Spain for the Sovereigns (18 page)

Isabella waited. The conditions were hard, but they were necessarily so, she told herself, to secure lasting peace. She was sorry for Joanna, who had been a helpless puppet in the hands of ambitious men, but the comfort and happiness of one young woman could not be considered when the prosperity of Castile was at stake.

Isabella was large with her child when news came that Alfonso had accepted her terms.

Her spirits were high. The War of the Succession, which had lasted four years, was over.

And very soon another child would be born to her and Ferdinand.

The city of Toledo was set high on a plateau of stone which appeared to have been carved out of the surrounding mountains in the gorge of the Tagus. Only on the north side was it accessible by a narrow isthmus which connected it with the plain of Castile. In no other city in Isabella’s Castile was there more evidence of Moorish occupation.

Isabella could never visit her city of Toledo without reiterating the vow that one day she would wrest from the Moors those provinces of Spain which were still under their domination, and that the flag of Christian Spain should float over every city.

But, to remind her of the state of her country, not far from this very palace of Toledo in which she now lay was that great rock, from which it was the custom to hurl alleged criminals. Many would meet their fate at the rock of Toledo before Castile would be safe for honest men and women to live in.

A tremendous task lay before her, and as soon as she had left this childbed she must devote herself to stabilising her country. Nothing should be spared, she had decided. She would be harsh if harshness were needed, and all her honest subjects would rejoice. She had sworn to rid Castile of its criminals, to make the roads safe for travellers by imposing such penalties on offenders that even the most hardened robber would think twice before offending.

But now there was the child about to be born.

It would be soon, and she was unafraid. One grew accustomed to childbearing. The pains of birth she could bear stoically. She had a daughter and son, and she no longer had any uneasy feelings regarding a child she would bear. Her mother was living in a dark world of her own at Arevalo, and the dread that the children should be like her had disappeared. Why should they be? Isabella was in full possession of her mental powers. No one in Castile was more balanced, more controlled than the Queen. Why, then, should she fear?

The pains were becoming more frequent. Isabella waited a while before she called to her women.

It was some hours later when, in the fortress town of Toledo, Isabella’s second daughter and third child was born.

She called her Juana.

Joanna knew herself to be deserted. Alfonso had agreed to Isabella’s terms, and she had been offered her choice: a marriage with a boy who was still a baby, or the veil.

Joanna knew that only would that marriage take place if by the time Prince Juan was in his teens there were still people to remember her cause in Castile. She wondered what sort of marriage she could hope for with a partner so many years younger than herself.

The peace of the cloister seemed inviting; but to take the veil, to shut herself off from the world for ever! Could she do that?

Yet what alternative was Isabella offering her? Shrewd Isabella who, so gently and with seeming kindness, could drive a poor bewildered girl into a prison from which there was no escape!

She must resign herself. She would take the veil. It was the only way to end conflict. How unhappy were those who, by an accident of birth, could never be allowed to live their lives as they would choose to do.

‘I think,’ she said to her attendants, ‘that I will prepare myself to go to the convent of Santa Clara at Coimbra.’

The visiting embassy called upon her when her decision was made known.

The leaders of this embassy were Dr Diaz de Madrigal, a member of Isabella’s Council, and Fray Fernando de Talavera, her confessor.

Talavera gave Joanna his blessing.

‘You have chosen well, my daughter,’ he said. ‘In the convent of Santa Clara you will find a peace which you have never known outside the convent walls.’ Joanna smiled wanly.

She knew then how fervent had been Isabella’s wish that she would take this course,

Alfonso came to her to take his last farewell.

‘My dearest,’ he said, taking both her hands and kissing them. ‘So this is the end of all our hopes.’

‘It is perhaps better so,’ said Joanna. ‘Many seem to be of that opinion.’

‘It leaves me desolate,’ declared Alfonso. ‘My dearest Joanna, I had made so many dreams.’

‘Too many dreams,’ said Joanna wistfully.

