‘This is all very wearying,’ sighed Henry. ‘What can I do about it?’
Villena smiled at the Archbishop. ‘There was a time, Highness,’ he said gently, ‘when I heard that question more often on your lips. Then you knew. Highness, that you could rely upon me. Now you put your faith and trust in a pretty young gentleman who makes scandals with the Queen herself. Highness, since you have asked me, this is my advice: Cease to honour Beltran de la Cueva so blatantly. Let him see that you doubt the honourable nature of his conduct. And allow a commission of churchmen – which I and the Archbishop will nominate – to enquire into the legitimacy of the child.’
Henry looked about hopelessly. The only way to rid himself of these tiresome men and to bring back his pretty mistress was to agree.
He waved his hand impatiently. ‘Do as you wish... do as you wish,’ he cried. ‘And leave me in peace.’
Villena and the Archbishop retired well satisfied.
* * *
It had become clear to all astute observers of the Castilian scene that the Marquis of Villena would not lightly abandon his hold upon the King, and if the King and Queen persisted in their allegiance to Beltran de la Cueva, Villena would raise such a strong party against them that it might well lead to civil war.
There was one who watched this state of affairs with great satisfaction. This was the Marquis of Villena’s brother, Don Pedro Giron, a very ambitious man who was a Grand Master of the Order of Calatrava.
The Knights of Calatrava belonged to an institution which had been established as long ago as the twelfth century.
The Order had sprung into being because of the need to defend Castile against Moorish conquerors. Calatrava stood on the frontiers of Andalusia, which was occupied by the Moors, and the town, which commanded the pass into Castile, became of paramount importance. The Knights Templar had attempted to hold it, but, unable to withstand the constant and ferocious attacks of the Mussulmans, had abandoned it.
The reigning King of Castile, Sancho, the Beloved, offered the town to any knights who would defend it from the Moors, and certain monks from a Navarrese convent immediately took possession. The situation captured the imagination of the people and many rallied to the defence of the town, so enabling it to be held against all attacks.
The monks then founded an order which consisted of knights, monks and soldiers; and this they named the Knights of Calatrava; it was recognised by Pope Alexander III as a religious Order in 1164, adopted the rules of St Benedict and imposed strict discipline on its community.
The first and most important rule of the community was that of celibacy. Its members were to follow the rule of silence, and to live in great austerity. They ate meat only once a week; but they were not merely monks; they must remember that their Order had come into being through their prowess with the sword; and it was their custom to sleep with their swords beside them, ready to go into action against the Moors at any moment when they might be called upon to do so.
Don Pedro Giron, while enjoying the prestige his position in the Order brought to him, had no intention of carrying out its austere rules.
He was a man of tremendous political ambition and he did not see why, since his brother the Marquis was reckoned to be the most important man in Castile – or had been deemed so before the coming of the upstart Beltran de la Cueva – he should not bask in his brother’s glory and use the influence of the Marquis to better his own position.
He was ready to obey his brother’s wishes, to rouse the people to revolt if need be, to spread any rumour that his brother wished to be spread. Nor did he hesitate to follow his own life of pleasure, and he had a score of mistresses. Indeed the Grand Master of Calatrava was noted throughout Castile for his licentious habits. None dared criticise him; if he saw a flicker of disapproval on any face he would ask the offender if he knew his brother the Marquis of Villena. ‘We are great friends, my brother and I. We are jealous of the family honour. His enemies are mine and mine are his.’
Consequently most people were too much in awe of the powerful Villena to continue the criticism of his somewhat disreputable brother. He was greatly amused by the scandal which the Queen of Castile had caused in the Court.
It pleased him to consider that Queens were as frail as other women, and as he was a vain man, he began to fancy himself as the lover of Joanna. She however was besottedly devoted to Beltran de la Cueva, and he himself was not an overwhelmingly handsome or attractive man.
Then one day he saw Isabella, the Dowager Queen of Castile, walking in the grounds, and he considered her.
She was still an attractive woman; he had heard rumours of her wildness and how it was sometimes necessary to lure her from her moods of hysteria by means of soothing powders and potions.
His brother the Marquis was turning more and more from King Henry and his Queen, which meant that he was turning towards the young Alfonso and Isabella. There was no doubt that the Dowager Queen, who was obviously ambitious for her children, would welcome the friendship of the Marquis of Villena.
And if she is a wise woman, mused Don Pedro, she will be eager to be on the best of terms with all our family.
So he watched her on more than one occasion, and it seemed to him that his latest mistress had little charm for him. She was a beautiful girl, but he had set his heart on sharing the bed of a Queen.
He swaggered about the Court, seeing himself as another Beltran de la Cueva.
At last he could contain his patience no longer; he found an opportunity of speaking alone to the Dowager Queen.
He had formally requested a private interview, and this was granted him.
As he dressed himself with the utmost care, as he demanded flattering compliments from his valets – who gave them slavishly, realising that if they did not it would be the worse for them – it did not occur to him that he could fail in his plans regarding the Dowager Queen.
* * *
The Dowager Queen was with her daughter.
She had sent for Isabella, although she knew that Don Pedro Giron was on his way to visit her.
