing, being but a child at that time. So, just as I thought, there will be more of a demand for me to be the diplomat rather than merely appearing as a trusted old friend. There are some insecure bridges to be crossed. I see now why the king sounded conciliatory, using honeyed words; quite out of character for him. Well, you have given me plenty to think about; shall we go to lunch?”

  One House, One Master

  I

  Carlos handed back the letter to Gaztelu, “Perfect. You may tell the others we are ready for them now. I am impatient to know what my daughter Juana is up to.”

  “Perhaps this is a courtesy call on their way to Portugal? I expect that she is sending her condolences to her mother‑in‑law,” Gaztelu suggested crossing to the door to summon Quijada, Father Francisco, and Juana’s ambassador.

  “I hope you are right, but I have my doubts. For some reason she and her sister have always plagued me with problems. Damned nuisances the pair of them, always something not to their liking, or hoping to have their own way, instead of doing as they are told and no questions asked. Well we shall soon see what it is we have today.”