Quijada’s voice cut across the scratching of Gaztelu’s pen and the ticking of the clock. “I truly fail to see the point of your behaviour today! Good gracious, if this is the way you intend to go on it is as well that you are no longer the emperor. You are acting like a spoilt child who having had his favourite toy taken from him retaliates with petulance.”
Only the clock continued its steady tread, Gaztelu’s pen remained frozen above the paper, even Carlos’s hand with its cargo of ham stopped halfway to his mouth.
“My lord,” continued Quijada, “someone must tell you, and I am the best one to do so. The rooms, no doubt, by the end of the day will show no traces of the plate, escutcheons, halberds, canopies and flags, the symbols of your glorious years as emperor; but it will be far more difficult to erase from the minds of your servants the fears that their removal will have caused. Some had thought you dying or even dead. I have tried to explain the situation to them but there is still unease and disquiet. And now you are behaving as a tyrannical ruler towards those about you who seek nothing more than to be your faithful and devoted servants earnestly desiring what is best for you. Your words and actions offend or hurt those who love you most. My lord, this simply will not do!”
“How in God’s name am I supposed to behave? And what about my feelings, how do you think I feel? My brother is emperor and he hates me, has hated me for year, even sided with my enemies. I dare you to deny it! No, you damn well dare not! You know as well as I he refused to send me help that time I desperately needed it.” Carlos began to weep.
“Granted, my lord. We are all aware that there have been some very difficult times for you. But face the facts, sire; the size, the nature, the diversity of your vast domains had to bring about a natural division. It was too unwieldy to rule on your own. You had to enlist your brother’s help years ago. And you must concede that the Germans have always been wary of Spanish power. If you are honest with yourself you will admit that it is only because of your brother’s support that the empire has remained united for as long as it has.”
“And he has taken advantage of everything! Not just for himself but for his son. My son has been left out in the cold.” Tears of abject misery rolled down his cheeks.
“My lord, you know I always speak the truth, so hear me out. Your brother is favoured by the Germans. He is one of them, he speaks their language; correct? His son Maximilian was born there, they know him, they like him; is that not also correct? The very fact that they are German has kept the empire in the hands of the family, and the Imperial Crown far removed from a French monarch’s head; true? By the way you do remember that it is an elected title and not inherited?”
Carlos glowered at him then sniffed, “I did everything for the empire, and when I asked Ferdinand to look after that side of things it was only supposed to be until he died when it should be handed on to my son Felipe.”
“Heavens above, you did not listen to me!” Quijada threw up his hands despairing. “It is not the Hapsburg family’s right to hand the crown to anyone.”
Gaztelu pushed his spectacles up onto the bridge of his nose, blinking hard. Doctor Mathys clutched his book to his breast.
But Carlos still wasn’t listening, “And my brother turned the Germans against my son. I heard their feeble complaints: that Felipe cannot speak German, that he is distant and cold; whereas the wonderful Maximilian is perfection itself. I am convinced that Ferdinand bought their votes,” he dabbed a handkerchief at his wet eyes and nose.
“Not an uncommon practice.” Quijada retorted. “Need I remind you how once you, too, bought the German princes’ votes?”
“They were damned lucky to have me as their emperor!” Carlos wagged his finger angrily.
“No one can dispute that. Why, you opened up new horizons to them. You made it possible for them to fight in the Netherlands, Italy, North Africa; and France.”
“You are so damned sarcastic. All those wars were in a good cause, and you know it. How else could we have kept the damned Turk at bay? An impossibility without the reserves of the whole empire. And I still say my poor Felipe has been left with only Spain.”
“Only Spain? You surely jest. Have we forgotten her vast domains, her wealth from the New World?”
Carlos burst into spluttering laughter, “And that blasted Pope Paul, doing me a favour at long last! Would you believe it? I never thought to see such a day. He refused to crown my brother! I like it, I like it very much! It went against his principles to put the Imperial Crown on the head of an emperor chosen by damned German Protestants. Oh, the satisfaction that gives me. Yes, I would like to remind my dear brother Ferdinand that I was crowned by a pope.”
Quijada smiled, shaking his head. Carlos would never change. He thought that a little reminiscing might continue his master’s lightened mood. “A pageant passed into history never to be forgotten; robes, cloaks and crowns encrusted with jewels, the heavens raining gold coins on the crowds. Such glorious days.”
“Forget all that; too long ago.” Carlos, determined not to be cheered, slipped back into despair. “I have allowed my brother to make a fool of me. Dear God, how I grovelled; I swallowed my pride and offered him the Netherlands if he would only return the empire to my son. I pleaded, promising him Italy in its stead. I made myself look ridiculous, and he turned a deaf ear. How he must have gloated.”
> uijada sought to comfort, “Be more positive. Felipe has Spain as we have mentioned, and it must have slipped your mind that your daughter Maria is married to Maximilian, and one day will be empress and eventually, no doubt, her son will become emperor, then her grandson. These emperors are of your blood, my lord.”
