The Shadow of the Pomegranate

by Виктория Холт

  Ferdinand, however, lost no time in returning to his own apartments and writing to his ambassador in London.

  The King of England must be persuaded to join Spain in the war against France without delay. The Queen of England must influence her husband. It would not be good policy of course to let her know how, in inducing England to make war, she was serving Spain rather than England; but she must be made to use all her power to persuade the King. It was clear that certain of the King’s ministers were restraining him. Those ministers should be promised bribes…anything they wished for…if they would cease to dissuade the King of England from war. But the most important influence at the Court of England was the Queen; and if Caroz could not persuade her to do what her father wished, he should consult her confessor and let the priest make Katharine see where her duty lay.

  Ferdinand sealed the dispatches, called for his messengers and, when they had gone, sat impatiently tapping his foot. He felt exhausted, and this irked him for it was yet another indication that he was growing old. He thought with regret of those days of glowing health and vitality; he was a man of action and he dreaded the thought of encroaching old age.

  If he could not be a soldier leading men into battle, a statesman artfully seeking to get the better of his opponents, a lusty lover of women, a begetter of children, what was left to him? He was not one who could enjoy the quiet pleasures of old age. He had always been a man of action, first and foremost.

  And now there was gray in his beard, pouches beneath his eyes and a stiffness in his limbs. He had a young and beautiful wife, yet his pleasure in her was spoiled by the contrast in their ages; he could not forget his age when he was with her, but rather was more conscious of the years.

  He longed for sons, because he was feeling a growing animosity towards his young grandson Charles, a boy who was being brought up in Flanders and who could inherit not only the dominions of his grandfather, the Emperor Maximilian, but those of Isabella and Ferdinand and all the Spanish dependencies…unless Ferdinand’s wife Germaine gave him a son to whom he could leave Aragon.

  So much! thought Ferdinand. For one young boy who has done nothing to win it for himself!

  He thought of the early struggles he and Isabella had endured in order to win Castile, and he longed afresh for his youth. With mingled feelings he remembered Isabella—a great Queen but at times an uncomfortable wife. His Germaine was more pliable; there was no question of her attempting to use her authority in defiance of his—she had none in any case. And yet…those days of struggle and triumph with Isabella had been great days.

  But she was gone these many years, and her daughter Juana, Queen of Spain in name only, passed her tragic days in seclusion at the Castle of Tordesillas, roaming from room to room, her mentality so clouded that she talked to those who had died years before, or fell into silences which lasted for weeks; ate her meals from the floor like an animal, never cleaned herself, and constantly mourned the dead husband who had been noted for his infidelity and his beauty.

  Tragic for her of course, but not so for Ferdinand, since it was due to Juana’s insanity that he ruled Castile. But for that he would be merely a petty ruler of Aragon realizing how much he owed to his marriage with Isabella.

  But the past was done with, and the once active, lusty man was feeling his age.

  Unless he got Germaine with child, young Charles could inherit everything his maternal and paternal grandparents had to leave. But his younger brother, Ferdinand, should not be forgotten. His grandfather and namesake would see to that. All the same he longed for a son of his own.

  He had thought at one time that his wish was to be fulfilled. Germaine had two or three years before given birth to a son; but the little boy had died only a few hours after birth.

  Ferdinand sat musing on the past and the future, and after a while he rose and went through the main apartments to a small chamber in which he kept certain important documents.

  He opened a cabinet in this room and took out a small bottle which contained certain pills, which he slipped into his pocket.

  Unobtrusively he would take one half an hour before retiring. He had proved the efficacy of these pills and would reward his physician if the desired result were achieved.

  Germaine would be surprised at his powers.

  He smiled; yet at the same time he felt a little sad that a man who had once been noted for his virility should be forced to resort to aphrodisiacs.

  * * *

  DON LUIS CAROZ, waiting in an antechamber of the Queen’s apartments at Westminster, chafed against this mission which he felt to be an indignity to a man of his position. Don Luis flicked at the elaborate sleeve of his doublet; it was an unnecessary gesture; there was no dust on his sleeve; but it conveyed his fastidiousness and his contempt for the streets through which he had passed.

  His garments were more magnificent than those of most ambassadors at the King’s Court; indeed he vied with the King and he assured himself that it was merely because Henry favored the brightest colors that he appeared to be more dazzling. It was a matter of English vulgarity against Spanish good taste. Don Luis had a very high opinion of himself; it seemed to him that his diplomacy succeeded brilliantly; he lost sight of the fact—if it ever had occurred to him—that it was the Queen who made it easy for him, not only to gain an audience with the King whenever he wished to do so, but, receiving hints of her father’s desires, by preparing the King’s mind favorably towards them before Caroz appeared.

  Vain, immensely rich—which was the reason why Ferdinand had chosen him to be his ambassador in England since he could pay his own expenses and thus save Ferdinand’s doing so—Don Luis was determined that his suite should be more grand than that of any other ambassador, and that the Court should not forget that his position was a specially favorable one on account of the Queen’s being the daughter of his master.

