Виктория Холт - Spain for the Sovereigns

She rose from her table, and as she did so her body was racked with a pain so violent that she could not repress a cry.

One of her women who had been in the apartment came hurrying to her side.

‘Highness . . .’ The woman gasped at the pallor of Isabella’s face, and caught her in her arms, for she believed the Queen was on the point of fainting. She called to others, and in a few seconds Isabella was surrounded by her women.

She put out a hand to steady herself against the table. She knew the violent pain was coming again.

‘Help me . . .’ she murmured. ‘Help me to my bed. I fear my time has come . . . and it is so soon . . . too soon.’

* * *

So it was over.

There would be no child. Isabella felt limp and defeated. Should she have considered the child? If she had done so there would not be that army under Ferdinand’s generalship; Castile would lie open to the invader.

And because it had been necessary to rally men to her cause – and only she, the Queen, could do it – she had lost her child, the son she and Ferdinand were to have made the heir to Castile and Aragon.

She felt bitter.

It was time they had more children; but what chance had they of being parents while they lived this troubled life.

She lay thinking of the journeyings over rough roads, the jolting, the uncomfortable nights often spent in humble beds in roadside inns.

And so . . . she had lost her child. But in doing so she had formed an army.

She smiled briefly.

There would be other children. Once this weary matter of La Beltraneja’s right to the throne was settled, she and Ferdinand would be together always; they would have many children.

She dozed a little, and when her women came to see how she fared she was smiling peacefully. She murmured a little in her sleep, and when one of the women stooped to hear what she said she heard not the lament for the lost child but the words: ‘Eight thousand light horse.’

Isabella came riding to the Alcazar of Segovia.

More than a year had passed since she had lost her child and raised men and arms to fight the invading Alfonso. It had been an arduous period.

Yet Isabella had quickly recovered from her miscarriage; indeed, many said that it was her spirit which had proved the best doctor. There had been no time during that dark period to lie abed and woo back her health; Isabella had very soon to be on horseback, riding through her kingdom, calling a Cortes at Medina del Campo and by her eloquence moving all so deeply that she had raised the money she so badly needed.

That had been after the disasters at Toro and Zamora, which had both fallen to Alfonso, and when, had Alfonso been wise, he would have thrown in his full force against the inferior Castilian army of Ferdinand and Isabella.

But Alfonso had been timid; he had hesitated again, even when the Archbishop of Toledo, considering Alfonso’s gains at Toro and Zamora to be decisive, not only openly allied himself with the King of Portugal but took with him five hundred lancers to join his new friend in the fight against his old one.

But now the Castilian army had been vastly improved and was ready to do battle with the enemy; and on her journeys through her kingdom Isabella gave herself up to the pleasure of a short respite where she would enjoy the hospitality of her dearest friend.

When the news was brought to Beatriz de Bobadilla that the Queen was in the Alcazar she hurried to greet Isabella, and the two women embraced without formality.

‘This makes me very happy,’ said Beatriz emotionally. ‘I would I had known I might expect the honour.’

‘There would then have been no surprise.’ Isabella smiled.

‘But think of the anticipation I have missed!’

‘Beatriz, it is wonderful to see you. I would like to be alone with you as we used to be in the past.’

‘I will have food and wine sent to us, and we will take it in my small private chamber. I long to hear what has been happening to you.’

‘Pray lead me to that small private chamber,’ said Isabella.

Beatriz laid her hand on the Queen’s arm as they went together to the small room of which Beatriz had spoken.

‘I pray Your Highness sit down,’ said Beatriz. ‘Soon we shall be served, and then . . . we will talk in comfort.’ Beatriz called: ‘Food and wine, for the Queen and myself . . . with all speed.’

Isabella, smiling, watched her. ‘You have not changed at all,’ she said. ‘They all hold you in great awe, I’ll swear.’

‘Why should they not? They are my servants,’ said Beatriz, falling into the familiarity which had often existed between them.

‘And your husband, Andres too – do you still command him?’

Beatriz laughed. ‘Andres obeys me, he says, because he values peace and it is the only way to get it. And Ferdinand? He is well?’

‘He is very well, Beatriz. What should I do without him?’

