by Jean Plaidy
“I do not understand…” began Elvira, but for once she was trembling. The success of her venture depended entirely on its seeming innocence. The meeting for which she had planned must appear to have been brought about through Katharine and Juana. She understood her danger if Ferdinand were informed that she had played a part in it.
“There is little time to lose,” said Puebla. “In less than five minutes Esquivel will be on his way to Richmond.”
Doña Elvira made a quick decision. “I will go down at once and tell him that he must not take the letter to the King.”
Puebla, who was sweating with the excitement and dismay of those moments, now relaxed.
She understood the danger to herself and her family. She had not only her own but her family’s future to think of. She would not want it known that Juan Manuel had played his part in this; and although Ferdinand had been weakened by the death of Isabella, he was still a power in Spain, and it might be that he would act as Regent for Juana and Philip, who must necessarily spend a certain time in their other dominions.
Elvira knew very well that she was playing a dangerous game.
She went down to the courtyard, while Puebla watched from a window. Katharine had given the chamberlain her letter with instructions to ride to Richmond with all speed, and had returned to the house.
That made Elvira’s task more easy. Puebla watched her take the letter from the chamberlain; he saw the look of surprise on the man’s face as the horse was led back to the stables.
The ambassador sighed with relief. A chance meeting with the Infanta had diverted a catastrophe. He felt exhausted. He would return immediately to his lodgings in the Strand and there rest awhile.
I am too old for such alarms, he told himself.
As he came out of Durham House his servant, who had been waiting for him, came hurriedly to his side, surprised to see his master so weary.
Puebla was about to start on his way when he stopped abruptly. “Wait here,” he said. “If you should see Don Alonso de Esquivel ride off in some haste towards Richmond lose no time in coming straight to me.”
He then made his way to his lodging. He did not trust Elvira. He had always known that the woman sent adverse reports of him to Isabella, and was doubtless doing so to Ferdinand. He had an inkling that she might attempt to thwart him even now that he was aware of her duplicity.
He was right.
He had not been in his lodgings very long when his servant came panting into his presence, to tell him that the chamberlain had, very soon after the departure of Dr. de Puebla from Durham House, set off in the direction of Richmond, riding at great speed.
Puebla was horrified. He should have foreseen this.
The mischief was done. The King was being offered what was tantamount to an invitation to meet Philip and Juana; if he accepted, months of diplomacy were ruined.
He could not prevent Katharine’s letter from reaching the King, but he could at least warn Katharine of the part she had been inveigled into playing. Then perhaps he could warn the King of the unreliable character of the Archduke Philip.
He had no time to form elaborate plans. He must act with speed. Of one thing he could be certain: The Infanta was completely loyal to her own family; if she knew that she had been used in a plot against her father, she would be horrified.
He lost no time in returning to Durham House, and there burst unceremoniously into the presence of the Infanta.
Katharine was with some of her maids of honor and, when he stammered out the plea that he speak to her alone, she was so shocked by his distress that she immediately agreed that he should do so.
As soon as they were alone he said: “Highness, you are the victim of a plot against your father.” He then explained how for months the Castilian faction in Brussels had been working to bring about a meeting between Henry of England and her brother-in-law, Philip.
“You must understand, Highness, that your brother-in-law is no friend of your father. He seeks to take from him all the power he has in Castile and relegate him solely to the affairs of Aragon. You know how distressed your mother would be if she could know what is happening now. In her will she asks that in the absence or incapacity of your sister Juana, your father should be sole regent of Castile until the majority of her grandson Charles. Philip is determined to increase the discord and distrust between your father and the King of England. He will seek to make a pact with him against your father. Doña Elvira’s brother, Don Juan Manuel, is the leader in this plot. It is for this reason that she has urged you to help bring about this meeting.”
Katharine was staring at the ambassador in horror. She was remembering how Doña Elvira had commiserated with her, how she had urged her to write to Juana. So she and Juana were being used by their father’s enemies! Katharine thought of her mother, who had always stood firmly beside her father. How shocked and horrified she would be at the idea of her daughters’ working with their father’s enemies.
She was trembling as she said: “I believe what you say. I see that I have been their dupe. What can I do now?”
Puebla shook his head sadly, for he had realized that there was nothing now to be done. The King would receive the letter from his daughter-in-law, enclosing that from Juana. It was entirely in his hands whether or not that invitation would be accepted.
“At least, Highness,” he said, “you know your duenna for the scheming woman she is. With your leave I will retire now. I shall go with all speed to Richmond, and there I shall try to use my influence with the King to avoid this meeting.”
HENRY WAS STUDYING the letter from Katharine and that from Juana.
To cross to Saint-Omer, to meet the heir of Isabella and her husband! Perhaps to make the arrangements for those alliances which he coveted? Philip would have the backing of his father, Maximilian, and if they could come to some agreement it might mean that he would have his bride in England soon. Maximilian’s daughter, a beautiful young woman, though twice widowed…. They could get children. He was very eager to have a bride for himself and those alliances for his family. Charles, the heir of the Hapsburgs and of Isabella and Ferdinand, would be the richest monarch in Europe when he came of age. Little Mary was the bride for him. And Eleanor, the daughter of Philip and Juana, would do very well for young Henry. All this could be arranged if he met Philip and Juana.
