That Other Juana

by Linda Carlino

  ‘Dear Bruto,’ she called to him, ‘you darling mongrel. You may not be very handsome but you are very clever. I shall miss you and all your funny tricks.’

  Juan and Isabel came to join her with Bruto tagging along behind.

  ‘Be brave Juana,’ Isabel took her hands in hers, ‘believe me you will soon make Flanders your home.’

  ‘But I will be all alone!’

  ‘You will have a full Spanish court, almost a hundred; a small Spanish kingdom of your own!’

  Juana was not persuaded so Isabel tried once more, ‘Juana, do not be so anxious. It will not be the ordeal that you imagine. Do not be so pessimistic. I think it is unkind of you to suppose that Philip and the Flems are all monsters. And have you forgotten your romantic ideas about a happy marriage? You and a handsome young gentleman called Philip must surely meet your requirements.’

  ‘Oh, Isabel if only I could be brave. I am so frightened I think my heart is about to stop beating. Feel how it thumps wildly. Dear God, I feel ill.’

  Juan interrupted, ‘You are talking nonsense, Juana! We were just saying how we envied your strength. When have you ever been ill?’

  She was ready to protest but Juan stopped her short, ‘Never! So come now, dear sister, we will have no more of this.’

  ‘But I am ill, truly …’

  ‘This is not illness, it is a refusal to face facts,’ Juan continued, ignoring her. ‘You have no choice as to whom you wed and where you will live. There is nothing further to discuss. I must also point out that you are making everyone miserable with these melodramas, and quite a few are growing weary of it all. You know I love you dearly and do not intend to be harsh, I speak so only for your own good.’

  ‘But Juan, I thought at least you would understand.’ She was devastated, she had been confident of his support.

  ‘Dear sister, I said you had such tremendous stamina, which I have been denied.’ He raised her chin to have her look at him then teasingly played his fingers over her lower lip that she had pushed into a huge pout. ‘You also have the strength and the spirit to counter all adversities,’ he brushed aside her denials. ‘Show me the Juana who will never give up the fight. Show me.’

  She looked at him sadly. It seemed no one could understand the depth of her misery at leaving her family; of not having a single friend by her side. The ladies-in-waiting were passable enough, she supposed, but she had only accepted them with great reluctance; and as for the priests, they were not of the sort to raise anyone’s spirits. And not one tale of love, not one image of a joyful union with her handsome prince could be summoned to rid her of her desolation. Through sniffles she mumbled something about her head agreeing with everything he said, but her heart being too bruised and broken to follow suit.

  ‘God bless you.’ Holding her face in his hands, his thumbs gently smudged the tears on her cheeks then he kissed her forehead, ‘I wish you a safe journey and of course Godspeed; the sooner you arrive in Flanders the more quickly will the fleet return with my Margaret. Forgive my selfishness.’ He laughed, hugging her tenderly.

  She hugged and kissed him in return, clinging to him; it was their last embrace, she would never return to Spain.

  A sharp rapping of the chamberlain's rod halted her grief. King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel made their way across the courtyard towards Juana.

  Ferdinand drew her to him, ‘We wish you well dear child. You must always keep in mind that your duties as wife and confidante to Philip will be of the utmost importance to your parents and to Spain. We rely upon you to be steadfast in your support for our country, expecting you to take every opportunity to further her cause. Never let it be said of you that you were negligent.’

  And that was it; there was nothing more. Where were the words of warmth and affection from the father she loved?

  She whimpered, ‘You still cannot come to the port of Laredo?’

  ‘Juana you know I cannot. I have to be with my troops, my presence is imperative. I cannot shirk my duty. Duty to our country must always come first. I should be gone already, but I stole some days to say my farewells.’

  Juana sobbed into her cloak, some tears finding their way onto her father's gloved hand to settle like diamonds amongst the jewelled rings. She found her way to her mule to be assisted into the saddle by misty, tear-blurred figures. There she sat hunched, her wretchedness hidden under the large brimmed hat, willing her mother to signal their departure.

