The Last Queen (5 page)

treaty stipulated Aragón could maintain its own body of elected representation. Upon

my parents‟ death, my brother, Juan, would succeed as first ruler of both kingdoms;

his dynasty would ensure Spain never separated again. Until then, my father was king-

consort of Castile and king of Aragón in his own right and he never let anyone forget

it. The Castilian nobles‟ dislike of him was only augmented by the fact that my mother

had allowed him this concession.

Over the years, I‟d heard other tales, not meant for my ears. That my father had

an eye for women was evident; my mother had brought his illegitimate daughter

Joanna, to court and made his illegitimate son a archbishop. Yet such peccadilloes

hardly mattered in a marriage that was the envy of all who beheld it. My mother never

raised an objection and their reunions were always joyous occasions. Papá was a merry

companion, who relished a bawdy joke, a good cup of
jérez
, and the company of his children, none who loved him more than I.

I peered through the screen. He‟d removed his cloak and was conversing with my

mother‟s trusted adviser, the emaciated Cisneros. His nobleman stood apart from the

Castilians, testament to their mutual antipathy. Then my mother entered with my

sisters. My father immediately left Cisneros to go to her. Her pale cheeks flushed as he

leaned in. To me, it seemed as if there was no one else in the hall, no other lovers in

the world. They walked hand in hand to the dais. A smile played on my father‟s face

as the Castilians came to bow before them.

I melted against the screen. If only I could wed a man like my―

My mother‟s voice echoed into the
sala.
“And where, pray tell, is Juana?”

Quickly smoothing my rumpled skirts, I descended onto the
sala.

My father grinned as I approached. He‟d shaved his beard and his face was

bronzed from his travels, giving him the air of an adventurer. I didn‟t dare look at my

mother. Coming to the foot of the dais, I curtsied. “
Su Majestad,
I am overjoyed to see you.”

“Your Majesty!” He exclaimed, “What is this,
madrecita?
I don‟t care for ceremony from you.”

“Fernando,” chided my mother. “Stop calling her that. She is not your little

mother.” As she spoke, she motioned the nobles aside, leaving me on my knees. Then

she said, “You may rise. I‟ll not spoil your father‟s return by asking where you‟ve

been.”

Papá chuckled. “She was probably bribing the stable boy for a stallion, so she can

ride back to Granada and hide in the hills like a bandit. Anything not to wed the

Habsburg, eh?”

I couldn‟t help but smile.

“She is impossible,” declared my mother. “She is headstrong and too

temperamental by far, and you, my lord husband, only encourage it, when you should

set an example.”

Papá laughed. “She‟s as you were at her age, my love. Can you fault her? A

Spaniard to her core, she no more wants traffic with foreigner than you would.”

I wanted to laugh aloud. Papá would help me. He‟d put an end to this odious

betrothal.

He held out his hand. “Come, let us walk alone.” He winked at my mother; her

frown eased. She beckoned my sisters. “We‟ll wait for you in the solar,” she said, and

with my father at my side, I went out onto the bailey.

_________________

THE WHITE HOT SUN scorched the cobblestones, I winced, searching my pocket

for a ribbon to tie back my hair. My father reached out to coil the heavy mass in a

knot at my nape. “I used to do that for my mother,” he murmured. “She had hair like

yours, thick as a mare‟s mane. It was her only vanity― after her love for me, of

course.”

I threw myself into his arms. “I‟ve miss you so.”

“I missed you too,
madrecita
.” As I felt his callused fingers stroke my neck, I had to bite back the humiliating tears that were never far from my eyes these days.

I drew back. “I didn‟t see Juan in the hall. Did he not come with you?”

“I left him resting in Segovia, though you‟ll be happy to know that while in

Aragón, he made quite an impression. He so astonished my Cortes with his erudition,

they were rendered speechless, a rare event for them. But the trip back to Castile has

tired him.”

