Isabella felt rather pleased that Juana was no longer with them.

She was praying – she spent a great deal of time praying – that this young girl would make Juan happy. She hoped that she would be a gentle, religious girl. It would be heartbreaking if she were a wanton; and Isabella knew that stories were already reaching Spain of this girl’s brother’s conduct.

The Queen was very anxious about Juana, and the Flemish marriage was her greatest concern at the moment. Their father of course was only congratulating himself because the alliance had been made, and that Juana would be the mother of the Habsburg heirs. It would seem unimportant to him if she were wretchedly unhappy while she was producing them.

Maria was placidly relaxed while her attendants dressed her. She was as emotionless as ever. Stolid Maria, who lacked the imagination to wonder what Margaret felt on coming into a new country, to wonder whether she herself would not be doing the same in a future which was not really very distant!

How different it was with Catalina. Her little face was set and anxious, and it was not difficult to guess at the thoughts which went on behind those big dark eyes.

Poor little Catalina! She was going to suffer a terrible wrench if she ever went to England.

An attendant came to the apartment and whispered to Isabella that the Queen’s Highness wished to see her without delay, and she was to present herself in the Queen’s bedchamber.

Young Isabella left her sisters at once and went to her mother’s apartment.

The Queen was waiting for her, and Isabella’s heart sank as she looked at her, for she guessed what she had to say.

The Queen kissed the Princess and said: ‘There is news from Portugal. I wanted to tell you myself. I wanted to prepare you. Your father will doubtless be speaking of this matter when he sees you.’

Isabella’s mouth had gone dry. ‘Yes, Mother,’ she said.

‘Emanuel writes that since we insist on this condition he is ready to accept it.’

Isabella’s pale cheeks were suddenly flushed. She cried out: ‘You mean he will drive all those people out of his country just because …’

‘Just because he is so eager for this marriage. So, my dear, you should really begin to plan your departure for Portugal.’

‘So … soon?’ stammered Isabella.

‘I’m afraid your father wishes the marriage to take place this year.’

‘Oh … no!’

‘It is so. Dear Isabella, I shall insist that we meet again soon after you leave us. If you do not come to me here in Spain, I will come to you in Portugal.’

‘Mother, do you promise this?’

‘I swear it.’

Isabella was silent. Then she burst out: ‘Is there nothing I can do …? I did not think he would agree to this …’

‘He wants this marriage. You should rejoice. It is more than a good marriage. On his side it is a love-match.’

‘But there is my side, Mother.’

‘You will love him in time. I know, my child. I am sure of it. He is a good and gentle man and he loves you dearly. You have nothing to fear.’

‘But, Mother, this condition …’

‘But shows how much he loves you.’

‘I know that he does it against his will.’

‘That is because, good as he is, he has a certain blindness. That holy man, Tomás de Torquemada, sees in this the hand of God.’

Isabella shuddered. She wanted to shout that she did not like Torquemada, that she feared him, and when her cough kept her awake at night she fancied she heard the curses of the exiled Jews.

Her mother would not understand such flights of fancy. How could she explain to her? Her emotions seemed to choke her, and she feared that if she did not calm herself one of her bouts of coughing would overtake her.

She tried not to cough in front of her mother, because she knew how it worried the Queen. It was enough that Juana gave her such anxieties.

She said: ‘Mother, if you will excuse me, I will go back to my apartment. I have some more preparations to make if I am to be ready when the party arrives.’

The Queen nodded assent and, when her daughter had gone, murmured to herself: ‘All will be well. This is the best thing that could happen to my Isabella.’


* * *

Isabella the Queen took the daughter of Maximilian in her arms and embraced her.

There were tears in Isabella’s eyes. The girl was charming; she was healthy; and it seemed to her that Juan was already very happy with his bride.

Ferdinand looked on, his eyes agleam. It was very pleasant to be able to share in the general delight.

‘We welcome you to Burgos,’ said the Queen. ‘I could not express how eager we have been for your coming.’

‘I am happy to be here, Your Highness.’

The girl’s smile was perhaps too warm, too friendly.

I must remember, the Queen told herself, that she has lived long in Flanders and the Flemish have little sense of decorum.

The Princesses Isabella, Maria and Catalina came forward and formally welcomed Margaret.

They thought her strange with her Flemish clothes, her fresh complexion and her familiar manners; but they liked her. Even Maria seemed to grow a little animated as she watched her. As for Catalina, she took great courage from this girl, who seemed quite unperturbed that she had come to a land of strangers to marry a man whom she had only recently met.

A banquet had been prepared, and Juan and his bride sat with the King and Queen; and they talked of the jousting and festivities which had been arranged to celebrate the marriage.

‘It is a pity that it is Lent,’ said the Queen. ‘But as soon as it is over the nuptials shall be solemnised. We think that the third of April shall be the day of the wedding.’

Catalina looked quickly at the face of the Flemish Archduchess; she was relieved to see that the mention of a date for her wedding did not seem to disturb her.


* * *

It was the most magnificent spectacle seen in Spain for many years.

This was, after all, the wedding of the heir to the throne. It seemed more than the celebration of a wedding. Spain had never seemed to hold out such hopes of a prosperous future for her people. The prospects for peace were brighter than they had been for many years. No more taxes to pay for useless battles! No more forcing men from their peaceful labours to fight in the armies! Peace meant prosperity – and it seemed that here it was at last.