“Quijada, bless you, what would I do without you? My family! My grandchildren! Of course! And as you say Felipe does have enough to contend with. He will soon realise that he could not cope with the empire as well. Years ago, as usual, I saw beyond the short term, had the foresight to plan our family’s future; a balance of Austrian Hapsburgs and Spanish Hapsburgs. We should celebrate; ham and beer!”
Quijada shook his head.
And there you have it; everything is in perfect order after all. And all due to Carlos’s foresight!
Gaztelu, glasses back on the tip of his nose, dipped his pen in the ink, scanned what he had already written and resumed where he had left off. Doctor Mathys returned to his book. Quijada asked Male to have the servants gather in the large salon in readiness for the king who would join them in a few moments as proof that nothing had changed, and that they could rest assured that walls and fireplaces would soon have new shields and flags while some of the originals would be restored to their rightful places.
“I think you might also want all your servants to prepare for something, perhaps just a little out of the ordinary, my lord.”
“I might, might I, Quijada? And what would that be? For God’s sake, no guessing games.”
“I have news to cheer you. Doña Magdalena and the young Juan have arrived in Cuacos and will soon be coming to visit, if you so wish.”
Carlos began to weep anew, but these were sweet tears of joy.
There is no doubting it, Felipe is furious. He wanted to inherit everything from his fff. Doctr. But from what you heard Ferdinand is decidedly the best choice, with the likelihood of Maximilian to inherit, or should I say be elected? And my goodness that is a far better option than Felipe followed by his son Prince Carlos. Unimaginable; that Prince Carlos should have any power anywhere is simply too frightening to contemplate!
For good or ill from this time on there will be the Spanish Hapsburg House, and the Austrian Hapsburg House.
July
Captive Audiences
José and Samuel stood either side of the door in the large salon. The room had never been so crowded, so lively. Everyone had come: the doctor, the clockmaker, the masters of the king’s wardrobe and jewels, Regla the confessor, and the new prior along with a few favoured Brothers. Gaztelu and Male were also present with Zuñiga and Oropesa
who had ridden over from their homes that morning that they, too, could participate in the afternoon’s events.
A small group of musicians entertained them all as they stood in their small groups, buzzing with gossip; and waiting.
Along the entire length of the room ran a table heavily laden with savoury pastries, cream desserts, fruit pies and many other mouth‑watering delights.
Carlos sat straight‑backed in his chair; no hunched shoulders today. He had deliberated long and hard over which diamond and ruby brooches should be pinned to his bonnet and jerkin, determined to look his best; and of course there was his huge gold chain with the Golden Fleece laid over his shoulders. There was a jovial sparkle to his rheumy eyes, and a smile lifted the lines around his mouth as he listened to the music, music which he had taken such painstaking care in choosing; nostalgic music recalling those exciting years fighting for Christianity, for the empire, for Spain, for his pride. These were the songs of trampling the miserable enemy underfoot, triumphal marching and vengeful punishments, and finally those of the celebratory feasting as soldiers made war on bottles of wine and demolished sides of beef and whole hams.
José whispered across the space that separated them, “I tell you what Sam, we’re in for a really interestin’ afternoon.”
“You’re right an’ all there José. What a change, eh? We finally get to see the two folk as what we’ve ’eard of for months. It’s cheered the old king up no end. I mean, look at him. It must be ages since he looked this good.”
“Aye, since Don Luis Quijada said as how he was definitely bringin’ his wife and his lad the old feller’s never looked back, ’as he?”
“Although, I’ll tell you something,” José checked that no one was within earshot, “this lad what Quijada’s taken on has got me thinking, you know; whose kid do you reckon he is? He might be Felipe’s, they say as he’s always ’aving a bit on the side, like. What do you think?”
Samuel grinned, “You’re askin’ me? You’re the one with all the brains. You’re supposed to be comin’ up with all the answers.”
“He might be his and I’ll tell you for why. This person what we’re going to see was just a village lad like you and me, right, till the day he goes to live with Quijada and he changes, all of a sudden like, into a little gentleman. Now does that sound like he’s a ordinary kind of kid? Smacks more of royalty to me.”
“Heck, by that reckoning he could be,” Samuel’s eyes grew large with wonder, “José; you don’t think the old king himself is the …?”
“Now that’s just plain stupid. You get worse, have you learned nowt from me? The king wouldn’t have dumped him in a village, all his kids got settled somewhere rich, well, except for that one what got put away in that convent, and that would take a bit of paying for. Now, let’s put our thinking caps on; we has to remember that this kid was born in Germany. Who was there at the time?”
“He might well be Felipe’s, then, ’cause he was over there somewhere so Alonso says. Hell’s teeth! I’ve just had a thought! He is probably Quijada’s kid and Quijada’s just pretending to look after him for someone else, and it’s a lie he’s doin’ somebody a favour. He was there, José.”
“Sam you never cease to amaze me. Now honestly, can you just see Don Luis fooling aound? He’s just not that kind of chap.”
“What kind d’you have to be then? I thought all chaps, given a chance … Still don’t answer the question as how come the kid ended up living with them peasants.”
“They wasn’t peasants, Sam, the kid was living with a musician feller and his wife.”
“Beats me, it does. Hey up, there’s somebody comin’, I can hear their voices. It’s them, José. Here we go.”
