Chapter 36
So, the marriage with Henry had come to nothing, after all; the English king had died, Juana mused strolling down the long salon. In truth she knew it had never been feasible. How could she possibly have reigned over Castile while living in England? She would have had to have made her father regent, and she would have none of that, it didn’t accord with her plans.
Two years had passed, the happiest years she had ever known, two years spent with her children; Ferdinand now six and Catalina a darling two year old toddler. She was more than content to continue this family life by leaving most of the day-to-day government of Castile in her father’s hands. All the necessary terms and agreements had been drawn up and simply awaited two signatures; hers and her father’s.
They had finally met yesterday after an interval of six years, the formal kneeling and kissing of hands quickly becoming loving embraces with the two of them on their knees holding each other close, Juana holding on to shoulders still as strong as any valiant warrior’s. Ferdinand tossed his bonnet aside and Juana’s widow’s veil was flung back. Seeing her father again completely overwhelmed her and she cried unashamedly. Through a mist of tears and with trembling fingertips she was reacquainted with the handsome, rugged features of her beloved father.
Today their meeting, for a moment or two at least, would be more formal but once the documents were signed they could turn their thoughts to choosing a convenient home for her and her little family. It was sad that Maximillian would not allow her other children to join her (that was hateful politics interfering again; he was determined to keep Charles in Flanders).
Suddenly she laughed, ‘Well, Ulloa, the remaining few Flems should soon be in Maximillian’s court, having made good their escape from Castile. What ridiculous figures they must have cut dressed as poor Franciscan friars but with a train of forty mules laden with the rich spoils of their thieving.’
‘King Ferdinand has done exceedingly well to rid Castile of the last of its enemies. He has always had the good of Castile in his heart and it grieves me that God could only reward him and his new wife with a sickly boy child so soon to be taken to Heaven.’
Juana bit her tongue so as not to say she was angered by her attendant’s boldness in offering unsought opinions and that she had not asked for a lecture on her father’s attributes.
But there he was! It still seemed nothing short of a miracle to have him near. Cisneros, now Cardinal thanks to her father’s successful negotiations with the pope, and Ferrer were almost tripping over their master’s heels they hovered so close. It was such a comfort knowing that soon she would never have to face either of them again.
After welcoming her father she accompanied him to a table prepared with quills, ink, candle, seals, and the precious document. Juana’s secretary and four Doctors of Law stood behind the thrones. Juana had to force herself to remain dignified when all she wanted to do was skip and dance; she was about to take the most important step in her life. That piece of paper was about to determine her future, a future without uncertainty, anxiety, or fear.
v v v
It was going to be exactly as it was when her mother was alive; two monarchs ruling. Her father, with his many years of experience of dealing with the day-to-day government, would come to her to discuss any decisions and to seek her signature on all documents. She was to be queen with all the rights and authority to make the final decisions. Moreover, anything less than this would be unacceptable to her countrymen, many of whom had little regard for Ferdinand.
Her father held her hand, ‘So now we must determine the best place for you to live. I have in mind the small town of Tordesillas.’
‘Whatever made you think of such a place with its history of imprisoned queens?’
Ferdinand tapped the tip of her nose, laughing, ‘That was well over a hundred years ago, silly!’
‘But it is rather remote.’
‘Not at all; it is precisely what you prefer; small and quiet. But it is conveniently situated, reasonably close to Valladolid where I shall convene the Cortes, making it easy for me to visit you. I grant you it is a little out of the way, but that has its advantages for the moment. There are still pockets of unrest, and my heart would be at ease knowing you are safe while I am in Granada dealing with the rebels down there.’
Juana closed her other hand over his, delighted that she could be of use; it would make Granada’s acceptance of her father as joint monarch so much more palatable if she were by his side. ‘I shall accompany you. They have always voiced their unwavering support for me, they will listen to me,’ she could barely contain her excitement, ‘and I could take Philip to his final resting place.’
‘It has to be a military operation. Cisneros and I are taking an army down there; that is the only language rebels understand.’
‘But that would be unnecessary if I were present,’ Juana reassured him.
The voice of Cisneros cut across hers, ‘Do you have no regard for filial duty? How dare you contradict your father? A daughter should listen, not speak.’
‘You may have spoken to my mother like that, but I will not allow it. I am the queen of Castile and I am discussing matters of importance regarding its security and development with the king. I would ask you not to interfere.’
‘Hold your tongue daughter, you offend the cardinal!’ Ferdinand warned.
‘I am sorry, father, but his presence has shadowed me like a bird of ill omen for years; always implying retribution should I dare spurn his advice.’
‘Enough, Juana!’ Ferdinand then softened his tone, ‘Granada is out of the question. From the deep love I bear you I cannot permit you to further embarrass yourself with regard to the funeral cortege.’
‘Meaning?’
‘It breaks my heart to think you have been opening the coffin lid to gaze on Philip’s body, to kiss his feet …’
‘Lies, all lies!’ She looked from Cisneros to Ferrer then to Ulloa; which of the three was the source of such offensive lies, and for what reason?
