‘Ferdinand would have no hand in murder!’

‘Indeed no. How could he? He is only a boy. But his mother – and his father too, for she has prevailed upon him to become so – are overweeningly ambitious for him. When his mother took Ferdinand into Catalonia, to receive the oath of allegiance, the people rose in anger. They said that the ghost of Ferdinand’s half-brother, Carlos, walked the streets of Barcelona crying out that he was the victim of murder and that the people should avenge him. They say that miracles have been performed at his grave, and that he was a saint.’

‘He asked for my hand in marriage,’ said Isabella with a shudder. ‘And shortly afterwards he died.’

‘Ferdinand is intended for you.’

‘Yes, Ferdinand and no other,’ said Isabella firmly.

‘It was necessary for the Queen of Aragon and her son Ferdinand to fly from Barcelona to Gerona; and there, with Ferdinand, she took possession of the fortress. I have heard that the fierce Catalans almost captured that fortress, and only the Queen’s courage and resource saved their lives.’

‘He was in such danger, and I did not know it,’ murmured Isabella. ‘Tell me... what is happening to him now?’

Beatriz shook her head. ‘That I cannot say, but I have heard that the war persists in the dominions of the King of Aragon and that King John and Queen Joan will continue to be blamed for the murder of Carlos.’

‘It is a terrible thing to have happened.’

‘It was the only way for Ferdinand to become his father’s heir.’

‘He knew nothing of it,’ affirmed Isabella. ‘He can never be blamed.’

And to herself she said: Nor could Alfonso be if they insisted on putting him in Henry’s place.

‘I think,’ she said aloud, ‘that there are stormy days ahead for both Castile and Aragon – for Ferdinand and perhaps for me.’

‘A country divided against itself provides perpetual danger,’ said Beatriz solemnly; then her eyes sparkled. ‘But it will not be long before Ferdinand comes to claim you. You will be married. I shall be married. And, Princesa, you said that, when we were, we should still be... friends.’

Isabella was astonished that she could be so touched by this offer of friendship.

She said in subdued tones: ‘I think it is time that I returned to my apartments.’

Beatriz sank to her knees and Isabella swept past her. But not before Beatriz had lifted her face and Isabella had given her a swift, almost shy smile.

From that moment Isabella had a new friend.


* * *

The Queen’s little daughter lay on her silken cushions under a canopy in the state apartments, and one by one the great nobles came forward to kiss her hand and swear allegiance to her as heiress of the throne of Castile.

Beltran de la Cueva looked down at her with satisfaction. His position was unique. So many suspected that he was the baby’s father, and yet, instead of this suspicion arousing the wrath of the King, it had made Henry feel more kindly towards him.

He could see a glorious future before him; he could still remain the Queen’s very good friend, the King’s also. And the child – now generally known as La Beltraneja – was to inherit the throne.

He fancied he had behaved with great skill in a difficult situation.

As he stood smiling with satisfaction his eyes met those of the Archbishop of Toledo, and he was quickly conscious of the smouldering anger there.

Rant as much as you like, my little Archbishop! thought Beltran. Plot with your sly nephew whose nose has been considerably put out of joint during this last year. I care not for you... nor does the King nor the Queen, nor this baby here. There is nothing you can do to harm us.

But Beltran de la Cueva, gallant courtier though he was, so expert in the jousts, such an elegant dancer, lacked the sly cunning necessary to make of himself a statesman. He did not know that, even while they kissed the baby’s hand and swore allegiance, the Archbishop and his nephew were planning to have her proclaimed illegitimate and oust her father from the throne.


* * *

The Marquis of Villena called on the King. Henry was with his favourite mistress. There had been many since Alegre, and if she had been mentioned in his hearing it was doubtful whether he would now have remembered her name.

Henry had grown more indolent with the years. He was pleased that the royal cradle was at last occupied, and did not want to raise the question as to how this could have come about. Suffice it that there was an heir to the throne.

There were entertainments to be planned – those orgies which were growing more and more wild in an endeavour by those, whose duty it was, to tempt his jaded palate.

What new schemes, Henry was wondering, had they thought of this time? What pleasures would they show him that could give him new sensations, or could help him to recapture the old?

Then the Marquis of Villena was announced and with him, to Henry’s dismay, was that villainous uncle of his, the Archbishop. Reluctantly and with a show of irritation Henry dismissed his mistress.

‘We crave leave to speak to you, Highness, on a very important matter,’ said Villena.

Henry yawned. Angry lights shot up in the Archbishop’s eyes but Villena flashed a warning glance at him.

‘I think, Highness,’ said the Marquis, ‘that this matter is one to which it would be well to give your close attention.’

‘Well, what is it?’ Henry demanded ungraciously.

‘Grave suspicions have been cast on the legitimacy of the little Princess.’

Henry shrugged his shoulders. ‘There are always rumours.’

‘These are more than rumours, Highness.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘We fear something will have to be done. The peace of the country is threatened.’

‘If people would stop meddling we should have peace.’

‘The people must be assured,’ said the Archbishop, ‘that the heiress to the throne is the legitimate heiress.’

‘The Princess is my daughter. Is not my daughter the legitimate heir to the throne?’

‘Only if she is your daughter, Highness.’

‘You are not going to say that another child was smuggled into the Queen’s bed?’

‘Rather, Highness,’ said Villena with a snigger, ‘that another lover was smuggled therein.’

‘Gossip! Scandal!’ muttered Henry. ‘A plague on them. Have done. Let us accept what is. There is an heiress to the throne. The people have been crying out for an heir; now they have one let them be satisfied.’

‘They’ll not be satisfied with a bastard, Highness,’ said the fierce Archbishop.

‘What is this talk?’

‘Highness,’ said Villena, almost placatingly, ‘you should know that throughout the Court the Princess is known by the name of La Beltraneja – after the man who, the majority are beginning to declare, is her father, Beltran de la Cueva.’

‘But this is monstrous,’ said the King with a mildness which exasperated the Archbishop.

‘Your Highness,’ went on Villena, ‘puts yourself in a difficult position by showering honours on the man who is believed to have cuckolded you.’

Henry laughed. ‘You are angered because honours and titles have gone to him which you believe should have found their way to you two. That is the point, is it not?’

‘Your Highness surely will admit that it is unseemly to honour the man who has deceived you and attempted to foist his bastard upon you?’

‘Oh, have done. Have done. Let the matter be, and let us have peace.’

‘I am afraid, Highness, that is not possible. Certain of your ministers are demanding an enquiry into the birth of the child you are calling your daughter.’

‘And if I forbid it?’

‘Highness, that would be most unwise.’

‘I am the King,’ said Henry, hoping his voice sounded strong yet fearing that it was very weak.

‘Highness, it is because we wish you to remain King that we beg you to give this matter your closest attention,’ whispered Villena.

‘Let them leave me in peace. The matter is done with. There is a Princess in the royal cradle. Leave it at that.’

‘It is impossible, Highness. There is also a Prince in the Palace now, your half-brother Alfonso. There are many who say that, should the new-born child be proved a bastard, he should be named as your successor.’

‘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.