  It was therefore galling for such a grand gentleman to be kept waiting—and by a humble priest at that. At least he should have been humble; but Caroz had reason to know that there was nothing humble about Fray Diego Fernandez.

  Katharine, who was almost as pious as her mother had been, naturally placed great confidence in her confessor, and the friar who held such a position was certain to wield an influence over her.

  Don Luis paced up and down the anteroom. How dare the priest keep the ambassador waiting! The vulgar fellow. It was the ambassador’s belief that the little priest was itching to get a finger into the political pie. Let him keep to his post and the ambassador would keep to his.

  But Fray Diego’s task was to be the Queen’s confessor—and a woman such as Katharine would consider her actions always a matter of conscience.

  Don Luis made a gesture of impatience. “The saints preserve us from saintly women,” he murmured.

  At length the priest appeared. Don Luis looked at him—uncouth, he thought, in his priestly robes, a smug satisfaction on his young but clever face.

  “Your Excellency wished to see me?”

  “I have been waiting this last half hour to do so.”

  “I trust you have not found the waiting tedious.”

  “I always find waiting tedious.”

  “It is because you are a man of such affairs. I pray you therefore let me know your business.”

  Don Luis went swiftly to the door; he opened it, looked out, then shut it and stood leaning against it. “What I have to say is for you alone…for Spanish ears, you understand me?”

  The priest bowed his head in assent.

  “Our master is eager that the King of England should declare war on France without delay.”

  The priest lifted his hands. “Wars, Excellency, are beyond my sphere.”

  “Nothing is beyond the sphere of a good servant of Spain. That is what our master thinks. And he has work for you.”

  “I pray you proceed.”

  “King Ferdinand believes that the Queen could help us. She has much influence with King Henry. Indeed her influence must s
urely be of greater account than that of his ministers.”

  “I doubt that, Excellency.”

  “Then it must become so. If it is not, mayhap it is because the Queen has not worked hard enough to obey her father’s wishes.”

  “Her Grace wishes to please her father and her husband. Her father is far away and did little to succor her when she needed his help. Her husband is here at hand; and I doubt he could be led too far from his own desires.”

  “What do you know of these matters? He is young and ardent. If the Queen used skill, the utmost tact…she could win his promise immediately.”

  “It is my opinion that this would not be so.”

  “Your opinion was not asked. And how can you, a celibate, understand that intimacy which exists between a man and woman in the privacy of the bedchamber? My dear Fray Diego, there are moments, I assure you, which if chosen with skill can be used to great advantage. But you do not know of these matters—or do you?”

  There was a sneer behind the words, a suggestion that the rumors of a secret life, attributed to Fray Diego, might be true. If such rumors were proved to be true they could cost him his position, Fray Diego knew; for Katharine herself would be so shocked that, much as she relied on him, she would let him go if she discovered his secret.

  The priest knew that the ambassador was not his friend; but he had triumphed over enemies before. He remembered with relish his battle with Francesca de Carceres; she had hated him and had schemed for his recall to Spain. But look what had happened to her! Now married to the banker Grimaldi she was desperately trying to regain her position at Court, whereas he was higher in the Queen’s favor than he had ever been, and so important that the ambassador was forced, though much against his will, to seek an interview with him.

  Fray Diego was young; he was somewhat arrogant. He really did not see why he should take orders from Caroz. It was Ferdinand’s wish that he should do so, but he no longer regarded Ferdinand as his master. His influence seemed slight from such a great distance. Ferdinand had neglected his daughter during the years of her widowhood; it was only now that he wrote to her so frequently and so affectionately. Katharine remembered this; and in Fray Diego’s opinion she was more Queen of England than Infanta of Spain.

  He was determined therefore that he was not going to allow his fear of Ferdinand to rob him of the ascendancy he felt he possessed over Ferdinand’s ambassador, towards whom the Queen did not feel as affectionate as she did towards her friend and confessor.

  “It is true,” he said, “that I have not your experience, Don Luis, of these matters. But what you ask is for the Queen’s conscience, and for Her Grace to decide.”

  “Nonsense!” retorted Caroz. “It is a confessor’s duty to guide those who are in his spiritual care. A few careful words, spoken at the appropriate moment, and the Queen will realize her duty.”

  “You mean her duty to her father, I am sure. But there is the possibility that Her Grace might also realize the duty to her husband.”

  “Do you mean that you refuse to obey our master’s commands?”

  “I mean,” said Fray Diego with dignity, “that I will give the matter my consideration and if, after meditation and prayer, I can convince myself that what you ask is good for the soul of Her Grace, I shall do as you say.”

  “And if not…?” burst out Caroz, fuming with indignation.

  “This is a matter for my conscience as well as the Queen’s. That is all I can say.”

  Caroz curtly took his leave and went away fuming. The arrogance of that upstart! he was thinking. A vulgar fellow. It was a great mistake that any but the highest nobility should be entrusted with state matters—and the Queen’s confessor should have been a man of highest integrity and that noble birth which would have kept him loyal to his own kind.

  Caroz soothed his anger by thinking of the account he would send to Ferdinand of this interview.

