But the more freely he showed this contempt of her, the better. It meant that he had dismissed her as negligible, and there lay her best chance of escape. Today she had been his prisoner a week, which must mean that the inner circle of the Sons of the Star would be meeting in the room below hers tonight. At all costs she must contrive to listen at that tell-tale chimney. She had made plan after plan for getting rid of old Luisa, but none of them satisfied her. The trouble was that it must all seem to be an accident. If Vasco realised she was plotting against him, she was lost.
When he was out, her meals were served to her in her own room, but tonight he came knocking on her door a little before his normal supper hour. As usual, the formalities were observed. He bowed, and kissed her hand, and hoped he would have the pleasure of her company at supper, and she smirked (she was afraid) and said she would be delighted to join him.
He was in an expansive mood, and she soon learned why. ‘The English are packing up.’ He poured her a glass of wine. ‘I thought that last edict of Dom John’s would be too much for even Lord Strangford to stomach. He’s asked for his passports. The Arms of England are already down from his house, I hear, and he’s waiting to leave. So that’s one less enemy for me to deal with. Not that I’m afraid of any of them, but I don’t want to shed your countrymen’s blood if I can avoid it, my Queen. England is our oldest ally, and once I am established on the throne, I intend to make my peace with her-on my own terms. It will be easier if I have not had to deal with her minister here.’
‘Yes.’ No doubt, in his vocabulary, ‘deal with’ meant ‘kill’. She must be very careful. It was unlike him to talk to her so freely. Was there anything behind it?
‘I met that Englishman who used always to be hanging round the Castle on the Rock,’ Vasco went on. ‘He was riding back from there – been saying goodbye, he said. He asked me if I’d heard any news of you.’ He was watching her closely.
‘Mr. Varlow?’ She managed to make it light. ‘I’m surprised he’s still interested, now it must seem obvious I’ll never own the Castle on the Rock.’
‘So that was it? I thought so. A fortune-hunter, pure and simple.’ He sounded relieved.
‘Oh, yes. He was after my sisters until my father lost his money.’ It was near enough the truth to sound convincing. ‘But how will the English get away?’ Surely this was a natural question to ask?
He laughed. ‘That must be what Strangford is wondering. It’s one thing to ask for one’s passports, but quite another to go. There’s been no packet for weeks now. If he tries to go overland he’ll fall into the hands of the French or the Spanish. And the only foreign ships in the Tagus are a party of Russian warships – he’ll hardly want to go aboard them, with Napoleon and the Tsar on such good terms. No, he must feel a pretty fool, just now, must Lord Strangford. I tell you, cousin, the cards are playing themselves into my hands. Two weeks, three at the most, and you will be a Queen.’
‘It’s hard to believe.’ But she did believe him, with a chill of terror. She was sure, now, that this unwonted flow of talk masked a deep excitement. There was something infinitely more important that he had not told her. At all costs she must get rid of Luisa and contrive to listen to the meeting tonight. None of the plans she had made was perfect. Which one should she try? She yawned, gracefully, behind her hand. ‘I’m tired tonight, cousin. Will you excuse me if I leave you? You must have much to think about.’ She had nearly referred to the meeting, but restrained herself in time. Fatal to suggest she was clever enough to have remembered this was the day for it.
He was on his feet in an instant. ‘I’m afraid you find your confinement fatiguing, cousin. But I promise you, it won’t be long now. In the meantime, let me give you a last glass of wine to help you sleep.’
She almost said no, restrained herself in the nick of time, and watched, with fascination, in the big looking-glass above the fireplace, as he shook in three drops from a vial taken from his pocket. He must intend her to sleep through the meeting. It was, she thought, extraordinarily obliging of him to provide her with the weapon she needed. She yawned again. ‘It’s good of you, cousin. It’s true, I have been sleeping badly. Will you bring it upstairs for me, and I’ll drink your health, last thing, when I am in bed?’
He was glad to be rid of her. ‘Of course.’
