He could not postpone passing on the news to Villena. The Marquis would hear of it from some other source if he delayed.

He asked the page to bring Villena to his presence, and when the Marquis came, with a helpless shrug he handed him Isabella’s letter.

Villena’s face became purple with rage.

‘The marriage has actually taken place!’ he cried.

‘That is what she says.’

‘But this is monstrous. Ferdinand in Castile! I know what we must expect from that young man. There is none more ambitious in the whole of Spain.’

‘I do not think Isabella would attempt to usurp the throne,’ said Henry mildly.

‘Isabella! What say will she have in affairs does Your Highness think? She will be led into revolt. Holy Mother, on one side this ambitious young husband, and on the other my uncle Carillo who is thirsting for battle. This marriage should have been prevented at all costs.’

‘So far there is little harm done.’

Villena scowled and averted his gaze from the King.

He said: ‘There is one thing we must do. The Princess Joanna is now nearly nine years old. We shall find a suitable bridegroom for her and she shall be declared the rightful heiress of Castile.’ He began to laugh. ‘Then our young gallant from Aragon may begin to wonder whether he has made such a brilliant marriage after all.’

‘But Isabella has many supporters. Valladolid is firmly behind her. So are many other towns.’

‘We have Albuquerque; we have the Mendozas. I doubt not that many others will rally to our cause. Would to God that your Queen would not create such scandal in Madrid! It lends some truth to the slander that the Princess Joanna is not your daughter.’

‘My dear Villena, do you believe she is?’

Villena’s face grew a shade more purple.

‘I believe the Princess Joanna to be the true heir to the crowns of Castile and Leon,’ he retorted; ‘and by God and all his saints, ill shall befall any who reject that belief.’

Henry sighed.

Why, why, he pondered, were people so tiresome? Why must Villena be so fierce? Why must Isabella make this marriage which was so upsetting to them all?

‘Is there never to be peace?’ he demanded fretfully.

‘Yes,’ said Villena contemptuously, ‘when Isabella and her ambitious Ferdinand learn that they must stand aside for the true heiress of Castile.’

‘That,’ said Henry peevishly, ‘they will never learn.’

But Villena was not listening. He was already busy with plans.


* * *

It was an unusual little Court at Dueñas. There was so little money that it was often difficult to pay for their food and that of their servants. Yet Isabella had never been so happy in her life.

She was deeply in love with Ferdinand, and he was the most passionate and the most kind of husbands. He was delighted that her intelligence matched her physical charms and that she had a deep knowledge of political affairs.

Perhaps those months seemed so precious to them both because they knew that they were transient. They would not always live in such humble state. The day must come when they would leave their humble lodgings and take up residence in one of the castles, and all the pomp and ceremonies which surrounded the sovereigns of Castile and Leon be theirs.

Ferdinand longed for that day; and, in a way, so did Isabella. The delightful intimacies of this life would be lost perhaps, but for all her joy in it, Isabella must not forget that she and Ferdinand had been brought together, not for dalliance in sensuous pleasure, but to make of Spain a mighty country, to unite all Spaniards, to bring them to the true religion, to rid the country of its existing anarchy, to bring back law and order, and to release every acre of Spanish soil from the domination of the Infidel.

And a few months after her marriage, Isabella, to her great joy, discovered that she was pregnant.

Ferdinand embraced her with delight when he heard the news.

‘Why, my Isabella,’ he said, ‘you are indeed possessed of all the virtues. You are not only beautiful and of great intellect, you are fruitful! It is more than I dared hope for. But you look complacent, my love!’

She was complacent. She knew that she would give birth to great rulers. It was her destiny to do so.


* * *

In the monastery of Loyola, not far from Segovia, the King with the Marquis of Villena, the Duke of Albuquerque and several members of the influential Mendoza family and other highly placed noblemen had gathered in the company of the French ambassadors.

There was one present who was not often seen at such assemblies; this was Joanna, the Queen of Castile, who had come from Madrid to play a special part in these proceedings.

Henry addressed the assembly, Villena on one side of him and his Queen on the other.

