And still he went on! ‘Meanwhile Busleyden and de Veyre will go to Spain as our ambassadors …’
Juana was already in such a wretched turmoil over the proposed marriage treaty that when she heard the name Busleyden cited as an ambassador she rounded on Philip, ‘You do not know what you are considering, do you? Have you taken leave of your senses? That you could knowingly hand over all that power and wealth into French hands lies beyond any sane person's comprehension!’ Her words came as a volley from enemy arquebuses, her burning eyes reinforced the attack; that other Juana was in control. ‘And, my lord, I wonder how you would dare send someone so openly hostile to the Spanish Court. Is this your idea of diplomacy? Can you not see the transparency of the insult or is that beyond your capabilities?’ She wagged an angry finger at him, ‘I will tell you this; I will not be party to any marriage treaty with France. You will never have my signature. Nor will I set my seal upon a recommendation for two men who have consistently harboured ill will against Spain.’
His hand came down hard across her cheek, ‘Do not tell me what you will or will not do!’ He barely paused as she crumpled at his feet, her fingers comforting the stinging pain, ‘However, do give this some serious thought before making any final decisions. While I would obviously prefer your cooperation I do not need your signature on any document. In the first place I am the Archduke of Austria; second, I am the Prince of Asturias, the heir apparent of Spain. May I remind you that you are nothing more than my wife and it would be more than generous of me to allow you to put your name to anything.’
He turned on his heel and walked away.
It took but moments and a few deep breaths of undaunted determination for Juana to rise to her feet. Well might she be no more than a chattel in Flanders, but Philip was misguided if he thought that in Spain she would serve as nothing other than wife. He, and his counsellors much to their cost, would learn very soon that it was she who was heir; the Cortes of Castile and Aragón would make it abundantly clear that she was to be queen and Philip the king consort.
Now she would send for Zayda to soothe her painful cheek with one of her special balms.
Chapter 14
‘Voila un beau prince.’
The patronising voice made Juana want to retch. She imagined the scene in the French king's throne room; Philip, his three obligatory bows of homage with the required five steps between, moving slowly towards the dais where King Louis, his Burgundian overlord, sat watching with glorious satisfaction.
And Philip would fail to see that each time he humbled himself he emphasised his position as the king’s vassal, encouraging Louis to use him to further his own cause.
Philip and his closest counsellors had been led directly into the king’s presence. Juana and Fonseca watched them strutting as they went; vain peacocks resplendent in their velvets, satins and jewels.
‘See how they swagger?’ she had whispered, ‘and they are penniless, desperately hoping to have a share of Philip’s future wealth.’
Juana sat in an ante chamber awaiting her turn to be presented. It had been this way for the whole of their journey through France. Her status as Princess of Castile and, more importantly, the true and lawful heiress of all Spain had never been recognised. It was Philip who was feted. Not once had they afforded her the respect and honour that was her right.
She leapt from her chair shaking with indignation, muttering to the Bishop of Córdoba, her companion for the long journey to Spain. ‘I will not tolerate this much longer. Philip is so stupid. Does he not see that he is playing into Louis's hands? And has he forgotten that this is the country where his sister Margaret was held prisoner for years after the French reneged on her marriage contract? How can he have any truck with them at all after that? My God, there are times when he appears to have no brain whatsoever!’ Her voice hardened, ‘I tell you this, they will see how I, a princess with Spanish pride will present herself to this French king.’
Fonseca, Bishop of Córdoba, invited her to walk with him to the other side of the room distancing her now loud voice from her ladies and anyone else who might overhear. It would give him time to quiet her.
Queen Isabel had sent Fonseca to Flanders because she had heard that Philip proposed to travel alone to take the oath of succession despite his contempt for Spain. Isabel was insistent that Juana must make the journey too, after all she was the future queen, with Philip no more than consort. She further suggested that only Juana’s attendance was required at the ceremony. This was firmly rejected by Philip's counsellors.
Within days of Fonseca’s arrival with Isabel’s despatch he discovered that Philip was making no secret of the fact that he had as much desire to go to Hell as to go to Spain. He saw that Juana was being denied all respect, suffering many indignities. He was alarmed at the power that Chimay and Busleyden had over the archduke. As for the rest of Philip’s court he found them despicable, and that was the most charitable observation he could make. His brief to hasten the departure of Juana and Philip had been difficult, but finally successful.
In the intervening months he had been Juana's Chaplain, adviser and friend; and had also helped her to rebuild her pride and dignity. He offered her understanding and guidance in learning to manage her anger, supported her against hurt and injustice. Now once again he had come to her rescue offering his arm to accompany her in a calming stroll.
