Daughters of Spain (36 page)

Isabella and Ferdinand were alone at last.

Ferdinand's face was flushed with pleasure. Isabella's eyes were shining.

'This, I trust,' she said, 'will have a sobering effect on our daughter.'

'A son!' cried Ferdinand. 'What joy! The first born and a son.'

'It will be good for her to be a mother,' mused Isabella. 'She will discover new responsibilities. It will steady her.'

Then she thought of her own mother and those uncanny
scenes in the Castle of Arevalo when she had raved about the rights of her children. Isabella remembered that she had been at her most strange when she had feared that her children might not gain what she considered to be their rights.

But she would not think such thoughts. Juana was fertile. She had her son. That was a matter for the utmost rejoicing.

'They are calling him Charles,' murmured Isabella.

Ferdinand frowned. 'A foreign name. There has never been a Charles in Spain.'

'If this child became Emperor of the Austrians he would be their Charles the Fifth,' said Isabella. 'There have been other Charleses in Austria.'

'I like not the name,' insisted Ferdinand.' It would have been a pleasant gesture if they had named their first, Ferdinand.'

'It would indeed. But I expect we shall become accustomed to the name.'

'Charles the Fifth of Austria,' mused Ferdinand, 'and Charles the First of Spain.'

'He cannot be Charles the First of Spain while Miguel lives,' Isabella reminded him.

'Not ... while Miguel lives,' repeated Ferdinand.

He looked at Isabella with that blank expression which, during the early years of their marriage, she had begun to understand. He believed Miguel would not live, and that this which had caused him great anxiety before the letter from Juana had arrived, no longer did so. For if Miguel died now there was still a male heir to please the people of Aragon: there was Juana's son, Charles.

'From all reports,' said Ferdinand, 'our grandson with this odd name appears to be a lusty young person.'

'They tell us so.'

'I have had it from several sources,' answered Ferdinand. 'Sources which are warned not to feed me with lies.'

'So Charles is big for his age and strong and lusty. Charles will live.'

Isabella's lips trembled slightly; she was thinking of that wan child in his nursery in the troubled town of Granada, where the Moorish population had now been called upon to choose between baptism and exile.

Miguel was such a good child. He scarcely ever cried. He coughed a little though, in the same way as his mother had done just before she died.

'Ferdinand,' Isabella had turned to her husband, 'this child which has been born to our Juana will one day inherit all the riches of Spain.'

Ferdinand did not answer. But he agreed with her.

It was the first time that Isabella had given voice to the great anxiety which Miguel had brought to her since his birth.

But all was well now, thought Ferdinand. One heir might be taken from them, but there was another to fill his place.

Isabella once again read Ferdinand's thoughts. She must try to emulate her husband's calm practical common sense. She must not grieve too long for Juan, for Isabella. They had little Miguel. And if little Miguel should follow his mother to the grave, they had lusty little Habsburg Charles to call their heir.

Ferdinand at this time was deeply concerned over Naples. When Charles VIII of France had been succeeded by Louis XII it had become clear that Louis had his eyes on Europe, for he immediately laid claim to Naples and Milan. Ferdinand himself had for long cast covetous eyes on Naples which was
occupied by his cousin, Frederick. Frederick belonged to an illegitimate line of the House of Aragon, and it was for this reason that Ferdinand itched to take the crown for himself.

Frederick, who might have expected help from his cousin against the King of France, had received a blow when his effort to marry his son, the Duke of Calabria, to Ferdinand's daughter Maria, was thwarted.

Frederick's great hope had been to bind himself closer to his cousin Ferdinand by this marriage; and Ferdinand might have considered the alliance, but for the fact that the King of Portugal was a widower.

Of all his potential enemies Ferdinand most feared the King of France who, by the conquest of Milan, was now a power in Italy. The situation was further aggravated by the conduct of the Borgia Pope, who quite clearly was determined to win wealth, honour and power for himself and his family. The Pope was no friend to Ferdinand. Isabella had been profoundly shocked by the conduct of the Holy Father, whose latest scandalous behaviour had concerned transferring his son Cesare, whom he had previously made a Cardinal, from the Church to the army, simply because that ambitious young man, whose reputation was as evil as that of his father, felt that he could gain more power outside the Church. Ferdinand, believing that nothing could be gained by ranging himself on the side of the Borgias, joined Isabella in accusing the Pope of his crimes.

Alexander had been furious, had torn up the letter in which these complaints were made and had retaliated by referring to the Sovereigns of Spain with some indecency.

Therefore an alliance between the Vatican and Spain was out of the question. Maximilian was heavily engaged, and in any case had not the means of helping Ferdinand. Meanwhile the French,
triumphant in Milan, were now preparing to annex Naples.

Frederick of Naples, a gentle peace-loving person, awaited with trepidation the storm which was about to break over his little Kingdom. He feared the French and he knew that he could not expect help from his cousin Ferdinand who wanted Naples for himself. There seemed no way out of his dilemma except by calling in the help of the Turkish Sultan, Bajazet.

