History's Great Queens 2-Book Bundle: The Last Queen and The Confessions of Catherine de Medici (10 page)

Doña Ana exploded. “This is a scandal! When has an infanta of Spain ever selected her own wardrobe, much less pranced about in such brazen apparel?”

She had gone too far. I whirled about. “Enough. I’ll not be spoken to as if I were a child!”

Doña Ana’s mouth hung open. Before she could find her voice, Madame de Halewin moved to me. “I believe this sleeve should be raised at the shoulder,” she murmured.

About us, the Flemish girls looked from Doña Ana to Madame de Halewin and back to me. Beatriz went to Doña Ana. “Señora, let us take a walk. You look pale.”

“Yes,” I added pointedly, “go with Beatriz.” I waved a preemptory hand.

Doña Ana trudged out. As the door closed, I distinctly heard her say: “She’ll not get away with this. I’ll write to Spain this very afternoon, so help me God.”

Madame de Halewin waved aside the whispering girls. “You too. Get to work. Her Highness’s bedchamber needs cleansing.”

I studied my reflection. Doña Ana would not spoil this for me. The gown might be indecent according to Spanish standards, but it was more luxurious than anything I’d owned. And I had a lovely bosom; everyone said so. Why shouldn’t I display it to my advantage? Veils and high-collared robes would not go over well with the Habsburg court.

Madame de Halewin met my gaze. With uncanny prescience, she said, “I cannot help but notice your duenna’s outbursts have become more frequent.” She let out a sigh. “Your Highness has shown remarkable restraint, considering she acts as though you’re incapable of making your own decisions. What will she do when you embark on your tour with His Highness, I wonder? The Habsburg territories are large. Germany, Austria, Holland: the trip could take months.”

The intimation in her words cut deep, as did the thought of Doña Ana blighting what in effect would be my official presentation by Philip to our future subjects. As Madame knelt to check my hem, I suddenly realized I couldn’t stomach another confrontation with my duenna.

“Madame, I was thinking I might relieve my matrons for a time of their responsibilities, at least until I return from my trip. What would you advise?”

She inclined her head. “I think it’s a wise idea. Poor dears, the change in climate alone for women of their age can be quite upsetting.” She pinned up my skirt to adjust it. “Perhaps your matrons might be transferred to their own quarters while Your Highness is away?”

In the mirror, I thought I saw her smile. “Your Highness needn’t concern yourself with the details. Once you depart, there’ll be sufficient room in the palace to accommodate them.”

“In truth?” I said. “It seems everywhere I look there are hordes of people. I’ve even heard that our less fortunate courtiers sleep with the hounds in the rushes.”

“Nevertheless, there are quarters we can designate.”

I considered. If proper accommodations could indeed be found, it seemed the perfect solution and would allow my duenna and me a much-needed respite from each other. I was fond of Doña Ana, in the end. How could I not be? She’d helped raise us. I just didn’t want her interfering in what I regarded as my purview, nor did I want her ranting at me night and day while I sought to make a suitable impression.

“And you can assure me they’ll be well cared for?” I asked.

“Absolutely. We’ll pay for their maintenance out of your own privy purse.”

I reflected a few more moments, while she busied herself with my dress. At length, I said, “See to it. No doubt, we’ll all appreciate the change.” I laughed, albeit a little nervously. “All of us, that is, save Doña Ana.”

EIGHT

A
furious quarrel ensued when Doña Ana was informed neither she nor any of my Spanish matrons would accompany me. She threatened to take the next ship back to Spain and I retaliated by offering her paid passage. I refused to see her after that, celebrating the New Year festivities of 1497 with Philip in grand style before we departed on the first league of our trip.

While on the road, we received word that Margaret and my brother, Juan, had wed in Spain, to great fanfare. Sad news accompanied this missive; in the midst of the nuptial festivities, my grandmother passed away quietly in Arévalo.

I felt a profound, unexpected grief. I hadn’t forgotten my visit with her, and one night in bed I almost confessed to Philip, longing to unburden myself of the secret I carried. But I did not. Something warned me he wouldn’t understand. He had lived most of his life without family. He would surely judge my mother as a hard and cold ruler, much like his father was. And so I hid behind a brittle smile, while in my mind remembering my grandmother’s haunting eyes and her whisper,
Why are you afraid…?

My preoccupation faded as our trip progressed and Philip strived to show me off to his people. In every township we entered, jubilant crowds rushed out to greet us. Elaborate welcomes were staged, and lord mayors presented us with gilded keys and proclamations. The land also began to reveal itself to me, its fields dotted with tulips and painted cities bright as newly minted coins. Shining rivers crisscrossed vales where the game was so abundant Philip told me one hardly needed to draw one’s bow, and swaths of forest entranced the eye.

