Виктория Холт - Daughters of Spain

‘If this marriage were made we should have no power to dictate Emanuel’s policy towards the Jews,’ Ximenes pointed out.

‘No,’ cried Torquemada triumphantly, ‘but we could make it a condition of the marriage. Emanuel is eager for this match. He is more than eager. It is not merely to him a grand marriage … union with a wealthy neighbour. This young King is a weak and emotional fellow. Consider his tolerance towards the Jews. He has strange ideas. He wishes to see all races living in harmony side by side in his country following their own faiths. You see he is a fool; he is unaware of his duty to the Christian Faith. He wishes to rule with what he foolishly calls tolerance. But he is a love-sick young man.’

‘He saw the Princess when she went into Portugal to marry Alonso,’ murmured Ximenes.

‘Yes, he saw her, and from the moment she became a widow he has had one plan: to make her his wife. Well, why not? Isabella must become the Queen of Portugal, but on one condition: the expulsion of the Jews from that country as they have been expelled from our own.’

Ximenes lay back on his pillows exhausted and Torquemada rose.

‘I am tiring you,’ he said. ‘But I rely on your support, should I need it. Not that I shall.’ All the fire had come back to this old man who was midway in his seventies. ‘I shall put this to the Queen and I know I shall make her see her duty.’

When Torquemada had taken his leave of Ximenes the Archbishop lay back considering the visit.

Torquemada was a stronger man than he was. Neither of them thought human suffering important. They had sought to inflict it too often on themselves to be sorry for others who bore it.

But at this time Ximenes was more concerned with his own problem than that of Isabella and Emanuel. He had decided what he must do with Bernardín. He would send his brother back to his monastery; he would give him a small pension; but it should be on condition that he never left his monastery and never sought to see his brother again.

I am a weak man where my own are concerned, thought Ximenes. And he wondered at himself who could contemplate undisturbed the hardships which would certainly befall the Jews of Portugal if Emanuel accepted this new condition, yet must needs worry about a man who, but for chance, might have committed fratricide – and all because that man happened to be his own brother.

* * *

The Princess Isabella looked from her mother to the stern face of Torquemada.

Her throat was dry; she felt that if she had tried to protest the words would not come. Her mother had an expression of tenderness yet determination. The Princess knew that the Queen had made up her mind – or perhaps that this stern-faced man who had once been her confessor had made it up for her as he had so many times before. She felt powerless between them. They asked for her consent, but they did not need it. It would be as they wished, not as she did.

She tried once more. ‘I could not go into Portugal.’

Torquemada had risen, and she thought suddenly of those men and women who were taken in the dead of night to his secret prisons and there interrogated, until from weariness – and from far worse, she knew – agreed with what he wished them to say.

‘It is the duty of a daughter of Spain to do what is good for Spain,’ said Torquemada. ‘It is sinful to say “I do not wish that.” “I do not care to do that.” It matters not. This is your duty. You must do your duty or imperil your soul.’

‘It is you who say it is my duty,’ she answered. ‘How can I be sure that it is?’

‘My daughter,’ said the Queen, ‘that which will bring benefit to Spain is your duty and the duty of us all.’

‘Mother,’ cried the Princess, ‘you do not know what you are asking of me.’

‘I know full well. It is your cross, my dearest. You must carry it.’

‘You carry a two-edged sword for Spain,’ said Torquemada. ‘You can make this marriage which will secure our frontiers, and you can help to establish firmly the Christian Faith on Portuguese soil.’

‘I am sure Emanuel will never agree to the expulsion of the Jews,’ cried Isabella. ‘I know him. I have talked with him. He has what are called liberal ideas. He wants freedom of thought in Portugal. He said so. He will never agree.’

‘Freedom for sin,’ retorted Torquemada. ‘He wishes for this marriage. It shall be our condition.’

‘I cannot do it,’ said Isabella wearily.

‘Think what it means,’ whispered her mother. ‘You will have the great glory of stamping out heresy in your new country.’

‘Dearest Mother, I do not care …’

‘Hush, hush!’ It was the thunderous voice of Torquemada. ‘For that you could be brought before the tribunal.’