Later, handing the glass to Luisa, she had a moment’s qualm. Suppose it was poison, not merely a soporific? But that was impossible: Vasco needed her. It was the only strength of her position. ‘You drink it, Luisa,’ she said. ‘My cousin would pour it for me and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.’
‘Of course not, my Princess.’ Luisa approved of these sentiments. ‘It’s the best carcavelos.’ she said with obvious pleasure. ‘You’re sure you don’t want it?’
‘Quite sure.’ She settled back in the luxurious bed. Please God it worked, and quickly.
Half an hour later, Luisa was stretched, fully dressed but snoring, on her pallet. Juana blew out the lamp and tiptoed over to the big, ornamental chimneypiece where the pallet had stood before Luisa had it moved.
At first, she was afraid it had all been for nothing. With her head close to the fireplace she could hear only a confused murmur of voices, a roar of laughter, the clink of glasses. But Luisa had told her she could have understood what was said if she had troubled to listen. She pulled a cushion over to the fireplace and sat down with her head as near the opening as she could get it. Time passed. The noise from below grew louder and more confused. Suddenly she realised what was going on. They were bidding for the bank at faro. Were all their plans made then? Was this to be purely a convivial meeting? It was hard to believe. She got up to stretch her aching limbs and make sure that Luisa was still deep asleep. She was beginning to feel tired herself, and actually nodded off, for a minute, her head against the side of the fireplace.
Vasco’s voice waked her. ‘You may go, Manuel.’ he said. ‘Leave the wine ready on the side table.’ His voice rose to join in a babble of bidding. A few minutes later she heard it again, clearly. ‘That will do, gentlemen. The servants know their orders; we will not be disturbed again.’
There was a rustling and murmur of voices as the conspirators apparently threw in their cards and drew together for their real business. Juana had a clear picture of the room now. Vasco must be sitting at the head of the long table, close to the fireplace. The man who held the bank would be at the far end, so that she could not hear him. She set herself to listen.
An hour later, so stiff that she could hardly move, she crawled across the room to light a candle and take an anxious look at old Luisa. What she had heard tonight had taught her just how dangerous Vasco was. He did not deal in half measures. Suppose the sleeping draught he had measured for her should have proved too much for the old woman? But Luisa was breathing more naturally now. No need to be anxious about her. And that was just as well, Juana thought, as she climbed into her ostentatious bed. She had enough without that.
It was a sultry night, but she lay for an endless time, shivering with something that she preferred to think of as cold. She knew Vasco’s plan now, and knew how right she had been to be afraid of him. Its very simplicity was the mark of genius. But a mad, frightening genius. There had been a moment, listening there, when she had found herself thinking that it might be best for Portugal if Vasco did succeed. He was a strong man, and that was obviously what the country needed. So far as she could see, he was the only person who had really faced the threat from France. His plan might well save Portugal. But to what end? Talking to these, his chosen few, his band of brothers, as he called them, he had outlined, briefly, his plans for the country when it was his. They made her blood run cold. It was not just his casual dismissal of her: ‘We’ll need a pompous wedding,’ he had said, ‘and an heir, of course, or, better still, a couple of the brats, but after that … Well, you know what I think – what we all think of women, Brothers.’
There had been a murmur of approval. Apparently they did.
He had returned to the larger issue. His intention was to come ultimately to an agreement with Napoleon, whom he described as ‘the other strong man of Europe’. Juana thought the plan a diabolically clever one. Junot and the French army were to be lured further and further into Portugal by the apparent inertia of the country. Then, at the last moment, the Prince Regent and his family would be murdered, the country would rally behind the miraculous ‘Sebastian’, and the army would march in from the coast and confront Junot’s force which would by then be worn out with its long march. ‘They’ll be expecting nothing of the kind,’ Vasco had said. ‘And I saw Junot’s army: it’s composed mainly of raw recruits. They’ll give us no trouble. Not when they know we mean business. Junot can act as my ambassador to his master.’