We are all going to be treated to a very different afternoon, not only José and Samuel, but the guests too; but most of all Carlos.
The music ceased. All conversations stopped, all attention was centred on the small group who had entered. Quijada, proudly wearing new lace cuffs and collar, made entirely by his wife, led his little family into the room. Madame Male followed enjoying her role for the afternoon of official attendant to the beautiful guest of honour, Doña Magdalena.
Quijada approached Carlos and bowed, “Sire, Doña Magdalena de Ulloa and the child Don Juan await the pleasure of your granting them an audience.”
Carlos knitted his brow then laughed, “You are so damned formal! I am too old, too impatient for such games. Bring your good lady wife over here to me.”
Every eye was upon her, the dark haired Doña Magdalena in her mulberry coloured brocade dress, tall and slender, possessing loveliness never before witnessed within these walls of Yuste. No one was left untouched by her natural elegance, the dignity in her step, the grace and ease of her three deep curtsies.
“Your majesty I am deeply honoured,” her voice fell on their ears like divine music.
“Dear lady the honour is all mine. Quijada, I see now why you always wanted to be up and away from here. I would too. Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, if you will excuse an old gentleman’s boldness, matell you that you are the most beautiful lady I have seen in many a year; and you, Quijada, keeping her out of our sight, holding this charming secret from us all! But at last we have you here with us. I thank God that he managed to arrange everything so that you could live in Cuacos. I hope everything is to your liking.”
“We are gradually making it our home, although I do admit to missing the castle in Villagarcía where there was so much space and light. To be with my husband, however, is far more important than where we live.”
Carlos studied Magdalena, a lady descended from the most powerful of families, the Ulloas, Osorios, and Toledos, who was prepared to make such a huge sacrifice. “Excellent sentiments, ma’am; how lucky of Quijada to have someone like you to care so much. And let me tell you, he is a changed man ever since you arrived. He was often grumpy and sour, even unkind to me on occasions; a bully, ma’am.”
Doña Magdalena’s brown eyes widened amazed that her husband should dare.
“I tease you dear lady, you were not to know that your husband and I are like brothers. But come closer for I want a quiet word. Come, sit by me.” He pointed to a chair at his side then motioned to the musicians, “More music, please.”
A recorder, harp and viola de gamba accompanied a small group of singers as they sang first of new dawns and new loves, then of a heart’s longing to be taken captive, then for a soul to be governed, and another of the joy of a kiss that seals a vow. They were all Barbara’s songs; today Carlos was intent on fully indulging himself.
Carlos leaned towards Magdalena, “How do you feel about the boy; his being brought into your life?”
“Your majesty I love him dearly. He is everything I could ever have wished for, prayed for. Perhaps it is difficult for men to understand the desperate longing of a childless mother, the deep emptiness hungry to be filled. My heart aches for the lady in the village who had to part with him, but I thank God that He gave him to me; and he is a good child.”
“A good child. Tell me more.”
“He is a clever child and learns easily, although, like many a boy he is not always eager to go to his studies,” she smiled. “His reading and writing are progressing well, due mostly to the writings of Don Luis de Zuñiga y Avila and not to his primer; war stories are far more inspirational than prayers or texts. His Latin continues at a comparatively slower pace as a consequence although my chaplain is more than satisfied. I have noticed a marked improvement in his French and also his lute and vihuela playing.” Now she laughed nervously, “Forgive me, that was not what I had intended saying. I sound like one of his tutors making his report. Your majesty everyone in our home loves the boy for his gentle manners, his consideration, for his constant openness and honesty. As for the rest, I am sure my husband has kept you informed of Juan’s delight in riding, fencing, hunting …” Magdalena stopped; everything had tumbled out so quickly; had she been fair to the boy, had she omitted anything, had she sa
id too much, had she been too eager to impress?
“And you, what of you Doña Magdalena? Tell me, might it not prove too heavy a charge on your feelings, not knowing the boy’s background, his parentage? Be honest with me.”
She swallowed hard, “My lord, I must admit to you that I have had moments of suspicion, and yes, of jealousy. May God forgive me.”
“Ah, I wondered.”
“For some time it was difficult for me to accept the boy given no explanation other than that he was the son of an eminent man, a dear friend of my husband, and that I was to care for the child as though he were my own. I have always known my husband to be honest in everything he does. There is none to better him, and I do have every trust in him, and yet I am ashamed to confess to being overcome by doubts and fears, suspecting there was some truth he was hiding from me, something too dreadful for me to bear. And then there was the fire …”
“Good God in Heaven!”
She smiled to dispel his alarm, “It was a few years ago and Juan had not been long with us. It was not as serious as the servants first supposed; a minor incident as it turned out, but the alarm had been raised. My husband burst into my bed chamber, snatched up Juan from his truckle bed and rushed with him from the building. It was not until he had him safely in his squire’s keeping that he returned for me. What was I to think? Why was the child more important than me? That prompted me to remember his fury regarding the child’s circumstances with the musician’s family, to remember some letters he concealed and would never discuss. Was the child really his? I had to tell my confessor of my fears.”
A Matter of Pride Page 28