They would want something in exchange—promises of help, doubtless, against Ferdinand, because there would certainly be trouble in Castile between Ferdinand and Philip. It was easy to make promises.
A meeting was desirable, but it would be expensive; a King could not travel abroad in modesty; that gave an impression of poverty and would not be wise. He did not like travel; he was getting too old, and his limbs were often so stiff when he arose in the mornings that he could scarcely put his feet to the ground. Yet those alliances were what his family needed.
Puebla was announced, and the ambassador, when he entered and stood before the King, was clearly distraught.
“You look disturbed,” said Henry.
Puebla, feeling the situation to be too dangerous for subterfuge, explained in detail how Doña Elvira had used Katharine to suggest this meeting.
“Well, are the means so important?”
“Your Grace, the Spanish situation is fluid…very fluid. There is so much treachery involved in this that it is difficult to know who is one’s friend, who one’s foe. There are the two rival factions in Brussels. How can you know who it is who have arranged this meeting? Is it your friends? Is it your enemies? A King is vulnerable when he leaves his own shores. Philip is as wayward as thistledown. He will sway this way and that. He does not keep his promises if the whim takes him to break them. You would be ill advised to take this suggestion of a meeting seriously.”
The King was thoughtful. There was spying and counterspying in all countries, he knew, but the Spanish situation at this time was certainly dangerous.
He knew Philip for a pleasure-loving young man whose polit
ical ambitions waxed and waned. Ferdinand he looked upon as a rogue, but at least he and Ferdinand were of a kind.
“I will consider this matter,” he said, and Puebla’s spirits rose.
He did not believe that Henry would make that journey. Clearly he was dreading it. Crossing the Channel could be hazardous, and if he suffered even a slight wetting he could be sure that his rheumatism would be the worse for it.
Henry was thinking that this meeting, plotted by women, was perhaps not the wisest course at this time. What if Philip had no wish to see him? What if it should turn out to be a reunion of Katharine and her sister merely? He shuddered to think of the expense that would be involved, the money wasted.
“I will ponder on this,” he said.
AT THE WINDOW of her apartments at Durham House, Katharine sat for a long time looking out. Puebla had gone to Richmond and would now be with the King.
Katharine was deeply shocked. She could not free her mind of the memory of her mother’s face. Isabella had been at her happiest when she had her family about her. Katharine could remember those occasions when the family sat with her, the girls at their needlework, Juan reading to them; then perhaps Ferdinand would join them, and her mother’s face would take on that look of serene contentment she loved to recall.
Now they were scattered. Her brother Juan and sister Isabella were dead, Maria was the Queen of Portugal, Juana the wife of Philip and she herself in England; and here in England she had become involved in a plot against her father.
Her horror gave place to anger. She forgot that her father had never loved her in the same tender way in which her mother had; she forgot how pleased he had been to send her to England. She thought of him only as the father who had joined their family group and added to her mother’s happiness. Ferdinand was her father. Her mother would always have her remember that. There had been times when Isabella deferred to Ferdinand; that was when she was reminding them all that he was their father. At such times she forgot that she was the Queen of Castile and he merely the King of Aragon. Where the family was concerned he, Ferdinand, was the head.
And Doña Elvira had tricked her into working against her own father! Katharine stood up. She could not see her reflection or she would have noticed that a change had come over her. She held her head higher, and her shabby gown could not hide the fact that she was a Princess in her own household. She had ceased to be the neglected widow; she was the daughter of Isabella of Castile.
She called to one of her maids and said: “Tell Doña Elvira that I wish to see her without delay.”
Her tone was peremptory and the girl looked at her in astonishment; but Katharine was unaware of the glance. She was thinking of what she was going to say to Doña Elvira.
Elvira came in, gave the rather curt little bow which was her custom, and then, as she looked into the Infanta’s face, she saw the change there.
“I sent for you,” said Katharine, “to tell you that I understand full well why you persuaded me to write to my sister.”
“Why, Highness, I knew you wished to see your sister, and it seemed shameful that you should live here as you do…”
“Pray be silent,” said Katharine coldly. “I know that your brother, Don Juan Manuel, plots against my father in Brussels and has persuaded you to help him here in Durham House.”
“Highness…”
“Pray do not interrupt me. You forget to whom you speak.”
Elvira gasped in amazement. Never before had Katharine spoken to her in that manner. She knew that Puebla had betrayed her to Katharine, but she had been confident that she could continue to rule Durham House.
“I do not wish,” said Katharine, “to have here with me in England servants whom I do not trust.”
“What are you saying…?” Elvira began in the old hectoring manner.
“That I am dismissing you.”