As they walked she unburdened herself as though in the confessional, ‘What has become of me? Philip strikes me as though I were a common serving wench. I realise now that he has no love for me. He has fooled me for the last time, never again. How well I remember that day. I had been ill for several days after our dreadful row over this journey. He visited me in my darkened haven of peace. He came whispering honeyed words against my cheeks about making amends, saying he would come to my rooms later and we could dine together and then we could … that was sufficient for me. The curtains were thrown back, the shutters opened, the sun poured in waking up the silver bowls and plate, making motes dart to and fro in a glorious dance. Zayda, singing songs of love, prepared a bath, washed my hair and wrapped it in a perfumed towel. The air was heavy with the scent of musk and oranges. That night Philip and I were in each others arms again … but, you see bishop, the truth is he came to my bed not because he loved me but because he was advised to. It was a precaution against my mother’s insisting on my presence only. His counsellors were afraid! And, we have another child. I pray God keeps her and her brother and sister safe in Margaret of York’s hands.’
It had torn at her heart to say goodbye to her precious little ones; Leonor was only three years old, Charles eighteen months and baby Isabel just three months. Her mother so desperately wanted to see them, but Philip was persuaded that she would find some way to keep them in Spain, especially Charles, to ensure he was raised a true Spaniard with Spain's interests at heart.
After a moment or two she looked up at Fonseca. She could probably never thank him enough for helping her get well again. Philip’s contemptuous use of her, the undisguised hatred of the Flems, Philip’s sister gone to Savoy, her pregnancy, all had combined to make her ill. She had fainting bouts; she spent days in her rooms wrapped up in her misery with the curtains drawn to hide her from the light. The bishop’s patience had been tireless.
‘Your company on the journey has been a blessing. I am only sorry that I have no Spanish gentlemen courtiers to ride with you in my retinue but the archduke refused my request. You have been left with only ladies. You must find it very dull at times.’
‘Not at all, ma'am, it has been a pleasure and privilege to ride with you. And it stirs the pride in my old bones riding behind the banners of Castile.’
The train of Juana and Philip was enormous. There were more than three hundred attendants. Juana, flanked by the waving pennants with their proud lions and castles, rode at the head of her retinue of forty ladies. Behind the riders stretched an endless line of heavy carts. They lumbered along creaking and groaning under th
e weight of furniture, kitchenware, tapestries, gold and silver dining services; everything that was necessary for the journey.
A guard of hundreds was sent by Louis to meet them at the French border. Juana had definitely feared the worst when this multitude of pikemen and archers galloped towards them.
The enormous cavalcade had made its way slowly through France and a few hours ago arrived at Blois, the birthplace and now the court of Louis. This evening a torch lit procession of hundreds of soldiers and pages had escorted them through dark and cold December streets.
‘Ecce quam bonum et quam jocundum est habitare reges et principes in unum,’ boomed a voice from the throne room.
Juana and Fonseca exchanged grins, ‘Indeed, “How good and joyous it is that kings and princes live in unity”, especially if you are the king and have the prince at your feet.’
‘Precisely. But once we are in Spain, you will see it will be very different. A few lessons from the Catholic Monarchs and the archduke will understand everything. And when the time comes Spain will be safe in your hands. You and Spanish ministers will steady Philip.’
‘I thank you for your confidence. I shall see to it that when I do assume that awful role, you will be one of my chief counsellors.’
He kissed her hand and bowed his gratitude.
The Duchess of Bourbon approached, she was to escort Juana into the king's presence.
Juana's ladies gave some last minute attention to her Flanders style décolleté dress; the fall of the blue velvet skirts, the satin-lined sleeves, the puffed chemise sleeves gathered into a cuff at the wrists, the low-cut bodice that flattered her milk-white shoulders, neck and bosom. A final inspection of the ropes of pearls with amethyst and diamond flowers braided into her hair and she was ready.
The Duchess led the way, Fonseca taking his position slightly behind Juana on her right.
Once inside the throne room she paused astonished at its splendour. Huge chandeliers suspended from silver chains and bearing countless candles cast their light over white and gold wall hangings, crimson curtains, enormous mirrors, velvet cushioned chairs and stools. Pike men’s breastplates and helmets shone boldly. The robes and sparkling jewels of the courtiers completed a picture of consummate wealth, and how unlike that other throne room in Madrid that she had once considered so awesome.
But this was now! She made a deep curtsey and with head held high she moved slowly towards Louis taking pleasure from the gasps of amazement; Zayda had said that this would be quite a surprise for the French following the rampant malicious rumours about her.
King Louis came towards her, his arms outstretched in welcome. He was a veritable mountain of crimson velvets. He drew her to him and she, remembering Fonseca’s council on French etiquette braced herself for the event, thinking how disgusted her mother would be were she to witness such impropriety. Two wet kisses were planted on her cheeks by very fat and very moist lips. He stood back and beamed.
So, this was the “Lord and Master”. This was the person Philip would “serve until death to procure his good and avoid his hurt”. He was a flabby forty year old, and were it not for his fine clothes he would be mistaken for a merchant, perhaps even a tradesman. The nose and chin were bulbous and the large mouth, that huge mouth that had kissed her, had thick lips. His hair was poor, sparse, and reluctant to curl under as fashion demanded. There were probably many to be thanked, even rewarded, for their endeavours to make this heap of flesh look like a king.
‘Welcome, welcome, noble princess. We hope you will make your home with us for many days.’
Juana thought she would rather not, despite the warmest of welcomes at the home of her fellow countryman, the Count of Cabra, where she was lodging. She wanted to be on her way.