Even if Dom John and his family decided to escape to the Brazils, Vasco’s intention was that they should be killed, down to the last infant. ‘We’ve had enough of the Braganzas, my friends.’
And there had been a muffled shout of ‘Long live the House of Aviz.’
In response to a question put by a voice Juana could just hear, and, maddeningly, thought familiar, Vasco had explained his position further. The rank and file of the Sons of the Star, he said, were a sentimental, woolly-minded lot who would boggle at murder. Much better that they should think Dom John and his family would be spared. They would be useful, were in fact essential for the destruction of the French army. ‘After that,’ he said, ‘it will be time to show our hand.’
Someone must have asked him how the rank and file of the Brotherhood were to be persuaded to fight the French, with whom, as liberals, they had such sympathy. Vasco had given a great guffaw of laughter at this point. ‘I’ve news for you, gentlemen.’ He told them that ten days earlier the French and Spanish had signed a secret treaty at Fontainebleau, by the terms of which Portugal was to be divided into three parts, one to be given to the young King of Etruria, one controlled by the French, and one to be handed over as a kingdom to the infamous Spanish minister, Godoy. ‘When I tell them that, Brothers, our problem will be to make them wait until the French have walked into our trap.’
As always, with Vasco, Juana had had the feeling that even now he was not telling his allies everything. It was fantastic, but she found herself even wondering whether he had not, in fact, some secret, agreement, himself, with Napoleon. Certainly he planned, ultimately, to work hand in glove with the French, and a few casual words left her in no doubt as to what would be the fate of Strangford and his entourage if they should be so unlucky as to be still in the country when he took over. Her own ultimate fate, both as woman and as English seemed no less certain. After the birth, of course, of the couple of brats he had spoken of.
But there was still a little time. Junot’s army would not walk into the trap for two weeks or more. The final arrangements would be made at next week’s meeting of the Sons of the Star. ‘Precipitate action would be fatal, Brothers.’
Most of the time she had been unable to hear anyone but Vasco, presumably because he sat at the head of the table nearest the fireplace but at the end a question had come over brutally clear. ‘And the woman? Our future Queen? Marriage has made her co-operative?’
She had been right. Vasco had told his friends they were married. ‘I expect no trouble from her,’ he said now, repressively.
‘And when do we expect an heir?’ The question was part of a half heard barrage of ribald comment, the gist of which seemed to be that marriage with her was a sacrifice Vasco had to make for the cause.
It was a long time before Juana slept that night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The days crept by. Listening to the meeting of the inner circle seemed to have exhausted Juana’s luck. She was on the alert, all the time, for the slightest chance of escaping, or at least getting a message out, but none came. The ring of protective custody around her was absolute. In moments of near despair, she thought of trying to win old Luisa over to her side, but abandoned the idea as worse than hopeless. For Luisa, the sun rose and set in Vasco. To tamper with her was to ensure disaster.
Confinement was beginning to tell on her health as well as her spirits. She slept badly, haunted by horrible dreams, and in the daytime made herself walk up and down, up and down the bedroom in a vain effort to tire herself out. An appeal to Vasco to let her walk in the courtyard after dark fell on deaf ears. ‘We must take no chances, my Queen.’
She felt sick now, when he called her that, but luckily he noticed her less and less as the days wore on toward the November meeting of the Sons of the Star. He had never referred to her suggestion that she should act as Handmaiden, and she did not dare bring the subject up, for fear of rousing his suspicions. Pacing her room at night, when Luisa was sleeping the deep sleep of the stupid, she saw the central courtyard filled with moonlight. Two days to the meeting … one day … tomorrow … tonight.
She had not seen Vasco for two days. Perhaps he would not even return before the meeting. She must not think like that, it was too close to despair. ‘I’m bored,’ she said to old Luisa. ‘When is the master coming home?’ She had fallen into Luisa’s habit of calling him this, because she could hardly bear to say his name.
