‘That is no reason why they should continue to remain here.’

Beatriz was doubtful. Isabella, seeming so strong, was yet vulnerable. What if her Ferdinand were not the man she believed him to be? What if he were as lecherous as Don Pedro, as weak as her half-brother Henry?

‘You will be strong. You will be capable of this, I know,’ said Beatriz. ‘But your partner must be equally strong and devoted to the Faith. How can we know that he is?’

‘You doubt Ferdinand?’

‘I know little of Ferdinand. Isabella, face the truth. What do you know of him?’

‘I know this: that he is my betrothed husband and I will take no other.’

Beatriz was silent awhile. Then she said: ‘Why do you not send a man to Aragon... that he may meet Ferdinand and tell you what you wish to know of him. Let him go there and let him go to France. Let him see the Duke of Guienne and discover what manner of man he is – and let him see Ferdinand and report on him. You could send your chaplain, Alonso de Coca. You could trust him.’

Isabella’s eyes sparkled.

‘I will send him, Beatriz,’ she said. ‘But not because I need reassurance. I will send him that you may be assured that Ferdinand is the husband – and the only husband – for me.’


* * *

The Marquis of Villena called on his uncle, the Archbishop of Toledo. Villena was a little uneasy, because he was unsure of his uncle’s reaction to the turn in events.

Villena was a sly statesman; the Archbishop was a brave fighter and a man who, while seeking self-advancement, must believe in his cause. He was not the man – as his nephew was – to change his loyalties merely because they suited the immediate purpose.

Villena therefore began cautiously: ‘Isabella would never be the puppet that Alfonso was.’

‘It’s true,’ said the Archbishop. ‘We have a real Queen here. One whom it will be our pleasure to serve. My only regret is that she refused to allow herself to be proclaimed Queen. She was right, of course, morally right. But I cannot help thinking that it would have been advantageous for our country if Isabella wore the crown which now is set so unbecomingly on Henry’s head.’

Villena remained silent. His uncle rejoiced in that quality of Isabella’s which he deplored. Villena did not want a woman of purpose to rule Castile. He wanted a puppet whom he could direct. It was not easy to explain this to his fiery uncle.

‘I do not think,’ went on the Archbishop, ‘that Alfonso’s death is such a great calamity after all. I think that in Alfonso’s sister we have our Queen. I give my allegiance to her and I believe she is beginning to understand that I wish to serve her.’ The Archbishop laughed. ‘She is inclined to distrust me. Was I not on the side of the rebels? And Isabella is so loyal to the crown, so determined to uphold its dignity, that she deplores rebels.’

‘Why, Uncle,’ said Villena, ‘you have allowed the young woman to bewitch you.’

‘I admit she impresses me deeply. I feel delighted to serve her.’

‘But, Uncle, what can a girl know of the governing of a country?’

‘Depend upon it, nephew, she will never attempt to do that which is beyond her power. And I do assure you that the governing of the country is something she will quickly learn. Why, Isabella is dedicated to her task – and that is how all Kings and Queens should approach their duties.’

‘H’m,’ said Villena. ‘You have become mild, Uncle.’

‘Mild! Never! But I stand firmly beside our future Queen. And if any attack her, you will not have to complain of the mildness of Alfonso Carillo.’

‘Well, well, you are happy with this turn of events then.’

‘I feel more confident of the future of Castile than I ever did before.’

Villena quickly took his leave of his uncle.

He had nothing to say to him; he knew they had arrived at a great divergence of opinion.

They would no longer work together; they were on opposite sides.


* * *

When Villena left the Archbishop, he made his way to Henry’s apartments.

Henry received him eagerly. He could not show his gratitude sufficiently, so delighted was he to have Villena back in his camp.

Joanna the Queen had left him now. She had been so furious that he had agreed to divorce her that she had gone to Madrid, where she now lived scandalously, taking lover after lover as though in defiance of the verdict which had been passed on her at Toros de Guisando. It had been no use Henry’s explaining to Joanna that he had no intention of keeping his word in regard to what had been laid down at the meeting with Isabella; Joanna was so furious, because he could even have pretended to agree to divorce her, that she had gone off in a rage.

That was of no great matter, for she had long brought him more uneasiness than pleasure; he was happy enough with his own mistresses, and he took care to choose those who would not dabble in politics.

And now here was his dear friend Villena, returned to be his friend and adviser, and so happily take charge of everything and instruct him as to what had to be done.

Villena explained that he had left his uncle and that the Archbishop had given his allegiance to Isabella, as he Villena had to Alfonso.

‘He is a single-minded man,’ said Villena. ‘He can blind himself to his own advantages at times. After all, he is a man of the Church and he needs to have faith in something. He has now put that faith in Isabella. She has managed to appeal to his sense of righteousness. It is regrettable, Highness, for we have lost a useful ally.’

‘My dear Villena, I believe you will do very well without him.’

‘That may be. But I am a little disturbed about our Isabella. I was hoping a marriage with England or France would attract her. It would be comforting to know that she was no longer in Castile.’

Henry nodded.

‘It would be so very simple, if she were not here,’ went on Villena, ‘to proclaim the little Joanna heiress to the throne.’

‘So much easier,’ admitted Henry.