I nodded in painful understanding. Juan‟s health was a constant concern. In

Castile, a woman could inherit the throne, as my mother had, but Aragón abided by

the statutes of Salic Law, which prohibited female succession. Should, God forbid,

Juan die before he wed and sired a male heir, Castile and Aragón could be torn apart

once again.

My father shielded his brow with his hand. “By the saints, it‟s hot as Hades. Let‟s

go into the shade before you break out in freckles. We can‟t have a spotted bride on

our hands.”

I turned away. He took my chin, brought my face back to his. “Are those tears I

see?”

I wiped at my eyes. “It must be the dust,” I muttered. “I hate this time of year at

Castile. There are dust and bugs everywhere.”

“Indeed,” he remarked and he steered me to a bench under then portcullis‟s

shadow. Perched beside him, I was acutely aware of his strength, which he exuded like

a bull.

He cleared his throat. “I must speak of an important matter.” He looked at me

intently. He had a puckered scar at his temple, and the cast in his eyes that I had

inherited― only his was pronounced― made it look as if he were squinting. I thought

him the most handsome man I‟d seen, nonetheless, because when he looked at me, it

was as if I was all he wanted to see.

“I know this union with the archduke has brought you no joy,” he said. “ Your

mother tells me you were most upset, and spend all your free time wandering about

like a lost soul.”

I grimaced. “What free time? I scarcely have a minute to go to the privy, I‟m so

busy trying to learn my French and perfect my music and dance.”

“So, is that where you were earlier, learning your French? Come now, will you

not open your heart to me? You know I won‟t chastise you.”

His words softened the defenses I‟d hidden behind since learning of my betrothal.

“I don‟t mean to be difficult,” I said with a catch in my voice. “I realize how

important this marriage is.”

“But you‟d rather wed a Spaniard, or so your mother says.”

“Spain is home. I can‟t imagine leaving. And if I marry the archduke I will have to

leave.”

He sighed. “As different as you and your mother are, you share this one thing:

Isabel also loves Spain, with all her heart. Sometimes, I think, more than anything else

on this earth.”

Hearing an old pain in his voice, I said, “Then we are not so alike, for I love you

more than anything else.”

His smile revealed uneven teeth. “You live up to your name. Not only do you

look like my mother, but you are loyal, just like her.”

“Am I really?” I liked being compared to my namesake, the late queen. Though

she died before my birth, her passion for Aragón and my father was renowned. It was

said she‟d connived to have him wed my mother years before my parents met,

foreseeing they would share a greater destiny together than if they ruled apart.

“You are. To my mother, devotion to country was the most important thing in

life. She told me, it‟s the only love that lasts.” He patted my hand. “That is why if you don‟t want to wed the archduke, we‟ll not force you. No matter how important this

marriage may be, I‟ll not abide it if it makes you unhappy.”

I sat in silence, pondering his words. When I failed to feel the overwhelming relief

I‟d expected, I asked, “Mamá spoke of France threatening Aragón and our need to

prove our power. Is that true?”

“Ah,
madrecita,
what does it matter? If you do not wish it, it‟s as good as over.”

“But it does matter. It matters to me. I want to understand.”

He rubbed his chin. “Very well. You know that while your mother and I are titular

monarchs of Spain, my kingdom of Aragón has kept its independence. But in truth we

must remain united for the good of our country. We have your brother to ensure this,

but it wasn‟t too long ago that Aragón and Castile were avowed foes and the
grandes

conspired against the Crown and Cortes.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know. But then Mamá and you wed and made Spain strong.”

“We did, but there are some who would love to see us fail, so they can return us

to the days of lawlessness. We took liberties away from the nobility; we reduced their

holdings, and we made them swear fealty to us before their own interests. And yet we

couldn‟t have succeeded without their support, and not a few of them would conspire

with Lucifer himself behind our back to achieve our downfall. Plus, Aragón once lost

its claim to Naples to Charles of France.”

“But you won it back. Naples is yours now, by treaty.”

