She received him at once.

‘Highness,’ he said, ‘I come on behalf of my fellow citizens. We are in great peril, and so are you. We have received word from the King that you are about to be placed under arrest and that, should we attempt to help you, we shall suffer greatly. I have come to warn you to escape, for, in view of these threats, we of Madrigal dare do nothing to help you.’

Isabella graciously thanked him for his warning and sent for two of her servants, both of whom she knew she could completely trust.

‘I want you to take two messages for me – one to the Archbishop of Toledo and the other to Admiral Henriquez,’ she said. ‘This is a matter of the utmost urgency. There is not a second to lose. You will go at once, and with all speed.’

As soon as they had gone she sent her page to summon Beatriz and Mencia to her presence, and when the women arrived she said calmly: ‘We are leaving Madrigal. I want you to go ahead of me. Go to Coca... it is not far; and wait for me there.’

Beatriz was about to protest, but there were times when Isabella reminded her that she was the mistress, and Beatriz was always quick to appreciate her meaning.

A little hurt, the two women retired, and Isabella was uneasy until they had left. She knew that if the Bishop of Seville arrived to arrest her, he would take prisoner her confidential women also, and she wished to save Beatriz and Mencia even if she could not save herself.

They would be safe in Coca. She would not be. She needed to be under the safe protection of strong men.

Now began the anxious vigil when Isabella waited at her window. Soon she would hear the sound of advancing cavalry and shouts from below, and her future might depend upon this day’s events. She did not know what would happen to her if she fell into the hands of the Bishop of Seville. She would be the King’s prisoner – or more accurately, Villena’s – and she did not think she would easily regain her freedom.

Then what would the future hold for her? An enforced marriage? With Alfonso of Portugal? With Richard of Gloucester? They would rid themselves of her in some way. They would wish to banish her either to Portugal or England. And if she refused?

Would it be the old familiar pattern? Would her servants find her one morning as Alfonso’s had found him?

And Ferdinand? What of him? Eagerly he had accepted the marriage agreement. He understood, she was sure, even as she did, the glory that could come from the union of Castile and Aragon. But once she fell into the hands of the Archbishop of Seville, once Villena became the master of her fate, that would be the end of all their dreams and hopes.

And so she waited.

At length she heard what she listened for, and then... she saw him, the fiery, militant Archbishop of Toledo, now her loyal servant, ready to snatch her from under the very nose of the Bishop of Burgos who had meant to offer her up to his uncle, Villena.

She heard that resounding voice.

‘Conduct me to the Princess Isabella.’

He stood before her.

‘Highness, there is little time to lose. I have soldiers below. Enough to ensure our safe departure from this place, but it would be better if we left before Seville arrives with his troop. Come with all speed.’

And so Isabella rode away from Madrigal only a little while before the Archbishop of Seville arrived to find the prize was gone.

‘On!’ cried Alfonso Carillo, Archbishop of Toledo, from now on Isabella’s most firm supporter. ‘On to Valladolid, where we can be sure of a loyal welcome for the future Queen of Castile.’


* * *

What joy it was to be received with acclaim by the citizens of Valladolid, and to know that they looked upon her as their future Queen.

But when the triumphant parade was over the Archbishop came to Isabella and reminded her – as she knew already – that this was no time for delay.

‘I know my nephew, the Marquis of Villena,’ said the Archbishop. ‘He is a man of great resource, and he is as sly as a fox. I would meet him happily enough on the field of battle, but I would not care to have to match myself against his devious diplomacy. There is one thing we must do and that with all speed: hasten the marriage.’

‘I am willing that we should proceed with all haste,’ Isabella assured him.

‘Then, Highness, I will despatch envoys at once to Saragossa, and this time we will inform Ferdinand that it is imperative that he set out for Castile with all speed.’

‘Let it be done,’ said Isabella.


* * *

When Villena heard that Isabella had escaped him he was furious.

‘And to think,’ he said, ‘that it was due to my own uncle.’ Then he laughed, and there was a note of pride in his laughter. ‘Trust the old man to get there before that fool, Seville.’ And it amused him that members of his family should be deciding the fate of Castile even though they were now on opposite sides.

He went to the King.

‘I know my uncle, and I’ll swear that his first action will be to bring Ferdinand into Castile. He will marry him to Isabella, and thus we shall have not only Isabella’s adherents but Aragon against us. Moreover, once Isabella is married we cannot hope to rid ourselves of her. It is imperative that Ferdinand and Isabella never meet.’

‘But how shall we prevent this?’

‘By taking Ferdinand prisoner as soon as he sets foot in Castile.’

‘You can do this? But how?’

‘Highness, we must do it. Let us make our plans. He will come through the frontier town of Osma. There he will receive the aid of Medina Celi. So he believes. We must make sure that Medina Celi is our man... not Isabella’s.’

‘That will not be easy,’ said the King.

‘But we will make sure of it,’ answered Villena. His eyes narrowed. ‘I will threaten our little Duke of Medina Celi with the direst penalties if he should aid Ferdinand. I assure Your Highness that Medina Celi will watch on our behalf, and the moment Ferdinand arrives we shall be informed. The King and Queen of Aragon went to great lengths to make him the heir to their crown. We will go to as great lengths to make sure he never touches that of Castile. Of course I have Your Highness’s permission to deal with Medina Celi?’