‘Well, she declines England; she is preparing to decline France. You know why. She has set her heart on Ferdinand.’ Villena’s face hardened. Not on any account was he going to allow the match with Aragon to become an accomplished fact. That would be the end of his ambitions, he knew. Isabella and Ferdinand together would be formidable opponents of his plans. Villena knew exactly what he wanted. A puppet King, a puppet heir, and himself the most powerful man in Castile. Where could he find a more suitable puppet King than Henry, where a more pliable puppet heiress than La Beltraneja? It was awkward to have to switch loyalties in this way, but he saw no help for it. Isabella had clearly shown that she would not be his puppet. Therefore Isabella must go.

‘We cannot have meddlesome Ferdinand here. He would be ruling Castile in no time. That is why I propose to send an embassy into Portugal. Alfonso, I have reason to believe, will be ready to renew his suit.’

‘It is an excellent plan,’ said Henry. ‘If Isabella married him she would be Queen of Portugal.’

‘And that would take her finally from the Castilian scene,’ added Villena.

‘Then let us send an embassy to Portugal.’

‘Highness, I have already forestalled your command. The embassy has left for Portugal.’

‘You always do exactly what I would do myself,’ said Henry.

‘It is my greatest pleasure, Highness. And I have further news. Many powerful noblemen, including the Mendozas, disagree with the treaty of Toros de Guisando. They declare that the Infanta Joanna has not been proved illegitimate and that she, not Isabella, is the true heir to the throne.’

‘Oh?’ said Henry mildly.

‘I think,’ went on Villena slyly, ‘that when our Isabella has left for Portugal we shall have no difficulty in proclaiming your little daughter heir to the throne.’

‘It is what I would wish,’ said Henry. ‘Then, with Isabella in Portugal and Joanna proclaimed heiress of the throne of Castile, there would be no more strife. We should have peace.’


* * *

Beatriz came hurrying to her mistress’s apartment in the Castle at Ocaña, in which Isabella was resident.

‘Highness, Alonso de Coca has returned.’

‘Then bring him to me at once,’ said Isabella.

The chaplain was brought to her presence and Isabella received him with affection.

‘It seems long since you went away,’ she told him.

‘Highness, it was only the desire to obey your command which kept me, so great was my longing for Castile.’

Beatriz was chafing with impatience.

‘Come, sit down,’ said Isabella, ‘and you shall tell me what you saw in the Courts of France and Aragon.’

Alonso de Coca then began to tell his mistress of the manners of the French Court, and how the shabby King was so parsimonious that even his own courtiers were ashamed of him.

Beatriz cried. ‘And what of the Duke of Guienne?’

Alonso de Coca shook his head. ‘Why, Infanta, he is a feeble man, more like a woman than a man in manner. Moreover, his legs are weak so that he cannot dance, and he seems almost deformed. His eyes are weak also; they water continually, which gives the impression that he is always in tears.’

‘I do not think I should care much for such a husband,’ said Isabella looking demurely at Beatriz. ‘And what of your stay at the Court of Aragon? Did you set eyes on Ferdinand?’

‘I did, Highness.’

‘Well, well,’ said the impatient Beatriz, ‘what of Ferdinand? Do his eyes water? Is he weak on his legs?’

Alonso de Coca laughed. ‘Ah, my Princesa, ah, my lady, Ferdinand bears no resemblance to the Duke of Guienne. His figure is all that the figure of a young Prince should be. His eyes flash; they do not water. His legs are so strong that he can do more than dance; he can fight beside his father and win the admiration of all by his bravery. He is fair of face and high of spirit. He is that Prince who could be most worthy of a young, beautiful and spirited Princess.’

Isabella was looking in triumph at Beatriz, who grimaced and murmured: ‘Well, I rejoice. I rejoice with all my heart. It is not as I feared. I say now: “Long life and happiness to Isabella and Ferdinand.”’


* * *

One of the pages came hurrying to the apartment of Beatriz, where she was chatting with Mencia de la Torre.

The page was white and trembling, and Beatriz was alarmed. She knew that, when anything disturbing happened, the servants always wished her to break the news to Isabella.

‘What now?’ she asked.

‘My lady, a paper was nailed to the gates last night.’

‘What paper was this?’

‘Shall I have it brought to you, my lady?’

‘With all speed.’

The page went out, and Beatriz turned to Mencia. ‘What now?’ she murmured. ‘Oh, I fear that our Princess is far from the arms of her Ferdinand.’

‘She should send for him,’ said Mencia. ‘He would surely come.’

‘You forget that at Toros de Guisando she promised that she would not marry without the consent of the King, as he in turn promised that she should not be forced into marriage against her will. Do you not see that it could quite well be that Isabella will never marry at all, for such conditions, it seems, could produce a deadlock. It is for this reason that she does not communicate with Aragon. Isabella would keep her promise. But I wonder what has happened, and what paper this is.’

The page returned and handed it to Beatriz.

She read it quickly and said to Mencia: ‘This is the work of her enemies. They declare that the proceedings at Toros de Guisando were not valid, that the Princess Joanna has not been proved illegitimate and is therefore heiress to the throne. They do not accept Isabella.’

Beatriz screwed up the paper in her hands.

She murmured: ‘I see stormy days ahead for Isabella... and Ferdinand.’


* * *

It was an angry Marquis of Villena who rode to Ocaña to visit Isabella.

He was determined to show her that she must obey the King’s wishes – which were his own – and that she had offended deeply by her refusal of the King of Portugal.

She had received the Archbishop of Lisbon in her castle at Ocaña and, when he had put forward the proposals of his master, she had told him quite firmly that she had no intention of marrying the King of Portugal. The Archbishop of Lisbon had retired to his lodgings in Ocaña in great pique, declaring that this was a direct insult to his master.