Still, I didn’t see anything to compare with the sheer breadth of Spain’s magnificence, no austere plateaus that plunged into fertile valleys, no endlessly changing skies. In Flanders everything seemed new, a fitting accompaniment to my new life; and soon I was tossing coins from my purse to the crowds with a largesse that would have been unknown in my country, reveling in the anonymous faces gazing up at me as if I were a goddess.

IN LATE APRIL WE WENT TO THE HABSBURG KINGDOM OF AUSTRIA
for a weeklong visit with Philip’s father, the emperor Maximilian. I was curious to meet my exalted father-in-law, ruler of half the civilized world and inheritor of the coveted crown of Holy Emperor. I found him a staid man of robust health and little humor. His palace was magnificent, filled with aspiring scholars and artists seeking his favor; and evidence of his wealth was everywhere. As a welcoming gift, he gave me a necklace of emeralds so heavy it hurt to wear it, and we dined with him and his second wife, the Italian-born empress, on gold plate so encrusted with gems I could scarcely pick it up. I couldn’t help but think of how my mother had pawned her jewels and melted her plate to finance her wars, and how to this day she had her gowns mended and remended while she painstakingly saved up the coin she needed to reclaim her jewelry from the moneylenders.

I attended my first (and my last) bear bait at the Austrian court, held in honor of our visit. I’d heard of this peculiar custom, but nothing could have prepared me for the pitiful roars of that proud black beast chained to a stake in a pit, surrounded by yelling courtiers as mastiffs took turns tearing it apart. The bear managed to gore and disembowel three of the savage dogs before it in turn was taken down; by then, I was faint from the stench of blood and entrails, and sickened by the court’s apparent delight in the suffering of these creatures. I rose to excuse myself, followed by my equally green-faced ladies; Philip barely paid me mind, flushed from his shouting and keen on winning the bets he’d laid with his men. As I staggered from the tiers with my hand pressed to my mouth, desperate for fresh air, I heard Maximilian drawl, “I’d never heard of a Spaniard lacking for spleen when it came to slaughter.”

I almost retorted that spleen or not, he’d never see such barbarity exercised in Spain. Then I recalled Cisneros’s burnings of heretics and clamped my jaw. Nevertheless, I vowed to never again witness such gleeful torture.

I also saw firsthand the tension between Philip and his father, confirming everything my husband had told me about their estrangement. Though they resembled each other physically, they spoke on the most formal of terms, without a single gesture of affection between them. When the time came for us to leave, even their farewell was carefully rehearsed and utterly lacking in any warmth.

After that, Philip and I were obliged to separate. It would be our first time apart since our wedding. He would continue on to the official gathering of his Estates-General, a governing body composed of officials from the Imperial states, while I returned to Brussels. I wanted to stay with him, but he assured me I’d be bored to tears and he wouldn’t have a moment to spare. “Not to mention that your presence would be too tempting a distraction,” he added, with a wink.

So my entourage and I returned to our palace. The afternoon following my arrival I took to the gallery, eager to tell all those ladies who hadn’t accompanied me about my adventures, for I must admit, I’d enjoyed being the center of attention and was loath to relinquish the role.

I was so engrossed in my own splendor I almost failed to mark the timid girl who crept tentatively toward me, a chambermaid or servant girl, with downcast eyes. “Your Highness, I beg your leave,” I heard her utter. I turned with a ready smile. During the tour, many such girls had made their way to me, hoping for a piece of ribbon from my hair or section of lace from my cuff, as though any article that had touched my person were a talisman.

Madame de Halewin stepped between us. “Her Highness doesn’t wish to be disturbed. Off with you, girl!”

I held up a hand, moving around Madame to the now-cowering figure. She was just a child, one of the thousands who prepared our food, mended our linens, dusted our belongings, and swept out our hearths. I had been taught by my mother’s example to always show kindness to those who served me, as justness, not pride, was the hallmark of royalty.

“Come, child,” I said, “what is it?”

The girl reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a scrap of paper. “Your matrons send you this,” she murmured, and she stepped back hurriedly.

I frowned, glanced at the paper. The writing was cramped, in faded ink, but the words were unmistakable:
Somos prisoneras.
We are prisoners.

“What is this?” I asked the girl. “Where did it come from? Speak up.”

Beatriz and Soraya came up beside me. An uncomfortable tightness formed in my chest when the girl whispered, “It is from a lady named Doña Francisca. She asked me to bring this to Your Highness. She begged me. She also bid me tell you, Doña Ana is ill.”

It was all I needed to hear. I motioned. “Beatriz, Soraya, come with me. We’ll visit my matrons in their quarters.” I stopped Madame de Halewin with a single glance. “Alone.”

STANDING AT THE BOTTOM
of a staircase in a dilapidated quarter of the palace, I gazed about in horror.