When Isabella saw her mother, she was quick to notice the suppressed excitement shining in her eyes. Yet, there was no hint of the madness. Something had made her happy, and Isabella had come to know that it was depression and frustration which brought on those attacks of madness.
‘Come here, daughter,’ said the Dowager Queen. ‘I have sent for you because I wish you to be aware of what is going on about us.’
‘Yes, Highness,’ said Isabella demurely. She was aware, more than she had ever been. Her constant companion, Beatriz de Bobadilla, was proving to be very knowledgeable on Court matters, and life had become full of intrigue and interest since Beatriz had formally been presented to her as her maid of honour. Now Isabella knew of the scandal concerning Queen Joanna and the birth of the baby who, many were beginning to say, was not the true heiress of Castile.
‘I do not think it can be long now before your brother is proclaimed the King’s successor,’ said the Dowager Queen. ‘There are protests from all directions. The people are not going to accept Beltran de la Cueva’s daughter as their future Queen. Now, my dear Isabella, I have called you to me because I am expecting an important visit very shortly. I did not send for Alfonso because he is too young, and this concerns him too deeply. You are going to be present during the interview, although you will not be seen. You will be hidden behind the hangings there. You must stand very still, that none may know that you are present.’
Isabella caught her breath in fear. Was this a new version of that wildness? Her mother, actually arranging that she should eavesdrop!
‘Very soon,’ went on the Dowager Queen, ‘the brother of the Marquis of Villena is to call upon me. He will come as his brother’s messenger. I know the reason for his coming. It is to tell me that his brother’s adherents are going to demand that Alfonso be acknowledged as Henry’s heir. You will hear how calmly I accept his statements. It will be a lesson to you for the fu
ture, daughter; when you are Queen of Aragon you will have to receive ambassadors of all kinds. There may be some who bring startling news to you. You must never betray your emotions. Whatever the news... good or bad... you must accept it as a Queen, as you will see me do.’
‘Highness,’ began Isabella, ‘could I not remain in your presence? Must I hide myself?’
‘My dear child, do you imagine that the Grand Master of Calatrava would disclose his mission in your presence! Now... obey me immediately. Come. This will hide you completely. Stay perfectly still, and listen to what he has to say. And particularly note my acceptance of the news.’
Feeling that it was some mad game she was being forced to play, a game not in accord with her dignity, which had increased since her coming to Court, Isabella allowed herself to be placed behind the hangings.
After a few minutes Don Pedro was ushered into the apartments of the Dowager Queen.
‘Highness,’ he said, kneeling, ‘it is gracious of you to receive me.’
‘It gives me pleasure,’ was the answer.
‘I had a feeling within me, Highness, that I should cause you no offence by coming to you thus.’
‘On the contrary, Don Pedro. I am ready to listen to your proposition.’
‘Highness, have I your permission to sit?’
‘Assuredly.’
Isabella heard the scrape of chair-legs as they sat down.
‘Highness.’
‘Well, Don Pedro?’
‘I have long been aware of you. On those happy occasions when I have been at some ceremony which Your Highness attended I have been aware of no one else.’
There was a strange silence in the room, not lost on the hidden Isabella.
‘I trust that you, Highness, have not been completely unaware of me.’
The Dowager Queen answered, and her voice showed she was bewildered: ‘One would not be unaware of the brother of such a personage as the Marquis of Villena.’
‘Ah, my brother. Highness, I would have you know that his interests are mine. We are as one... in our desire to see peace in this Kingdom.’
Now the Queen felt and sounded happier. ‘I had guessed that, Don Pedro.’
‘Would it surprise you, Highness, if I told you that there have been occasions when my brother, the Marquis, has discussed his policies with me and listened to my advice?’
‘It would not. You are Grand Master of a Holy Order. Naturally you should be able to advise your brother... spiritually.’
‘Highness, there is one thing I would work for... body and soul... that is the acceptance of your son the Infante Alfonso as heir to the throne of Castile. I would see the little bastard girl, now known as the heir, proclaimed for what she is. It need not be long before this happens... if...’
‘If, Don Pedro?’
‘I have made Your Highness aware of the influence I have with my brother, and you know full well the power he wields in this land. If you and I were friends, there is nothing I would not do... not only to have the boy proclaimed heir, but to... I must whisper this... Come, sweet lady, let me put my lips to your ear... to depose Henry in favour of your son Alfonso.’
‘Don Pedro!’
‘I said, my dearest lady, if we were friends.’
‘I do not understand you. You speak in riddles.’
‘Oh, you are not so blind as you would have me believe. You are still a beautiful woman, dear lady. Come... come... I hear you lived most piously at that deadly place in Arevalo... but this is the Court. You are not old... nor am I. I think we could bring a great deal of pleasure to each other’s lives.’
‘I think, Don Pedro,’ said the Dowager Queen, ‘that you must be suffering from a temporary madness.’
‘Not I, dear lady, not I. As for yourself you would be completely well if you lived a more natural life. Come, do not be so prudish. Follow the fashion. By the saints, I swear you will never regret the day you and I become lovers.’