‘You must do as you wish, but how glad I shall be when all this strife is at an end.’

‘Leave this matter to me, Highness. Once we have curbed our haughty Isabella... once she is safely despatched to Portugal or... elsewhere... then, I promise you, there shall be peace in this land.’

‘I pray the saints it will be soon,’ sighed Henry.


* * *

When the embassy arrived at Saragossa, John of Aragon found himself in a quandary.

He sent for Ferdinand.

‘Here is a pretty state of affairs,’ he said. ‘I hear from the Archbishop of Toledo that Villena is trying to prevent the match; and the Archbishop fears he will succeed unless the marriage takes place immediately. He suggests that you set out at once for Valladolid.’

‘Well, Father, I am ready.’

John of Aragon groaned. ‘My son, how can you go into Castile as Isabella’s bridegroom, when there are no more than three hundred enriques in the treasury? What sort of figure will you cut!’

Ferdinand looked grave. ‘I cannot go as a beggar, Father.’

‘I do not know how else you can go. I had hoped that there would be a little respite to enable me to get the money for your journey. I am making you King of Sicily so that you will enter Castile with the rank of King, but how can we possibly send you without the necessary pomp, the glittering garments and all that you will need for your wedding?’

‘Then we must wait...’

‘To delay could be to lose Isabella. Villena is working with all his might against the match. I believe his plan is to rid Castile of Isabella – perhaps by marriage, perhaps by other methods – and no doubt set up La Beltraneja in her place. My son, you may have to fight your way to Isabella...’ John stopped, and a smile spread across his face. ‘Why, Ferdinand, I think I have the solution to our problem. Listen to me. I will tell you briefly and then we will lay this plan before a secret council.’

‘I am eager to hear what you propose, Father,’ said Ferdinand.

‘The frontier from Almazin to Guadalajara will be dangerous for you to cross. It is the property of the Mendoza family which, as you know, supports La Beltraneja. If you travelled as yourself, with the embassy, nobles and servants, you would find it impossible to cross that frontier unobserved.

But what say you, my son, if you went with a party of merchants? What if you were disguised as one of their servants? I’ll warrant then that you would travel to Valladolid unmolested.’

Ferdinand wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘In the attire of a servant, Father!’

John put his arm about the young man’s shoulder.

‘It is the answer,’ he cried. ‘You will remember, Ferdinand, that a kingdom is at stake. Now I consider this, I see that it is the only manner in which you could hope to reach Isabella in safety. And think! It provides us with the excuse we need. What folly to equip you as a King when you travel as a merchant’s lackey!’


* * *

As soon as the innkeeper received the party of merchants he noticed their lackey. The fellow had an insolent air, and it was clear that he thought himself superior to the position he occupied.

‘Here, fellow,’ cried the innkeeper when the merchants were being ushered to the table, ‘you’ll need to go to the stables and see that your masters’ mules are being watered and fed.’

The arrogant fellow’s eyes flashed, and for a moment the innkeeper thought he struck an attitude as though he would draw his sword – if he possessed one.

One of the merchants intervened. ‘My good host, let your grooms attend to our mules... water and feed them while we ourselves are at table. As for our servant here, he will wait upon us.’

‘As you wish, good sirs,’ was the answer.

‘And,’ went on the merchant, ‘bring in the dishes. Our man will do the rest. We would be left in peace to eat our meal as we have business to discuss.’

‘I am at your service, my masters.’

When the landlord had left them, Ferdinand grimaced.

‘I fear I make an indifferent lackey.’

‘Considering that Your Highness has never played the part before, you do it very well.’

‘Yet I fancy the man believes me to be an unusual servant, and that is what we must avoid. I shall be glad when the role is ended. It becomes me not.’

Ferdinand touched the rough cloth of his serving-man’s doublet with distaste. He was young enough to be vain of his personal appearance, and because all through his life he had lived in fear of losing his inheritance, his dignity was especially dear to him. He was less philosophical than his father, and less able to stomach the indignity of creeping into Castile like a beggar. He had to accept the fact that Castile and Leon were of greater significance than Aragon; and it went hard with him that he, a man and prospective husband, should have to take second place with his future wife.

It should not continue to be so, he told himself, once he and Isabella were married.

‘It will not be long, Highness,’ he was told, ‘that you have to masquerade thus. When we reach the castle of the Count of Trevino in Osma it will not be necessary for you to travel thus ignobly. And Trevino is waiting for us with a right good welcome.’

‘I can scarcely wait for our arrival at Osma.’

The innkeeper had come in to usher into the room a servant who carried a steaming dish of olla podrida. It smelt good, and for a moment the men sniffed at it so hungrily that Ferdinand, who had been leaning against the table talking to the merchants, forgot to adopt the attitude of a servant.

So surprised was the innkeeper that he stopped and stared.

Ferdinand immediately understood and tried to put on a humble air, but he felt he had betrayed himself.

When he was again alone with his friends, he said: ‘I hope the innkeeper does not suspect that we are not what we pretend to be.’

‘We will soon deal with him, Highness, should he show too much curiosity.’

Ferdinand said it would be better if he were not addressed as Highness until the journey was over.

As they were eating their meal, one of the men looked up suddenly and saw a face at the window. It disappeared immediately, so that he was not sure whether it had been that of the innkeeper or one of his servants.