‘Her majesty, my dearest wife, will provide many diversions. Alas, the archduke and I must occupy ourselves with the serious burdens of state; with some time, of course, for sport and recreation,’ and he poured his fat, ugly smile on her. ‘But you must meet the queen and our little princess. Duchess, escort the Princess Juana.’
Anger flooded her. She was to be pushed to one side again. That Philip would still dare discuss anything without her was too preposterous. Her eyes challenged Philip but he looked away. A firm hand, that of the duchess, pressed on her elbow telling her she was dismissed. Juana shrugged it away, deliberately taking her time to curtsey, before following her. She would not be rushed!
The walls of the queen’s apartments were hung with cloth of gold and white damask; there were heavy red curtains and drapes; chairs and stools were furnished with green velvet cushions. Ana of Brittany, queen of France, was seated on her chair of state under a canopy of red velvet; her ladies-in-waiting were grouped at either side of her throne.
The scene had been set meticulously to make this visitor feel lowly. But Juana had a mission. Spain relied on her. She advanced to the dais to curtsey as protocol demanded when the hand of the Duchess once more appeared, this time grasping her by the forearm, pushing her to her knees, reminding her she was no more than the wife of a vassal.
Juana breathed very slowly. She would be patient. Her time would come; one day she would be a queen, queen of a country far more powerful than France. Taking a moment to calm herself she then rose.
This was not going to be an easy visit. How was she going to survive the next few days, or however long her husband decided they were going to remain here? There would be the constant torment of suspecting Louis of conspiring against Spain with Philip only too willing to serve his master like some loyal dog. She meanwhile would be in the company of ladies who would be either intensely boring or seeking the attentions of her husband. She was not going to be happy. Her hand rose involuntarily to her brow.
‘Ladies,’ the queen clapped her hands, ‘before it becomes too late we must bring our darling Princess Claudia to meet her mother-in-law.’
Juana dug her fingernails deep into her palms and forced a smile.
The child was brought to her, a tiny bundle of white silk skirts all ribbons and bows, a frothing of frills and lace, festooned with amulets. Claudia, this little creature, was the cause of such discord between Spain, Flanders and Austria. This tiny thing at her feet who was contracted to marry their son Charles had ignited such a fierce argument between her and Philip.
As she looked down at this innocent, unable to find any affection for it, the child gave out a great howl and set itself to scream and bawl burying its little red face amongst the skirts of its nurse.
‘This is most disturbing. Princess Claudia has never behaved so before.’ Queen Ana, angry that her moment of glory should be so short-lived, hastened the departure of her daughter. Her little showpiece princess, destined for such riches and the key to vast wealth for France, had become nothing more than a mixture of blubbering mouth, snotty nose and wet cheeks.
Juana raised her hands seeking forgiveness for the infant, ‘Do not concern yourself, ma'am. I have three children of my own and I well understand these things. But I see you are upset. With your permission I shall retire.’
Without waiting for a reply she curtsied, and walked from the room thanking Claudia for her timely outburst, for a moment quite liking her.
Chapter 15
Maria combed and braided Juana’s hair, as she sat stroking the red velvet handle of her clothes brush indulging herself in reveries of her beloved Toledo where she longed to be.
It was Monday and they were all going to church; again.
‘How often have we attended church since we arrived? I shall tell you. We went twice on Wednesday then once on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Yesterday we attended the wedding of some marquis or other and today, as a special treat, I must attend a solemn mass; and always with these silly women. Every day it is the same; go to church, return to listen to idle gossip, dine with them and listen to more of the same. I am so weary of being cooped up with these cackling hens.’
She threw down her brush and began stabbing at a pincushion with one
of her jewelled pins, ‘Dear God what a senseless delay, such time wasting; every day puts us deeper into winter.’
Maria had finished and Juana studied herself in the mirror, a proud young woman in a dark green brocade dress in the French style. The red lining showing through the slashed sleeves matched her floor-length mantle and her soft leather buskins. She nodded her approval.
‘The bishop is waiting, my lady.’
‘Good, then please send him in.’
‘Your majesty.’ He closed the door behind him and bowed.
‘Ah, Fonseca, I needed to see you as soon as possible; I did not sleep well last night.’
‘I hope I am not the cause, and that you are not angry with me for yesterday.’
‘Angry? You probably saved me from choking when you slapped me on the back. I will never, ever, eat another damnable French candy. No; I am worried about Louis and Philip possibly conspiring to crush Aragón should my mother die before my father.’
‘Rest assured that Philip could not possibly sign a pact with Louis; The Cortes of Castile would never put its name to it. But I have no doubt that Louis will be doing his utmost to exact all kinds of promises from Philip, and we should be away as soon as possible. I shall pray for our early departure.’
‘Amen to that. I might just offer the same prayer too. If God is not too distracted by a congregation more concerned with fashionable robes, and the choirs of France and Flanders intent on trying to outdo each other in their quantities of lace and the volume of their anthems He may hear my tiny pleas.’
That Other Juana Page 9