‘And there was the incident at a convent.’
Hurt and anger caught at her breath, ‘Stop! This is infamy! A malicious mind has been at work. In Burgos I insisted on his coffin being opened that I and other witnesses would know that Philip’s body had not been stolen; but that someone should suggest that I ever did this again, and to make their lies disgustingly ghoulish is unforgivable.’ Her voice grew loud, too loud. ‘The convent episode was quite straightforward. It was the sanctuary of nuns and I was determined to protect their innocence, and probably their virginity, from the lusty guards accompanying the cortege. That is why I ordered everyone to rest outside its gates and not to take shelter indoors before setting off once more. That is the truth of the matter!’
That other Juana came to her aid, and she cautioned herself that by explaining her actions she was surrendering her authority, she was allowing herself to become the victim. A queen is not called upon to offer reasons for anything. She stood tall and thrust her chin forward and in a quiet voice announced, ‘This will never be mentioned again. I have also decided that this would be the best moment to offer Doña Ulloa’s services to your good lady wife, Germaine, and to return your ambassador, cleric Ferrer. Your need for him is greater than mine. Now I shall make my preparations to travel to Granada.’
Chapter 37
Juana stormed into her apartments hurling abuse at Doña Ulloa. If her hands were free she would surely throw something at her or scratch her deceitful face, but they were otherwise occupied frantically tearing and pulling at fastenings at the side of her bodice and at laces attaching the sleeves at her shoulders.
‘You vile wretch, you knew!’
‘I …’
‘Do not dare speak,’ she hissed the words from between clenched teeth, hot tears scalding her cheeks. ‘Marta, help me. Find me a gown and robe, a mantle, a hood, something, anything, but quickly. And bring my jewellery casket.’
An astonished Marta launched herself into
action; curious yet anxious not to know why her mistress should want to change into royal robes after months of total disregard for her appearance. If only Ulloa hadn’t forbidden her to wander far from this area at the rear of the palace, she would have had some idea. As she rummaged in the solitary chest she heard Juana demand Ulloa bring a mirror, and she swallowed hard.
‘Shall I send for some hot water? I think that might be nice.’
‘No time for that, Marta.’
Marta’s fingers succeeded where Juana’s had failed, and the soiled and filthy woollen sleeves were freed and then the stained bodice. The chemise came off next, bringing with it a reeking odour of stale sweat. The fouled woollen skirts and stained petticoats carried an even worse stink of stale urine.
Juana pulled a loose robe over her shoulders and stared at the pile of discarded clothes. A few moments ago she had considered them embarrassingly ordinary, totally unsuitable, and that was serious enough.
‘Marta, how long have I been like this?’
Marta’s unease deepened, she had no desire to open old wounds. For months she had done everything possible to nurse and comfort her mistress, and together they had learned to cope with adversity, but she had failed miserably in helping Juana retain some pride in her appearance, to look after herself properly. She continued fussing and fidgeting with Juana’s robe.
Juana snatched the mirror from Doña Ulloa, ‘Get out, wait outside! Dear God, no!’ The image staring back at her was covered with a layer of grime, smudged rivulets hinting at an unhealthy skin beneath, huge eyes set in a gaunt face, and the hair, that once so attractive auburn hair that Zayda had washed and dressed with perfumed oils, was nothing more than a dull and dirty thatch.
‘Marta, what has happened to me?’
‘My lady, you’ve not been well for some time. And, I might add, it’s because there’s some as have got too much authority and no common decency,’ she flung the words towards the doorway, knowing that Ulloa would be listening.
‘Why? When?’
Marta busied herself washing and dressing Juana, ‘It was when King Ferdinand took your little boy away. But we don’t want to go over all that again, it will only upset you.’
‘But I got him back?’
‘Only when you said you would come to Tordesillas. That’s when he was brought back. But once we were here he was taken away again, because this place wasn’t good enough for a little prince so they said. That’s when you got really poorly.’
‘I did? I was ill? When was this?’ She had to make some sense; some order of forgotten days.
‘Maybe a year, maybe more, but you put up a wonderful fight. You showed them, my goodness, so you did, refusing to come out of your room, not going to Mass and all the rest.’
‘But I failed?’
‘Well yes, but they couldn’t stop you shouting about Ferrer; how he treated you, how he wouldn’t let you do anything, not even permit you to visit your husband’s tomb in the convent. That scared the lot of them. So they brought you here to the back end of the palace where no one would hear you.’ And she had had to watch helpless as they dragged her mistress along the corridor.
‘So the battle was lost.’
Marta wept as she completed her work, ‘Not entirely. We’ve got through many a bad day. But then, after a while, you didn’t care any more about yourself. You seemed to have given in. I’m sorry.’