‘My friends,’ said the King, ‘we are gathered here for a special purpose and I pray you listen to me and give me your support. We are beset by conflict which could at any moment break into civil war. My half-sister Isabella – as did her brother Alfonso before her – has set herself up as heiress of Castile and Leon. I do not forget that at one time I named her heiress to the throne. That was in the treaty of Toros de Guisando. There she agreed not to marry without my approval. She has broken her word. Therefore I declare that the treaty of Toros de Guisando becomes null and void, and my sister Isabella is no longer heiress to the throne of Castile and Leon.’

There was a murmur of approval in the gathering, led by Villena, Albuquerque and the Mendozas; it quickly became a roar.

Henry lifted his hand.

‘There is one whose place she usurps. This is my daughter, the Princess Joanna, now a child in her ninth year. Her mother has come here today to swear with me that the Princess is my daughter; and you will, when you have heard and accepted her testimony, agree with me that there can be only one heiress, the Princess Joanna.’

‘The Princess Joanna!’ chanted the audience. ‘Castile for Joanna!’

‘I am now going to ask the Queen to swear on oath that the Princess Joanna is the legitimate heiress of Spain.’

Joanna rose to her feet. She was still a beautiful woman but the lines of depravity were firmly etched on her face now, and there was a certain insolence in her demeanour which was far from queenly. Joanna was aware that all present knew of the retinue of lovers who attended her in Madrid, and of the children who had been the result; and quite clearly she was indifferent to this.

Now she cried: ‘I swear the Princess Joanna is the daughter of the King and no other.’

‘Castile for Joanna!’ cried the assembly.

Then the King rose and took his wife’s hand. ‘I swear with the Queen that the Princess Joanna is my daughter and no other.’

‘Castile for Joanna!’

The King then turned to the French ambassadors, among whom was the Count of Boulogne. The Count came forward.

‘It is our pleasure,’ said Henry, ‘formally to announce the betrothal of my daughter Joanna to the Duke of Guienne, brother of the King of France, and with the approval of the nobles of Castile the ceremony of betrothal will now take place, with the Count of Boulogne standing proxy for his master.’

‘Long live the Duke of Guienne!’ was the cry. ‘Castile for Joanna!’


* * *

Meanwhile, in the house of Juan de Vivero, Isabella was preparing for her confinement.

She was in a state of bliss. She shut herself in with her happiness. She was reading history; it was necessary to profit from the experience of others. She was studying state matters; and as usual she spent a great deal of time with her confessor and at prayers. Her life was divided between the study, which she believed to be necessary for a ruler who had a mighty task before her, and the domestic affairs of a wife and mother. Isabella had determined that in neither role should she fail.

It was delightful to sit with Ferdinand and talk of the reforms she intended to bring to Castile. When she heard stories of the terrible state of affairs, which existed in the country districts as well as in the towns, she would work out plans for righting this state of affairs. She planned to bring a new order to Castile; and she would with the aid of Ferdinand.

These intimate little conferences were all the more delightful because they were shared only by the two of them. Previously all political discussions had been presided over by the Archbishop of Toledo. Isabella had turned to him, trusting his loyalty and wisdom. But with the coming of Ferdinand it was with Ferdinand she wished to discuss affairs.

What could be more pleasant than a conference which was also a tête-à-tête for lovers!

The Archbishop found it far from pleasant.

On one occasion, when Ferdinand was on his way to Isabella’s apartments, he met the Archbishop also bound for the same destination.

‘I am going to the Princess,’ said Ferdinand, implying that the Archbishop must wait awhile.

Alfonso Carillo, always a hot-tempered man, reminded Ferdinand that he was Isabella’s chief adviser. ‘She herself, I doubt not, will tell you that, but for me, she would never have been proclaimed heiress to the throne.’

Ferdinand was young and also hot-tempered. He said: ‘My wife and I do not intend to be disturbed. We will send for you when we need you.’

The eyes of the Archbishop widened with horror.

‘I think, Highness,’ he said, ‘that you forget to whom you speak.’

‘I forget?’