The Dowager Queen had leaped to her feet. Isabella heard the urgent scrape of her chair. She heard also the note of alarm in her mother’s voice. Looking through the folds of brocade she saw a purple-faced man who seemed to her to symbolise all that was beastly in human nature. She saw her mother – no longer calm – afraid and shocked beyond her understanding.
Isabella knew that unless the man was dismissed her mother would begin to shout and wave her arms, and he would witness one of those wild scenes which she, Isabella, was so anxious should not be seen except by those whom she could trust.
Isabella forgot the instruction that she was to remain hidden. She stepped from her hiding-place into the room.
The purple-faced man with the evil expression stared at her as though she were a ghost. Indeed it must have seemed strange to him that she had apparently materialised from nowhere.
She drew herself to her full height and never before had she looked so much a Princess of Castile.
‘Sir,’ she said coldly, ‘I ask you to leave... immediately.’
Don Pedro stared at her incredulously.
‘Is it necessary,’ went on young Isabella, ‘for me to have you forcibly removed?’
Don Pedro hesitated. Then he bowed and left them.
Isabella turned to her mother, who was trembling so much that she could not speak.
She led her to a chair and stood beside her, her arms about her protectively.
She whispered gently: ‘Dearest Highness, he has gone now. He is evil... but has left us. We will never see him again. Do not tremble so. Let me take you to your bed. There you will lie down. He has gone now, that evil man.’
The Dowager Queen stood up and allowed Isabella to take her arm.
From that moment Isabella felt that she was the one who must care for her mother, that she was the strong one who must protect her brother and her mother from this wicked Court, this whirlpool of intrigue which was threatening to drag them down to... what? She could not imagine.
All she knew was that she was capable of defending herself, of bridging the dangerous years through which she must pass before she was safe as the bride of Ferdinand.
* * *
The Dowager Queen sent for Isabella. She had recovered from the shock of Giron’s proposals and was no longer stunned; she was very angry.
‘I am sorry, my daughter,’ said the Queen, ‘that you should have overheard such a revolting outburst. That man shall be severely punished. He shall very soon regret the day he submitted me to such indignity. You are coming with me to the King, to bear witness of what you overheard.’
Isabella was alarmed. She fully realised that the Grand Master of the Order of Calatrava had behaved disgracefully, but she had hoped that, once the man had been dismissed from her mother’s presence, his conduct might be forgotten; for remembering it could only serve to over-excite her mother.
‘We are going to Henry now,’ said the Dowager Queen. ‘I have told him that I must see him on a matter of great importance, and he has agreed to receive us.’ The Dowager Queen looked at her daughter, and tears came into her eyes.
‘My dear Isabella,’ she said, ‘I fear you are fast leaving childhood behind you. That is inevitable, since you must live at this Court. I could wish, my dear, that you and I and your brother could return to Arevalo. I think we should be so much happier there. Come.’
Henry received them with a show of affection.
He complimented Isabella on her appearance. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘my little sister is no longer a child. She grows every day. We are a tall family, Isabella; and you are no exception.’
He greeted his stepmother with equal warmth, although he was wondering what grievance had brought her – he felt sure it was a grievance.
‘Henry,’ said the Dowager Queen, ‘I have a complaint to make... a complaint of a most serious nature.’
The King put on an expression of concern, but Isabella, who was watching closely, saw that it thinly veiled one of exasperation.
‘I have been insulted by Don Pedro Gir
on,’ said the Dowager Queen dramatically.
‘That is very shocking,’ said Henry, ‘and I am grieved to hear it.’
‘The man came to my apartment and made outrageous proposals.’
‘What were these proposals?’
‘They were of an immoral nature. Isabella will bear witness, for she heard all that was said.’
‘He made these proposals in Isabella’s presence then?’
‘Well... she was there.’
‘You mean he was not aware that she was there?’
‘No... he was not. I know, Henry, that you will not allow such outrageous conduct to go unpunished.’
Henry shifted his gaze from his stepmother’s face. He said, ‘He did not... attack you?’
‘He attacked my good name. He dared presume to make immoral suggestions to me. If Isabella had not come from her hiding-place in time... I think it is very possible that he might have laid hands on me.’
‘So Isabella was in hiding?’ Henry looked sternly at his half-sister.
‘I thank the saints that she was!’ cried the Queen. ‘No woman’s virtue is safe when there are such men at Court. My dear son, you will, I know, not suffer such conduct to go unpunished.’
Henry said: ‘Dear Mother, you excite yourself unnecessarily. I have no doubt that you protected your virtue from this man. You are still a beautiful woman. I cannot entirely blame him – nor must you – for being aware of that. I am sure, if you consider this matter calmly, you will come to the conclusion that the best of men sometimes forget the honour due to rank when beauty beckons.’
‘This is carnal talk,’ cried the Queen. ‘I beg of you not to use it before my daughter.’
‘Then I marvel that you should bring her to me when making such a complaint.’
‘But I told you she was there.’
‘She had been concealed... by your wishes, or was it some sly prank of her own? Which was it, eh? You tell me, Isabella.’
Isabella looked at her mother; she dared not lie to the King, yet at the same time she could not betray her mother.
Castile for Isabella Page 10