  An untidy scuffling and slithering of horseshoes and the horses and mules were off, quickly settling into a steady rhythm, taking the riders away from the castle, wresting Juana from the bosom of her family.

  ‘I will wave to you from the gallery,’ Juan called out over the clamour of clattering hooves.

  They made their way between the two huge towers guarding the Herreros gateway, leaving Almazán behind and heading for the waiting mountain pass.

  Juana bit her lip, head down, looking neither to left nor right thinking only of her hurt. It pained her that she was nothing more to her parents than a pawn in their political game of chess; how could she ever recover from the blow of that farewell scene?

  And yet in a little while she remembered Juan’s words, and she resolved that from this moment she would be more positive and assertive, after all she was no longer a child to be reprimanded or manipulated. As of now she was a woman, a princess, an archduchess, with whom the world must deal.

  She took a deep breath and straightened in the saddle glad to have been reminded of her other self. She turned to look back at the castle with the church tower clinging to it, and waved several times. Perhaps there were some figures gathered in the gallery, and perhaps one of them was Juan.

  Her spirits lifted, she looked around at the mountains through which their trail would take them. The views were astonishing with sweeping hills, one followed by another, all clad in folds of green velvet, with here and there dashes of browns, greys and purples. Juana's eyes moved upwards tracing wooded slopes, stony outcrops, cliffs and shadowy secret hollows. A fine silver ribbon of water reached down into the valley, growing wider on its fall, until finally disappearing through an iridescent veil into the bluest of lakes. Eagles soared, they dipped and dived, they rose again effortlessly. There was probably a lesson to be learned from their watchfulness, their waiting, their ability to swoop, to snatch and hold their prey with such tenacity; but she doubted she would ever have such patience.

  Chapter 4

  The port of Laredo had never known so many people, animals and ships. It had never heard such noise, had never been so busy.

  The view from the cabin window offered ever-changing scenes of comings and goings. Young boys staggered under sacks of urgent last minute supplies. Corpulent masters hurled oaths at fidgeting oxen and their carts that refused to remain still. Against the angry groaning of winches and hoists, officers bellowed out orders to their sailors below. Curses at spillages and bursts issued from everywhere. Meandering seamen, who had found the wine jugs too early, wove their drunken way amongst barrels and chests that littered the wharf, merrily slurring tuneless shanties. Soldiers whose responsibilities had yet to begin strolled about enjoying soldiers’ hearty laughter and back-slapping camaraderie.

  Juana, delighting in the hubbub and determined not to miss any of the activity, ran from one window to the next pressing close to the glass. Her cabin at the stern of this newly built galleon stood so high it made an excellent vantage point and by using the windows on all three sides she could see quite a distance both to left and to right.

  The royal party had arrived in Laredo several weeks ago but could do nothing until they had a fair wind, and this was finally promised for tomorrow, August the twenty-second, 1496, hence the frenzied activity out there.

  She stopped to look at the letter for what might be the hundredth time. It was from Philip and dated the seventh of July. It had been sent to her mother who had given it to her to keep. Yes, it was a letter from her future husband impatient for his bride. The
bold tone had annoyed the queen but it had wooed Juana. To her it spoke of a lover's desire to be with his loved one. Her heart leapt every time she read the words demanding she sail immediately or he would send the Spanish ambassador to bring her to him, for he would wait no longer.

  She kissed the letter before handing it to Zayda inviting her to read it again. The priceless treasure was then returned to her jewellery box.

  ‘Now we shall attend to these.’ Juana picked up the documents the admiral had left with her that morning. Her mother had insisted that she be involved with some of the preparations for the fleet and here was the latest and, hopefully, the last for her perusal. The other papers had been of no interest whatsoever, merely listing the types and names of ships: their tonnage, their captains, their crews, the number of soldiers and whether they were cavaliers, infantry or archers and on and on; ad infinitum, or ad nauseam, as she had remarked to her uncle, the admiral.