‘What shall I do when you are immersed in your convent? What shall I do when there is an impenetrable barrier between us?’

‘You will govern your country and doubtless make another marriage.’

‘That I shall never do,’ cried Alfonso. His eyes kindled, and Joanna guessed that he was conceiving a new plan to marry her in spite of the Pope, in spite of the agreement he had made with Isabella.

Joanna shook her head. ‘You have agreed to these terms,’ she said. ‘There can be no going back. That would result in a war which might prove disastrous to Portugal.’

‘Must I let you go?’

‘Indeed you must.’

Alfonso’s looks became melancholy. He had abandoned the idea of defiance. He now said: ‘Since you are to incarcerate yourself in a convent, I shall spend the rest of my days in a monastery. As it must be the veil for you, it must be the Franciscan habit for me.’

She smiled at him sadly. ‘You remember, Alfonso,’ she said, ‘that on a previous occasion you came near to entering a monastery. On that occasion, you changed your mind.’

‘This time I shall not change,’ said Alfonso, ‘for this is the only way I can bear the loss of my lady Joanna.’

Never before had Isabella felt so confident, never so sure of her powers.

She had summoned a Cortes to meet at Toledo, and here new laws had been discussed and introduced. Isabella had made it clear that she intended to crush the power of the nobles and to eliminate crime in her dominions as far as possible.

The Santa Hermandad must be extended; only if it were efficient could crime be dealt with, and Isabella was certain that only harsh punishment, meted out to proved offenders, could deter others from following their example. Officers of the Hermandad were sent to every village in Castile, where they took up residence so that order there might be maintained. Two
alcaldes
were set up in every village. This had to be paid for, and a house tax of 18,000
maravedis
was imposed on every hundred householders.

But Isabella was fully aware of the fact that she could not punish with great severity those who carried out their crimes in a small way and allow those who offended on a larger scale to escape.

During the reigns of her father and half-brother many sinecures had been created, and those men who had supported these kings had received large incomes as a reward. Isabella was determined that such drains on the exchequer should cease. Those who supported her must do so for love of their country, not for monetary reward. Thus Isabella deprived Beltran de la Cueva of a yearly income of a million and a half
maravedis
, in spite of the fact that he had turned from Joanna, alleged to be his daughter, to offer his services to Isabella; the Duke of Alva lost 600,000
maravedis
, the Duke of Medina Sidonia 180,000 and Ferdinand’s relative, Admiral Henriquez, 240,000.

This caused discontent among these nobles, but they dared not protest; and thus these large sums, which they had been squandering, helped to support the Santa Hermandad; and the effect of Isabella’s stern rule soon began to be noticed throughout the land.

She was confident that in a few years’ time she would transform the anarchical kingdom, which Castile had been when she had become its Queen, into a well-ordered state; she believed that the empty coffers of the treasury would be filled.

And once she had set her own house in order she would look farther afield.

Her eyes were on the Kingdom of Granada, and Ferdinand was beside her in this. He yearned to go into battle against the Moors, but she, the wiser one, restrained him for a while.

When they went into battle there should be victory for them. But they would not engage in war until there was peace and prosperity at home.

In spite of her preoccupation with state affairs, Isabella tried not to forget that she was a wife and mother. She deplored her own lack of education. Often she thought of those years at Arevalo, where she lived with her mother and her brother Alfonso, and where she was taught that one day she might be Queen, but little Latin, Greek or any other language which would have been useful to her. Her children should not suffer similarly; they should have the best of tutors. Most important of all was their religious instruction. That should certainly not be neglected.

There were occasions when she liked to escape to the nursery to forget the magnitude of the task of governing a kingdom which until recently had been on the verge of decay.

She liked to sit and sew with a few of her women as though she were a simple noblewoman, and talk of matters other than those concerned with the state. There was little time for this, and greatly she treasured those brief hours when she could indulge in it.

It was on one of these occasions, when her women were chattering together, that one of them who had recently come from Aragon talked of a ceremony she had seen there.