‘It is my daughter to whom you speak,’ the Queen put in with some coldness.

‘Highness, it is not the first time I have had to remind you of your duty.’

The Queen was meekly silent. It was true. This man had a more rigorous sense of duty than she had. She could not help it if her love for her family often came between her and her duty.

She must range herself on his side. Ferdinand would insist on this marriage taking place. They had indulged their daughter too long. And, if they could insist on this condition, that would be a blow struck for Holy Church, so she must forget her tenderness for her daughter and put herself on the side of righteousness.

Her voice was stern as she addressed her daughter: ‘You should cease to behave like a child. You are a woman and a daughter of the Royal House. You will prepare yourself to accept this marriage, for I shall send a dispatch to Emanuel this day.’

Torquemada’s features were drawn into lines of approval. He did not smile. He never smiled. But this expression was as near to a smile as he could come.

When her mother spoke like that, Isabella knew that it was useless to protest; she lowered her head and said quietly: ‘Please, may I have your leave to retire?’

‘It is granted,’ said the Queen.

* * *

Isabella ran to her apartment. She did not notice little Catalina whom she passed.

‘Isabella, Isabella,’ called Catalina, ‘what is wrong?’

Isabella took no notice but ran on; she had one concern – to reach her bedroom before she began to weep, for it seemed to her in that moment the only relief she could look for was in tears.

She threw herself on to her bed and the storm burst.

Catalina had come to stand by the side of her bed. The child watched in astonishment, but she knew why Isabella cried. She shared in every sob; she knew exactly how her sister felt. This was like a rehearsal of what would one day happen to her.

At length she whispered very softly: ‘Isabella!’

Her sister opened her eyes and saw her standing there.

‘It is Catalina.’

Catalina climbed on to the bed and lay down beside her sister.

‘It has happened then?’ asked the little girl. ‘You are to go?’

‘It is Torquemada. That man … with his schemes and his plots.’

‘He has made this decision then?’

‘Yes. I am to marry Emanuel. There is to be a condition.’

‘Emanuel is a kind man, Isabella. He loves you already. You will not be unhappy. Whereas England is a strange place.’

Isabella was silent suddenly; then she put her arms about Catalina and held her close to her.

‘Oh Catalina, it is something we all have to endure. But it will be years before you go to England.’

‘Years do pass.’

‘And plans change.’

Catalina shuddered, and Isabella went on: ‘It is all changed now, Catalina. I wish I had gone before. Then Emanuel would have loved me. He did, you know, when I was Alonso’s wife.’

‘He will love you now.’

‘No, there will be a shadow over our marriage. You did not know what happened here when the Jews were driven out. You were too young. But I heard the servants talking of it. They took little children away from their parents. They made them leave their homes. Some died … some were murdered. There was great suffering throughout the land. Emanuel will hate to do in his country what was done in ours … and if he does not do it there will be no marriage.’

‘Who said this?’

‘Torquemada. He is a man who always has his way. You see, Catalina, if I go to Portugal it will not be the same any more. There will be a great shadow over my marriage. Perhaps Emanuel will hate me. They cursed us … those Jews, as they lay dying by the roadside. If I go to Portugal they will curse me.’

‘Their curses cannot hurt you, for you will be doing what is good.’

‘Good?’

‘If it is what our mother wants, it will be good.’

‘Catalina, I’m frightened. I think I can hear their curses in my ears already.’

They lay in silence side by side. Isabella was thinking of the roads of Portugal filled with bands of exiles, broken-hearted men and women looking for a home, prepared to find death on the highway, at the hands of murderers or from exposure.

‘This is my marriage with Emanuel,’ she whispered.

Catalina did not hear her; she was thinking of a ship which would sail away to a land of fogs and strangers; and she was a passenger on that ship.

The Archduchess Margaret clung to the ship’s bulwarks. The wind was rising; the storm clouds loured. Was the middle of winter a good time to make a perilous sea journey? She was sure that it was not. Yet, she thought, what would it have availed me had I asked to wait for the spring?