When Ferdinand heard this he was gleeful.

'This is monstrous,' he declared to Isabella. 'My foolish cousin -I must say my wicked cousin -has asked for help from the greatest enemy of Christianity. Now we need have no qualms about stepping in and taking Naples from him.'

Isabella, who previously had been less eager for the Neapolitan campaign, was quickly won over by Ferdinand's arguments when she heard that Frederick had called for help from Bajazet.

But Ferdinand was in as great a dilemma as his cousin Frederick. If he allied himself with the powerful Louis, and victory was theirs, it was certain that Louis would eventually oust Ferdinand from Naples. To help Frederick against Louis was not to be thought of, because he would be fighting for Frederick and that would bring him no gain.

Ferdinand was a wily strategist where his own advancement was concerned. His sharp acquisitive eyes took in every salient point.

When Bajazet ignored Frederick's cry for help, Ferdinand set in motion negotiations between France and Spain, and the result was a new treaty of Granada.

This document was a somewhat sanctimonious one. In it was stated that war was evil and it was the duty of all Christians to preserve peace. Only the Kings of France and Aragon could
pretend to the throne of Naples, and as the present King had called in the help of the enemy of all Christians, Bajazet, the Turkish Sultan, there was no alternative left to the Kings of France and Aragon, but that they should take possession of the Kingdom of Naples and divide it between them. The north would be French, the south Spanish.

This was a secret treaty; and so it should remain while the Spaniards and the French prepared to take what the treaty made theirs.

'This should not be difficult,' Ferdinand explained to Isabella. 'Pope Alexander will support us against Frederick. Frederick was a fool to refuse his daughter Carlotta to Cesare Borgia. Alexander will never forgive this slight to a son on whom he dotes; and the hatred of the Borgias is implacable.'

Isabella was delighted by the cunning strategy of her husband.

She said to him on the signing of the treaty: 'I do not know what would have become of us but for you.'

These words gave Ferdinand pleasure. He often thought what an ideal wife Isabella would have been if she had not been also Queen of Castile, so determined to do her duty that she subdued everything else to that; yet it was precisely because she was Queen of Castile that he had wanted her to be his wife.

His busy mind was looking ahead. There would have to be a campaign against Naples. It was important that the friendship with England should not be broken. He would be glad when he could marry Maria into Portugal.

It would be wise to discuss the matter of England with Isabella while she was in this humble mood.

He laid his hand on Isabella's shoulder and looked serenely into her eyes.

'Isabella, my dear,' he said, 'I have been patient with you because I know of the love you bear our youngest. The time is passing. She should now begin to prepare for her journey to England.'

He saw the fear leap into Isabella's eyes.

'I dread to tell her this,' she said.

'Oh come, come, what is this folly? Our Catalina is going to be Queen of England.'

'She is so close to me, Ferdinand, more close than any of the others. There are going to be many sad tears when we are parted. She is so alarmed by the thought of this journey that sometimes I fear she has a premonition of evil.'

'Is this my wise Isabella talking?'

'Yes, Ferdinand, it is. Our eldest daughter believed she was going to die in childbed, and she did. In the same way our youngest has this horror of England.'

'It is time I was firm with you all,' said Ferdinand. 'There is one way to stop our Catalina's fancies. Let her go to England, let her see for herself what a fine thing it is to be the wife of the heir to the English throne. I'll swear that in a few months' time we shall be having glowing letters about England. She will have forgotten Spain and us.'

'I have a feeling that Catalina will never forget us.'

'Break the news to her then.'

'Oh, Ferdinand, so soon?'

'It has been years. I marvel at the patience of the King of England. We dare not lose this match, Isabella. It is important to my schemes.'

Isabella sighed. 'I shall give her a few more days of pleasure,' she said. 'Let her enjoy another week in Spain. There will not be many weeks left to her in which to enjoy her home.'

Isabella knew now that she could no longer put off the date of departure.

There was an urgent call to Granada, where little Miguel was suffering from a fever. The Queen rode into the city with Ferdinand and her two daughters. The news of Miguel's illness had had one good result, for because of it Isabella had put off giving Catalina instructions to prepare to leave Spain.

How different the city looked on this day. There were the towers of the Alhambra, rosy in the sunlight; there were the sparkling streams; but Granada had lost its gaiety. It was a sad city since Ximenes had ridden into it and had decided that only Christians should enjoy it.

Everywhere there was evidence of those days when it had been the Moorish capital, so that it was impossible to ride through those streets without thinking of the work which was steadily going forward under the instructions of the Archbishop of Toledo.

Isabella's heart was heavy. She was wondering now what she would find when she reached the Palace. How bad was the little boy? She read between the lines of the messages she had received and she guessed that he was very bad indeed.