The charming young bridegroom would be the first heir of the whole of Spain, and the people had come to realise that a united Spain was happier to live in than a country divided into kingdoms which were continually warring with each other.

Even the frugal Isabella was determined that this marriage of her only son should be an occasion which all should remember, and she was therefore ready to spend a great deal of money in making it so.

All over the country there were tourneys and fêtes. Towns were gaily decorated throughout the land. Across the narrow streets in the smallest villages banners hung.

‘Long life to the heir!’ cried the people. ‘Blessings on the Prince of the Asturias and his bride!’

The marriage was celebrated with the greatest dignity and ceremony. The Archbishop of Toledo performed it, and with him were the grandees of Castile and the nobility of Aragon. It was a sight of great magnificence and splendour.

And as Margaret made her vows once more she compared her bridegroom with that boy of twelve to whom she had been betrothed in a farmhouse near the château of Amboise, and again she rejoiced in her good fortune.


* * *

Juan had dreaded the moment when they would be alone together. He had imagined the terrors of a young girl who might not fully understand what would be required of her, and himself explaining as gently as he could; he had not relished the task.

When they lay in the marriage bed it was Margaret who spoke first.

‘Juan,’ she said, ‘you are afraid of me.’

‘I am afraid that I might distress you,’ he answered.

‘No,’ she told him. ‘I shall not be distressed.’

‘Are you never distressed, Margaret?’

‘Not by that which must be.’

Juan lifted her hand and kissed it. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘As you say, what must be, must be.’

Then she laughed suddenly and, pulling her hand away from him, she put her arms about him.

‘I am so glad that you are as you are, Juan,’ she said. ‘I am sure nothing you do could possibly distress me. When I think that it might have been Charles lying beside me at this moment …’ She shivered.

‘Charles? The King of France?’

‘He has thick lips, and he grunts. He is not unkind but he would be coarse and … he would never understand me.’

‘I hope to understand you, Margaret.’

‘Call me Margot,’ she said. ‘It is my special name … the name I like those whom I love to call me by.’

‘Do you love me then, Margot?’

‘I think so, Juan. I think I must, because … I am not afraid.’

And so the difficulty was soon over, and that which had alarmed them became a pleasure. She taught him to laugh in her gay Flemish way, and he found himself fascinated by her familiar talk which might have seemed coarse on some lips, never on hers.

‘Oh Juan,’ she cried, ‘I thought my bones would now be lying on the sea bed and the big fishes would have eaten my flesh, and the little ones sport about my skeleton and swim in and out of the sockets of my eyes.’

‘Don’t say such things,’ he said, kissing her eyes.

‘I said, “Here lies Margot. She was twice married but she died a virgin.”’ Then she began to laugh afresh. ‘That can never be my epitaph now, Juan. For here lies Margot … beside you … but she is no longer a virgin … and she is not displeased.’

So they made love again, without fear or shame.

And in the morning Juan said: ‘We have given our parents what they wanted.’

Margaret interrupted: ‘The crown of Spain.’

Juan chanted: ‘The Habsburg inheritance.’

Then they laughed and began to kiss in a sudden frenzy of passion. Margaret drew herself away from him and kneeling on the bed bowed her head as though before the thrones of the King and Queen.

‘We thank Your Gracious Majesties. You may keep the crown of Spain …’

‘And the Habsburg inheritance …’ added Juan.

‘Because …’ began Margaret, smiling at him.

‘Because,’ added Juan, ‘you gave us each other.’


* * *

The wedding celebrations continued. The most popular person in the whole of Spain was the young Prince Juan. It was said of him that since the coming of Margaret he looked more like a man than an angel, but his sweetness of expression had not grown less. His bride was clearly a happy girl. It was small wonder that wherever they went there was rejoicing.

The Queen discussed with her husband her pleasure in this marriage.

‘You see,’ said Ferdinand, ‘how well it has turned out. This was a marriage of my making. You will admit that I knew what I was about.’

‘You have acted with the utmost wisdom,’ Isabella agreed. ‘You have given our Juan a share in the Habsburg inheritance – and happiness.’

‘Who would not be happy with a share in the Habsburg inheritance?’ demanded Ferdinand.

Isabella’s face was anxious. ‘I do not like these rumours I hear about Juana. She is so far from home …’

‘Nonsense! All will be well. She will adjust herself. The Flemings have different manners from our own. I have heard that she is passionately attached to her husband.’

‘Too passionately attached.’

‘My dear Isabella, can a wife love her husband too much?’

‘If he is not kind to her it would be easier for her to bear if she did not love him dearly.’

‘Strange words on your lips! You seem to imply it is a virtue that a wife should not love her husband dearly.’

‘You misunderstand me.’

‘Ah, have no fear for Juana. Rumour often lies.’

The Queen knew that he could not think of their daughter, Juana, without remembering all the advantages her marriage had brought to Spain. It was no use expecting him to see the personal view. He was quite incapable of that. He had hardened with the years. Have I softened? Isabella asked herself. No, it is merely that having so many loved ones I have become more vulnerable.

Ferdinand said abruptly: ‘Why should there be this delay with our daughter Isabella? Emanuel grows impatient.’