Beatriz looked at the Queen, her head on one side, a smile playing about her mouth. So, thought Beatriz, she continues to adore that man. But not completely. Beatriz knew that Ferdinand had been disappointed not to have taken full authority from Isabella. Beatriz applauded the Queen’s resistance.

‘He fights for his kingdom as well as yours,’ said Beatrix, ‘for although you are Queen of Castile, he is your Consort.’

‘He has been magnificent. Beatriz, I do not believe there has ever been a soldier in Spain to compare with Ferdinand.’

Beatriz laughed aloud; then her servants appeared with refreshments and her manner changed. Now the utmost respect must be paid to the Queen, and Beatriz dropped the easy familiar manner.

But when they were alone again Beatriz said: ‘Isabella, you are looking a little tired. I hope you are going to stay here for some time that I may look after you, as I used to in the old days when we were together.’

‘Ah, those old days,’ sighed Isabella. ‘I was not a queen then.’

‘But we had some anxious times, nevertheless.’ Beatriz smiled reminiscently. ‘At least we do not have to worry that you will be snatched from Ferdinand and given to some husband who would be unacceptable to you!’

‘Thank God for that. Oh, Beatriz, I am a little worried about this battle that must soon take place.’

‘But you put your trust in Ferdinand.’

‘I do, indeed I do. But there are mighty forces against us.’

‘Ferdinand will succeed,’ said Beatriz. ‘He is a good soldier.’

Beatriz was thoughtful for a few seconds. A better soldier than a husband, she was thinking; and he will be determined to succeed. He will not allow himself to be driven from Castile.

‘I was very sad,’ went on Beatriz, ‘when I heard that you had lost your child.’

‘It seems long ago.’

‘But a bitter blow.’

‘As the loss of a child must be. But there was no time to brood. It was all-important that we should get an army together; and we did it, Beatriz, even though it may well be due to that that the child was lost.’

‘It might have killed you,’ said Beatriz gruffly.

‘But I am strong, Beatriz; have you not yet learned that? Moreover, I am destined to be Queen of Castile.’

‘You are Queen of Castile.’

‘I have never really reigned yet. Since my accession there has been this trouble. Once it is settled I shall be able to do for Castile what I always longed to do.’

‘Castile will prosper when you are firmly on the throne, Isabella.’

Isabella’s eyes were shining with purpose. She looked full of vitality at such times, thought Beatriz; it was rarely that those outside her intimate circle saw her so unreserved.

‘First,’ she was saying, ‘I shall abolish this disastrous anarchy. I shall bring law and order back to Castile. Then, when I have a law-abiding country, I shall do all in my power to make good Christians of my subjects. You remember Tomas de Torquemada, Beatriz?’

Beatriz grimaced. ‘Who could forget him?’

‘You were harsh with him, Beatriz.’

‘He was too harsh with us all, including himself.’

‘He is a good man, Beatriz.’

‘I doubt it not. But I cannot forgive him for trying to suppress our laughter. He thought laughter was sinful.’

‘It was because he realised how necessary it was for me to avoid frivolous ways. I remember that one day, after confession, he made me promise that if ever it were in my power I would convert my kingdom to the true faith.’

‘Let us hope that in converting them you will not make them as lean and wretched looking as friend Tomas.’

‘Well, Beatriz, there is another task of mine when all is at peace. I will endeavour to free every inch of Spanish soil from Moslem rule; I will raise the flag of Christ over every Alcazar, over every town in Spain.’

‘I am sure you will do it,’ said Beatriz, ‘but only if you have some little regard for your health. Stay with me a while, dear Isabella. Give me the pleasure of looking after you myself. Please. I beg of you.’

‘How I should enjoy that!’ said Isabella. ‘But there is work to do. I have stolen these few short hours from my duty because I was in the neighbourhood of Segovia and could not resist the joy of seeing you. But tomorrow I must be on my way.’

‘I shall do my utmost to persuade you to stay.’

But Isabella was not to be persuaded; the next day she set out for Tordesillas.

* * *

The battlefield was between Toro and Zamora, along the banks of the glittering Douro. The armies were now equally matched; Alfonso was old compared with Ferdinand, but his son, Prince John, had joined him and was in command of the cavalry.