“You…dismissing me! Highness, your mother appointed me.”
It was a mistake. Elvira realized it as soon as she had mentioned Isabella. Katharine’s face was a shade paler, but her eyes flashed in a new anger.
“Had my mother known that you would plot against my father, you would have spent these last years behind prison walls. It is where you should be. But I will be lenient. You will prepare to leave Durham House and England at once.”
“This is quite impossible.”
“It shall be possible. I will not send you back to my father with an explanation of your conduct. I will spare you that. But since you are so eager to help your brother in Brussels you may go there.”
Elvira tried to summon all the old truculence, but it had deserted her.
“You may go now,” continued Katharine. “Make your preparations with all speed, for I will not suffer you for a day longer than I need under this roof.”
Elvira knew that protest was useless. If she attempted to assert her authority, Katharine would expose the part she had been playing in her brother’s schemes.
It was hard for a proud woman to accept such defeat.
She bowed and, without another word, left the presence of the Infanta.
Katharine was shaken, but she felt exultant.
For so long she had been, not so much the prisoner of Durham House, as the prisoner of Doña Elvira. Now she was free.
Juana in England
KATHARINE HAD BEGUN TO WONDER WHOM SHE COULD trust, for when her anger against Doña Elvira had subsided she realized how shocked she had been by the duenna’s duplicity.
Maria de Rojas was steeped in melancholy. Yet another marriage which had been planned for her was not to take place because Iñigo had departed with his mother.
It was true that the household was free of the tyranny of Doña Elvira, but poverty remained.
Katharine summoned Puebla to her, and he came limping into her presence. He was growing old and shocks such as that which he had sustained seemed to add years to his age in a few weeks.
In her newly found independence Katharine spoke boldly.
“This situation cannot go on. I must have some means of supporting my household. I am the daughter-in-law of the King of England and I think that you, as my father’s ambassador, should bestir yourself and do something about it.”
Puebla spread his hands helplessly.
“You should go to the King,” went on Katharine, “and speak boldly to him. Tell him that it is a disgrace to his name that he allows me to live in this way.”
“I will do my best, Highness,” answered Puebla.
He shuffled out of the apartment, not relishing his task and yet agreeing with Katharine that she could not continue in such penury for much longer.
He sought audience with the King.
Henry was still brooding on the suggested meeting with Philip and Juana. Perhaps in the spring or the summer…he had been thinking, for the prospect of the damp seeping into his bones alarmed him. It would be disastrous if he became completely crippled. It seemed so ridiculous that he could not get himself a bride. Yet it was not easy for Kings to find suitable partners. So many qualifications were necessary in a Queen.
He frowned at Puebla as he came in, but he listened quietly while the ambassador laid before him Katharine’s complaint.
Henry nodded gravely. “It is true,” he said, “that Durham House must be an expensive household to manage. I am sorry for the Infanta. I will help her.”
Puebla’s face lighted up with pleasure.
“She shall give up Durham House,” went on Henry, “and come to Court. I am sure, when she no longer has such a large establishment to support, she will live more comfortably.”
Puebla thanked the King, but he was dubious as he went back to Durham House, being unsure how Katharine would receive this news. He knew that with an adequate allowance and without Doña Elvira life at Durham House might be quite pleasant; and it was this allowance for which Katharine had hoped; but if she went to Court she would be under supervision as strict as that of Doña Elvira.
He was right. Katha
rine was far from pleased.
She looked at the shabby little man and was filled with disgust. This man…an ambassador from that country which she had always been taught was the greatest in the world! How could she hope to be treated with respect, how could she possibly retain her dignity when her father’s representative in England was this little marrano!
She spoke coldly to him. “I see that my position has changed very little for the better. Sometimes I wonder whether you work more for the King of England than for the King of Spain.”
Puebla was deeply wounded. How could she understand the intricacies of state policies? How could she realize the dangerous and difficult game he must continually play?
It seemed to be his fate in life to be misunderstood, to be scorned by those to whom he gave his services.
Katharine was thinking as he left her: Was Doña Elvira really spying for her brother, or did Puebla, with diabolical cunning, contrive the whole situation in order to have Elvira removed? Was the King of England behind the scheme? Did he wish to close Durham House, to bring her to Court where many might gloat over her poverty and the indignity of her position? Whom could one trust?
THERE WAS NEWS from Spain which shocked Katharine.
Her father was proposing to marry again.
Katharine was so disturbed that she shut herself in her apartments and told her maids of honor that she must be left alone. Kings remarried speedily when they lost their Queens; she knew that. It was a continual need of Kings to get heirs. But this seemed different. There would be someone to take the place of Isabella of Castile, and in Katharine’s eyes this was sacrilege.
Moreover her father proposed to marry a young girl of eighteen.
She was very beautiful, rumor said; and that hurt Katharine even more. She thought of her father, showering caresses on a beautiful young girl, and she pictured her mother, looking down from Heaven in sorrow.
Nonsense! she admonished herself. It is a political marriage.