  Nevertheless Juana had dutifully read them, and it was reassuring to know that France would be so intimidated by the power and size of the fleet she would never dare consider military involvement. Also, it was beyond question that Philip and his countrymen would be profoundly impressed by this show of Spain’s wealth and power.

  Today’s lists were of provisions. She glanced down the neatly drawn-up columns then began reading them to the assembled council or, rather, to Zayda and one or two empty chairs. ‘Sirs, I see we have biscuits from Seville; excellent. Olive oil, yes that is important, we will certainly require olive oil. Salt-fish and dried meat; wonderful, we should never be without them. What was that? Not to your liking, Zayda? Here it says peaches, jams and flour, now that sounds much better, think of the lovely cakes, pies and fresh baked bread. Now what do we have on this sheet? Why, enough for a feast: chickens, eggs, butter and wine.’

  ‘My lady, I think we may congratulate the admiral on such fine choices to suit our palates.’

  ‘Of course, you are so right. I thank you all, gentlemen.’ She dropped the papers onto the table dusting her hands free of her duty. Not yet accustomed to the subtle motion beneath her feet she took a few timid steps out onto the deck and grasped the rail to steady herself. Zayda placed a shawl about her shoulders.

  The morning rain had given way to afternoon sunshine. A breeze toyed with flags, and pennants were curling and snaking, their colours cutting across the forest of masts and rigging that rose, fell and rocked gently in the languid swell. Juana continued to be amazed at the number of vessels. The admiral had told her that there were more than a hundred, and twenty of them were newly built this year. They all looked new with their sparkling fresh paint and varnish. The gentle deep groans of the timbers and the higher pitched moans of the hawsers were rudely interrupted by the angry screaming of ill-tempered gulls. Everything was crying and tugging to be free, impatient to seek adventure.

  She breathed in all the sights, sounds and smells, the strangeness of it all.

  A neighing and a clattering of hooves made her look back to the quay. Juan's horses, his gift to Philip, were being taken aboard a ship moored nearby. Their hooded unseeing eyes made them nervous and they fought against being moved. Servants cajoled and encouraged them on to the unsteady ramp with pats, strokes and kind words, while others held firm on strong tethering ropes. Other horses neighed out their fear as they were unceremoniously winched aboard in slings.

  ‘Poor beasts. I commiserate with them Zayda, that is exactly how I feel. I am being taken blindfold onto unsure ground; but what can we do? We must do as we are bid.’ Her eyes searched beyond the horses anxious to find her mother who ought to be on her way by now. ‘My mother is unfeeling. Here am I ready to be despatched to extend Spain’s influence westward, while she sits at her desk writing letters to England to seal the fate of my sister Catalina. It is all so callous.’

  ‘Not so, my lady. It is the way of things with royalty. Indeed any person of substance would not countenance anything other than an arranged marriage.’

  ‘It would be marvellous all the same if, instead of writing to England, she is writing to Flanders saying she has recognised her error in supposing I would make a suitable bride.’

  ‘Where would all your tales of love be then? Consigned to a fire, unwanted? And what of Philip’s letter almost in pieces with the number of times it has been opened and read, the words smudged by moist lips endlessly caressing them?’

  ‘Dear Zayda, of course you are right.’ She began to sing,

  ‘this girl who is in love

  no longer cares to sleep alone…’

  ‘How wicked of you, ma’am!’

  Chapter 5

  ‘A double tragedy ma'am,’ the Admiral of Castile, Don Fadrique, broke the silence of horrified disbelief of all those gathered along the ship's rail. They were watching the pitiful writhing of the Count of Melgar's huge Genoese galleon. The giant lumbering ship had found her way onto a sandbank and now lay twisting and heaving like an animal trapped in a snare, her sails flapping like useless broken limbs. Sailors leapt from her sides into the churning waters to swim to the awaiting safety of the surrounding smaller vessels. Others sought to launch boats from the stricken craft.