A year or more had passed by? What had she been doing all this time? Reading perhaps, or playing her beloved vihuela, or sometimes her harpsichord, sewing; or sitting doing nothing, absolutely nothing for hours at a time. It was only if her father came to see her, and that was rare, that she ever got to know and talk about events beyond this room, this palace, Tordesillas or Castile.
‘Marta, we must never let this happen again, I must be more positive. I have some awkward explaining to do first but then everything should be fine.’ Juana studied herself in the mirror, ‘Marta, you have done wonders.’
She looked regal in her black velvet with her mother’s gold necklace of sheaves of arrows. Rubies and pearls on brooches sparkled on her bodice and skirts. Her lifeless tresses had been securely tucked away under a fresh black hood.
Marta folded her arms in satisfaction, ‘I don’t know who has come to visit you, but they’ll never guess you haven’t been well.’
Juana closed her eyes and said nothing; hoping.
She hurried along the corridor passing the guards placed there for her “safety”.
‘Hurry, Ulloa.’
She turned the corner and headed for the Grand Salon where about an hour ago she had entered with her father. The enormity of that disastrous visit now hit her hard.
Yes; earlier she and her father had entered the salon, he in his jerkin of black and gold brocade, a long gown of crimson velvet lined with ermine, on his head a black velvet bonnet trimmed with gold; and she … not in a simple woollen dress, as she had thought, but wearing those disgusting, indescribably filthy, clothes now lying on the floor of her room.
There, waiting to greet her were ambassadors from France and Austria, archbishops, bishops, the admiral, the constable, the Dukes of Alba and Medinasidonia, counts too numerous to remember. A glittering display of power: Spanish power, Europe’s power.
She had not been told of the audience or she would have changed into something more appropriate. She had frozen with shame. Her shame had become disbelief; that her father could have done this to her. With a supreme effort she had spoken, ‘My lords you must excuse me. I had not expected you. I was not prepared. I request your indulgence for a few moments then I shall be happy to grant you an audience.’
And then she had fled, snatched remarks following her, ‘Good God, she must be ill … slovenly … lamentable … her mind must be … cannot be fit to …Ferdinand must …’
The admiral had followed her, urging her to listen to him, but she would not stop, ‘Not now, uncle.’ She couldn’t afford to waste a single moment.
The doors were opened and once more she entered the Grand Salon.
The room was empty. The room was empty, except for Ferdinand who stood at the window enjoying the view of the river and the meadows beyond.
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Gone, my dear, all gone.’
The battle was lost; they would not come again.
Without shifting his gaze he continued, ‘They were overcome with shame or pity for you. They left after offering me their fullest support; recognising that sadly you are unfit to be considered as queen.’
‘I cannot believe this of you.’ She was bewildered, confused, frightened. ‘You were here just yesterday and we talked of many things, detailing your meetings with envoys from France and Austria to form a league against Venice. Not once did you mention my appearance, nor did you say there was to be a royal audience today. But now I know why, I see it all. You were not content with all the power I willingly devolved to you!’ Her voice was raised, she was shouting, and she couldn’t stop herself. ‘It was not enough, because you were afraid! You had to ensure that those who only tolerated you because you are my father would see me in such a light they would give you full authority! So you put me on display! You used me. You did not return to Castile to comfort and support me, today you proved that beyond doubt; you brought the fool to the feast and rubbed your hands with glee. A loving father would never treat his daughter so!’
‘Do try to control yourself. Being a king is my first responsibility. I told you that, years ago.’
‘To be a king, do you have to be a cruel father?’
She blotted her tears with the back of her hand, moving towards him, her heart breaking, her arms outstretched begging some compassion. ‘I loved and trusted Philip. I loved and trusted you. A husband and a father; both have betrayed me.’
‘You women have such strange notions about love. You make it your whole existence. We men have other driving forces to fill our hearts; love, when it exists takes a poor second place.’
‘Gone.’
‘You have left me with no one to turn to. I have no means of redress.’
‘None whatsoever; I now have Castile in the palm of my hand. There will not be one lord to side with you or your son Charles. I leave tomorrow for Granada to deal once and for all with those rebels. You will remain here withdrawn from the world. Very soon that world will cease to have any interest in you. Ferrer will govern this house and if you try to prevent him or his servants from carrying out my requests, then he has my authority to use whatever force is necessary.’
She was struggling to make sense of his words. What was he threatening? Why? What would he request Ferrer to do, and why might it require force?
‘Am I to be treated as some wild creature to be tamed, to bend to its master’s will? Is that all I am to you, a worthless animal?’
‘I would not go so far as to say worthless. In fact you are quite valuable, inasmuch as I need you alive so that I can continue as regent of Castile; it is important I have her power and wealth to further Aragón’s causes.’
How was she to fight this; and who was there to support her? At least she had Marta in whom she could trust and there might be others.
‘I must have some of the ladies who served my mother,’ it was always possible that they might be of some help.
‘We shall see,’ Ferdinand answered with indifference. It was of little consequence who was placed in Juana’s service for they would be his appointees, taking orders only from him and answering only to him.
That Other Juana Page 20