‘I thought you were missing him!’ The old woman was delighted with the question. ‘I knew why you were moping, my Princess, better than you did yourself. Never mind, I’ve good news for you: it won’t be long now. He sent word this morning that he would sup with you tonight.’ She had crossed the room to the wardrobe where hung the regal gowns Vasco must have had made in advance. ‘You are to wear this. See! A gown for a Queen.’ She shook out crimson velvet folds lovingly.
‘But I’ll stifle in it!’ These clothes, too, witness of Vasco’s long-term planning, made her feel sick, and not only with fright.
‘Never mind that. The master expressly said you were to wear it.’
Why? Not, surely, just to sup with him. What did he care what she wore? Wild hope flooded through Juana. ‘Oh, in that case,’ she said, ‘of course I will.’
‘And the diadem too.’ Luisa went on. ‘Look, senhora, did you ever see anything so beautiful? It will hide that short hair of yours and make you look every inch a Queen.’
‘Yes, several inches too many.’ Juana made it a joke, but a cold premonitory finger touched her spine. Suppose she did not manage to get out of this; suppose she found herself, fantastically, Queen to Vasco’s King Sebastian? How long would he bear the fact that she towered half a head above him?
The crimson velvet was a perfect fit. ‘How on earth did he manage?’ asked Juana, as Luisa shook out the heavy folds of the skirt.
‘Manage? Oh – to get the fit? Why, Maria, of course; she came every day for a while.’
‘Did she?’ The ground shook under Juana’s feet. Maria, her friend from childhood, had been conspiring against her all the time. Was there no one she could trust?
‘There!’ Luisa adjusted the shimmering diadem on Juana’s rebellious locks. ‘There,’ she said again, with complete satisfaction, and then, surprisingly, sank into a deep, awkward curtsey. ‘God save your majesty!’
It was at once moving and terrifying. ‘I hope He will,’ said Juana.
Her thoughts were racing. This regal costume must mean that Vasco intended to present her to the Sons of the Star tonight. It might give her a chance, a hairsbreadth, desperate chance to save herself, and Portugal. She must be ready to take it with both hands and use it with all her intelligence. That was her only weapon, she knew, against Vasco – the fact that he thought of her almost as a thing, not for a moment as an equal.
When he arrived, she became aware of another advantage. He was visibly taken aback by the regal figure she presented, and kissed her hand with a deference that had been notably absent since he had had her in his power. When he said, ‘My Queen,’ she thought he almost meant it.
She would ask no questions. She had thought about this meeting all day and had drilled herself to impassivity. Whatever his plan was, sh
e would make him broach it, would seem, herself, hardly interested, just the mindless female he expected.
She made herself eat heartily of a dish of chicken with rice and almonds, drank a glass of wine, and said nothing. As the silent meal dragged on, she began to be aware of his sideways glance upon her. When he had planned this conversation, she thought, it had began with a question from her. He would have to replan it.
‘It’s the full moon tonight,’ he said at last.
‘Good gracious, so it is! I had quite forgotten. One loses count of the days, shut up as I have been.’ And then, quickly: ‘Don’t think I’m complaining, cousin; that would be ungrateful indeed. But is it really the full moon?’
‘Yes.’ He took this, she saw with pleasure, as merely another proof of her expected stupidity. ‘It is indeed, and the last time the Sons of the Star will meet in secret.’
‘Goodness!’ She tried to sound like Daisy. ‘Are you sure? Isn’t it exciting?’
‘I find it so. But, Juana, a while ago you said you would like to act once more as Handmaiden of the Star. Do you remember?’ He obviously thought it quite possible that she had forgotten.
‘Of course I do,’ she said warmly. ‘I thought it would be so splendid to do it when I knew it was for you, cousin. But I thought you didn’t like the idea, so I rather gave it up.’ She looked at him with what she hoped were large, adoring eyes and wished she could inconspicuously get herself slumped down still further against the table so that the difference in their height would be less apparent.
‘You were right. I didn’t much like it at the time, but now things have changed. Are you ready to do it once more, my Queen, for my sake?’
The Winding Stair Page 32