  You will not long remain in England, my little priest, he prophesied.

  His next call was on Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester—a man who, he knew, had great influence among the King’s ministers.

  Promise them anything, Ferdinand had said, but get in exchange for your promise theirs to work for the English invasion of France.

  Here was a man, thought Luis, who could surely be bribed because as an ambitious man he must be eager for the prizes of power and fame.

  Caroz was proud of his ingenuity, for he had made up his mind what he was going to promise Richard Fox.

  Fox received him with seeming pleasure, but beneath that calm expression of hospitality there was an alertness.

  “I pray you be seated,” said Fox. “This is indeed both an honor and a pleasure.”

  “You are kind, my lord Bishop, and I thank you. I have come here today because I believe it is in my power to do you some service.”

  The Bishop smiled rather ambiguously. He knew that it was a bargain the ambassador would offer rather than a gift.

  “Your kindness warms my heart, Excellency,” he said.

  “It would not be an easy matter to achieve,” admitted Caroz, “but I would ask my master to work for this with all his considerable power—and he has great power.”

  The Bishop was waiting, now almost unable to curb his eagerness.

  “His Holiness plans to create more Cardinals. There are two French Cardinals and it has been suggested that he will present the hat to more Italians and Spaniards. My master is of the opinion that there should be some English holders of the office. I think he would be prepared to consider those for whom he felt some…gratitude.”

  The Bishop, who had been skeptical until this moment, could scarcely hide the great excitement which possessed him. The Cardinal’s hat! The major step towards the highest goal of all churchmen—the Papal Crown.

  Fox had assured himself that he was a man of integrity; he would work for the good of England—but what an honor for England if one of her bishops became a Cardinal; what great glory if one day there should be an English Pope!

  Caroz, exulting inwardly, knew of the conflict which was going on behind the immobile features of the Bishop. What a stroke of genius on his part to think of hinting at a Cardinal’s hat! It was the irresistible bribe. No matter if there was no possibility of the offer’s ever being made; promises such as this were all part of statecraft. How delighted Ferdinand would be with his ambassador when he heard of his ingenuity. It was worthy of Ferdinand himself.

  “I agree with His Highness, King Ferdinand, that there should be a few English Cardinals,” said Fox. “It will be interesting to see if the Pope shares that opinion.”

  “There are few whom I would consider for the office,” said Caroz. “But there are some…there is one.…”

  The Bishop said fervently: “That man would never cease to be grateful to those who helped him to attain such office, I can assure you.”

  “I will pass on your words to my master. As you know, since the alliance of his daughter and the King he has had a great affection for your countrymen. It is something which he does not bear towards the French. Nothing would please him more than to see our two countries set out side by side to conquer our mutual enemy.”

  The Bishop was silent. The terms had been stated. Withdraw your opposition to the project of war, and Ferdinand will use all his considerable influence with the Pope to win you a Cardinal’s hat.

  Was it such a great price? Fox asked himself. Who could say? It might well be that those territories which had once been in English hands would be restored. Surely a matter for rejoicing. And his help might mean that an English Cardinal would be created, and English influence would be felt in Rome.

  Caroz wanted to laugh aloud. It has succeeded, he thought. And why not? What bishop could turn aside from the glory of receiving his Cardinal’s hat?

  He took his leave of the Bishop and went to his own apartments, there to write to his master.

  He wrote that he believed he had found a means of breaking down the opposition to
the beginning of military operations. He added a footnote: “It would seem to me that the Queen’s confessor, Fray Diego Fernandez, works more for England than for Spain, and I would recommend his recall to Spain.”

  Murder in Pamplona

  JEAN D’ALBRET, THAT RICH NOBLEMAN WHO OWNED MUCH of the land in the neighborhood of the Pyrenees, had become King of Navarre through his marriage to Catharine, the Queen of that state.

  It was an ambitious marriage and one which had pleased him at the time he had made it, and still did in some respects. But to possess a crown through a wife was not the most happy way of doing so, and Jean d’Albret, a man who was more attracted by pleasure than ambition, by a love of literature than of conquest, was far from satisfied.

  The times were dangerous and he saw himself caught between two great and militarily minded powers. His was a small state but it was in a strategic position and could be of importance to both France and Spain. Jean knew that Ferdinand had long cast acquisitive eyes on his and Catharine’s crown; and that Louis was determined to keep Navarre as a vassal state.

  It was tiresome. There were so very many interesting matters to occupy a man. War seemed to Jean senseless; and he knew that, if there should be war over Navarre, the Spanish and French sovereigns would see that it took place on Navarrese soil.

  Jean began to think that had he made a less ambitious marriage, say with the daughter of a nobleman as rich as himself, their possessions could have been joined together and they would have remained happily French; and moreover lived the rest of their days in comfort without this perpetual fear of invasion of their territory.

  His wife Catharine came to him, and he saw by the anxious expression on her face that she was even more worried than he was. She was pleased for once to find him alone; usually the fact that he preferred to live as an ordinary nobleman with as little royal style as possible, irritated her; but today she had something of importance to say to him.