  Without taking her gaze from the drama before her Juana asked; ‘A double tragedy? What could be worse than the loss of lives and that magnificent ship after travelling so far, and through seas far worse than these?’

  It was true, they had experienced the most terrifying journey imaginable. The Bay of Biscay had been in a sour mood, the fleet mercilessly pounded by its gales and mountainous waves. The travellers were held prisoner in its howling, grey, drenching grasp, and tormented by the alarming sounds of crashing and splintering wood; captives in a world of chaos and disorder, a world of disorientation and nausea.

  Nine days later, most of the fleet had managed to limp to shelter in friendly English waters, for some the battle was lost and they were now laid to rest on the ocean bed.

  They rested for two days in Portsmouth, a welcome respite and pleasing interlude where she was feted as Princess Juana of Castile; treated as a princess in her own right and not as the daughter of the monarchs of Spain, nor as the wife of the Archduke Philip. Then blessed by the return of a favourable wind they were able to set sail once more, this part of the journey taking them up through the English Channel and on towards the Low Countries.

  Now, six days later, the voyage was finally reaching its longed-for conclusion. Land was in sight and it was only a matter of hours before anchoring and putting the weary but grateful passengers ashore. Yet it seemed that even their arrival was not to be without incident; another ship lost, and this time a major one.

  She turned to the admiral, one hand on the rail to steady herself, the other clutching at the collar of her cloak as it tugged in the wind. Her face, framed by her scarf wound securely around her head and neck, for the moment, had lost much of its fresh bloom. ‘But Don Fadrique, you still have not told me; why “A double tragedy”?’

  ‘Much of your trousseau was in that ship, and many of the jewels belonging to your courtiers. I am afraid that there will be no way of retrieving any of it, she will soon be ripped apart and sunk, her contents scattered over the sea bed.’

  ‘So, there we have it, the proud flotilla bearing the Princess of Spain has been transformed into a raggle-taggle fleet bringing a pale and sickly looking pauper with few belongings. What will Philip think when he sees this pitiful waif before him.’

  He smiled, ‘Ma'am, if you will allow, he will think you the loveliest of beings. And as for the loss, well, I am sure that it will not be long before everything is replaced by even better. It is just a sadness that it should happen now when we are so close to our haven. Aye,’ he sighed, ‘but, no matter, it cannot be undone. We will not dwell on sad events, rather let us think about how you will charm all who come to meet you. How all their eyes will feast on this sweet vision from Spain.’

  ‘Don Fadrique, you are the kindest, dearest of uncles. But for you I do not kno
w how I could have endured such a dreadful journey. And now you say just the right things to encourage me. Oh, would that you could be by my side always.’

  She had said this once before, to her brother, and now as then she knew that this could not be. This part of her uncle's task was almost completed and the next, to escort the Princess Margaret to Spain, would be all too soon; and he would be gone, lost to her forever.

  She would miss him sorely; she would miss his kind face, his merry eyes and the gentle smile in that comforting, depend-on-me beard. Who could replace such an expert chess opponent, who else could entertain her with such amusing tales, and who else could be such a caring guardian to her? No one. She reached to touch his arm, as if in doing so she could hold this moment and him forever.

  The admiral's words put paid to any wild fancies. ‘And now my Princess Juana of Castile, Archduchess of Austria, your maids are waiting. It is time to prepare for your grand reception.’

  He took her hand, held it to his lips, then let her go, watching her cross to her cabin, thinking of what might have been. He thanked God he had had the foresight before leaving England to transfer Juana from that stricken vessel yonder to this smaller galleon which was far better suited to negotiating these dangerous shallows and notorious sandbanks. She might well be amongst those even now struggling for survival, despite her earlier insistence that royal folk never drowned. She was a plucky young lady, true enough, and she would not go down without a fight, not she.

  ‘Take a hold of yourself, man,’ he wiped his eyes and blew his nose into a large handkerchief. ‘You must be getting old, indulging yourself in imaginings fit only for womenfolk. You have done the job your queen entrusted you with. So far, so good. That is enough to think on.’