“Lamentably, treaties are only as good as those who sign them. While in Aragón, I

received word that my old enemy Charles is dead. He named his cousin Louis

d‟Orléans as his successor. Louis is a true Valois, without scruple or conscience. He

despises my hold on Naples and has proclaimed he‟ll fight me for it. Any war he starts

over Naples will be a war with Spain.”

I flared at once. “If he declares war, then we‟ll defeat him as we did the Moors!”

“Unfortunately, it‟s not that easy. Naples is the gateway to the African trade

routes. It‟s far away and Louis knows we can‟t afford to wage war on two fronts

without emptying our coffers and exposing Aragón to a French attack. Remember,

Aragón shares a border with France and Italy. Louis can march his armies straight

through my kingdom. As soon as he‟s crowned, I fear he‟ll do just that. He‟ll make us

divide our resources and we haven‟t the money or the men.”

I clenched my fists at the image of the French swarming into my father‟s

kingdom, as they had since time immemorial, implacable in their hunger for spoil and

blood.

“It‟s quite simple, really,” he went on. “Isabel and I expended our treasuries on

the Moorish crusade, and both our Cortes refuse to sanction further taxes. They do

have that right: they are the voice of the common people and unlike the other rulers

in Europe, we rule by their consent. Spain has given all she has, and wars cost money,

lots of it. Hence, the Habsburg marriages.”

I frowned. “The Habsburgs will give us money to fight the French?”

“Not money. Security. Through the marriages, we‟ll be allied to them. Trust me

when I say Louis will think twice about declaring against me if he thinks the

Habsburgs will turn on him. The emperor is canny: he‟s a friend of everyone and

confident of no one. For now, he sees the advantage in Spain, but should Louis

convince him to join the French cause instead, together he and Habsburgs could

bring us no end of trouble.”

I considered this. Unlike my sisters, who rarely looked beyond their apartment

doors, I‟d always had an ear for the goings-on at court. I‟d often overheard nobles

discussing the fact that while rich in land, Spain‟s treasury never overflowed, its deficit increased by the demands of the Reconquest.

“What about Admiral Colón‟s colonies?” I asked. “Isn‟t there gold to be had

there.”

“That charlatan?” He blew air out of the side of his mouth. “A New World, he

calls it, when all he‟s found is a parcel of mosquito-ridden isles. He may have earned

himself a title for discovering land beyond the Ocean Sea, but whether there‟s any

gold there remains to be seen.”

I marveled at the disparity in my parents‟ characters. To my mother, Cristobal

Colón‟s New World represented thousands of heathen souls awaiting the word of

God; to my father, it was but an inordinate expense, better directed to the defense of

Spain.

“Don‟t tell your mother I said that,” he added with a wink, as if he‟d read my

thoughts. “She‟d have my head. She‟s convinced one day Colón will discover a city

paved in gold, filled with savages clamoring for Cisneros and his prayers.”

As my laughter pealed out, I felt my cares lift from me for the first time in weeks.

“There,” he said. “That is how I like to see you. You must laugh often, my

daughter. It is good for the soul.” He paused. “Do you now understand why the

marriage is important?”

“I do. By marrying me to Philip, and Juan to his sister, the Habsburgs will lend us

their power, and France will be forced to negotiate with us rather than simply declare

war.”

“Indeed. And who better to teach that Flemish archduke the way of the world

than you?”

I had to contain my desire to please him. I‟d hoped for release, and instead I now

faced a difficult choice. “I‟ll do whatever I can to help Spain,” I ventured.

“Yes, but you don‟t need to sacrifice yourself. We‟ll find you a Spanish husband

instead and send― whom did you suggest? Ah yes; we‟ll send your sister Maria. She‟s

an infanta too, and as you told your mother, it‟s not as if Philip will know the

difference.”

“Maria!” I rolled my eyes. “She doesn‟t know the first thing about these matters.

She‟ll try to soothe Philip with psalms and embroidery, and end up boring him to

death.”

He chuckled. “Am I to understand you could harbor a secret affection for our fair

archduke?”

“Bah. He means nothing to me.” I took my father‟s hand in mine. “But for Spain,