My matrons’ quarters, if such they could be called, consisted of a wine cellar, the moldering walls windowless, the broken stone floor strewn with straw. I wouldn’t have stabled a mule here, I thought, and I felt ill when I saw the pallets and threadbare blankets, the mess of cinders in the center, where my women had resorted to burning kindling for heat.

I gestured to Beatriz, who rewarded the girl with a purse of coins and sent her scampering off, her good deed done and financial situation considerably improved.

My four matrons stood clustered together, clad in layers of soiled clothing, all bearing the sallow look of invalids. The odium in their sunken eyes made me want to flee back up the stairs. I had signed vouchers for their upkeep before I left with Philip on tour. I believed I had seen to their welfare. How had this happened? How long had they been here, like this?

I moved to the pallet where Doña Ana lay and dropped to my knees. “Doña Ana,” I whispered. “Doña Ana, it is I, your Juana. I am here.”

My duenna’s eyes opened, glazed with fever.
“Mi niña,”
she croaked. “Oh, my child, you must summon a priest. I am dying.”

“No, no. You are not dying.” I removed my shawl, tucked it about her. “It’s only your tertian fever, as you used to get in Castile. The moment we went to Granada, you always improved.”

“I’ll have no such relief here,” she murmured.

I lifted an enraged gaze to Doña Francisca de Ayala, who stood like an accusing specter before me. “How did this occur? Why was no word sent to me of these deplorable conditions?”

She met my gaze. “We tried, Your Highness. We were denied access to you.”

“Denied?” My voiced edged up a notch. “By whom? Tell me at once!”

“My lord Besançon. We were told by his secretary that you authorized our transfer, and should we find reason for complaint we could take our leave for Spain.” She gave me a mirthless smile. “I suppose he expected us to walk there.”

“That is impossible.” My gaze flew to Beatriz. “I paid out of my own purse for your expenses. I was told you would be well cared for.”

Doña Francisca reached into her frayed cloak pocket and withdrew a bunch of crinkled papers, tied with a string. She dropped it in front of me. “Here are our letters to you. Every day, for weeks, we wrote. Each one was returned. Then one night, they came and locked us in. It was only by chance we found a way out.”

I reached out with a trembling hand to the papers. “Chance…?” I echoed.

“Yes. Once we realized no help would come, we grew desperate and implored that serving girl who brought us our daily meal. She took pity on us, agreed to carry our message to you in person after you arrived—if my lord Besançon didn’t come with you, of course. We are fortunate he did not. Otherwise you might have found five corpses.”

Besançon was with Philip. He’d traveled with us throughout Flanders before retiring to one of his houses. I had mostly ignored his corpulent waving presence. Yet in all that time he had known my matrons were left here to subsist on one solitary meal, which was less than allotted to any stable boy or scullery maid.

Blind rage surfaced in me. I had let this happen, yes, but I had done so in ignorance. I could never have conceived of such treachery. In that moment, my dislike for my husband’s premier adviser, for the man Philip regarded as his only true father, turned to hatred.

I would see him brought low, I vowed. I stood, my fingers closing about the packet of letters. “Soraya,” I said, “please, attend to Doña Ana and help Doña Francisca and our other matrons pack up their belongings. I’ll send word as to where they should go. Beatriz, come with me. I’ve urgent business to attend to.”

I SUMMONED MADAME DE HALEWIN
. “You dare tell me you knew nothing of this? How is that possible? Did you not tell me to my face that my matrons would lack for nothing?”

To her credit, Madame looked upset. Pallid and trembling, she said, “Your Highness, I swear it to you, I conveyed your order. I told them you would pay from your own purse. I…”

“Yes? You what, madame? Speak up!”

“I knew nothing!” She lowered her eyes. I thought she might drop in a swoon at my feet. She feared the worst, as well she should. I could see her dismissed this very hour to the same quarters my matrons were about to vacate, and had half a mind to do just that. “Your Highness, my lord Besançon said he would attend to your matrons’ arrangements. He gave his express command that he was to be apprised of everything that transpired in your household.”

“Yes, I’ve been told as much,” I replied. “I also understand my lord the archbishop has taken to reviewing my correspondence, before I have a chance to. I plan to address this matter as soon as my husband returns. In the meantime, I shall personally review my finances, and see how this disaster occurred.” I gave her a hard stare. “Now, madame.”

She rushed out, returning minutes later with a leather register I’d never seen, and an anxious avian-looking gentleman I’d likewise never met, though evidently he was responsible for the register’s contents. Bowing low, he introduced himself as Monsieur my treasurer and began to pedantically explain the process whereby money entered and left my privy purse, while Madame stood by, wringing a section of her gown. Listening to the poor man’s panting explanation, staring at the cramped formulas, I hoped I did not betray the fact that they could be robbing me blind and I’d never know it. As learned as I was, the intricacies of managing my own finances had not formed part of my educational curriculum.