The Last Queen (35 page)

its faded insignia of a castle and crown: the symbols of Castile, which had not left my

mother‟s hand since the day of her coronation. Slowly, I removed it from the box and

slipped it onto my right index finger, with it was said the vein ran straight to the heart.

I lifted my eyes to Don Manuel. He had not moved from his stance a short

distance away from us, as if he sought to afford me a semblance of respectful, privacy.

His face was shuttered, unreadable. I had my mother‟s ring. My father had summoned

me. What would he do now? What would he tell Philip to do?

I returned to Lopez. His tired brown eyes remained fixed on me. There was

something else he needed to say, something he dared not speak aloud.

“I do not wish to tire you,” he added. “I came only to present Your Highness

with the ring and to say that if you have any needs I might serve, I am entirely at your

disposal.”

The slight emphasis he placed on the word
needs
went unnoticed by Don Manuel,

it seemed. The ambassador had looked down and was now regarding his cuticles in

obvious boredom. It relieved me to note that in his arrogant urbanity he clearly didn‟t

think this elderly secretary and his archaic ceremony posed any real threat.

I said carefully, “I would like to dictate some letters to my mother‟s servants,

seeing as they served her for years and share in my grief.”

“It would be my honor,” Lopez replied. He turned to Don Manuel. “Her

Highness has need of my secretarial services, señor. Does that meet with your

approval?”

I saw Don Manuel hesitate, his eyes shifting from Lopez to me. He could hardly

tell my expression under my veil but I hoped what he did see was a pathetic sight: a

woman who had only recently been locked in her rooms without anyone of import to

succor her. Treacherous turncoat that he was, he was also a Spaniard. He had to feign

some modicum of respect for me, at least in the secretary‟s presence. After all, I was,

on paper at least, his queen.”

I took advantage of his momentary indecision to motion to Beatriz, who stood

waiting in a corner. “My lady can serve you refreshments in the antechamber if you

care to wait, señor. I‟m afraid these letters could take some time.”

Don Manuel stared hard at me. Then, with a glare, he gave a curt bow and

retreated into the antechamber. As soon as Beatriz closed the door on him, I said to

Lopez, “The ambassador cannot be trusted. He is entirely my husband‟s creature.”

He looked over his shoulder and moved close to me. “I am aware of it. He‟s been

plotting without cease since your mother‟s death to raise your husband above you.”

I stared at him. “Above me?”

“Yes. His Highness is calling himself the new king of Castile and heir apparent to

Aragón.”

My stomach clenched. “I see. And what does my father have to say about it?”

“His Majesty is very perturbed. He‟s doing his utmost to protect your throne.”

“But my mother made him governor of Castile. Whatever my husband may

choose to call himself, without my and the Cortes‟ approval surely Philip is nothing in

Spain.”

“Alas, not all is as it should be.” He paused, eyeing me. I could see he had not

forgotten my fury at La Mota. “Your Highness, I must ask that you remain calm. My

news … it is disturbing.”

My hands knotted in my lap. “Go on.”

In a low voice, he told me of the days following my departure from Spain, in

which my mother had returned to Madrigal with my son. She feared for my safety,

Lopez said, and her anxiety aggravated her condition. As she made her painstaking

preparation for death, stipulating that her corpse be entombed in the cathedral in

Granada, site of her greatest triumph, she received a letter from Philip and Don

Manuel relating everything that had transpired since my return to Flanders, including

my attack on my husband‟s whore and imprisonment in my rooms.

“They claimed Your Highness was very ill and had gone so far beyond reason it

was doubtful whether you‟d ever be fit enough to rule. They asked Her Majesty to

alter the succession in favor of Charles, in whose stead Her Highness could govern

until your son comes of age. As you can imagine, their letter greatly aggrieved Her

Majesty.”

I had suspected this. From the moment I met him, I had sensed corruption in

Don Manuel. With his expert knowledge in court intrigue, coupled with a lifelong

courtiers‟ ambitions, he had divined the weakness in my husband‟s character and

steeped neatly into a dead man‟s shoes. Still, that he had so callously and maliciously

contrived to disturb my mother‟s final days made my blood run cold with rage.

“Did― did she believe him?” I heard myself ask.

“No. But she wasn‟t the only one to receive their letter. Don Manuel had copies

sent to the Cortes and select high members of the nobility, including the Marquis of

Villena, who hardly needs an excuse to commit treachery. He demanded audience

with Her Majesty to discuss an alternate succession, but Her Majesty refused him. By

then, she was near death.

He paused. When I did not speak, he went on.

“After Her Majesty‟s death, His Majesty had to assume her burden. He

deliberated long before choosing a course. Villena continued to demand an audience,

but His Majesty, like Her Majesty before him, knew well who had advised your

husband to this act. King Fernando bears the ambassador no love. Don Manuel has

never been exemplary; indeed, he was instrumental years ago in thwarting Aragón‟s

request of help from the emperor against the French and has a reputation for venality.

But at length His Majesty came to the conclusion that he must allow the
grandes
to vent their concerns. Never for an instant did he believe they had any grounds, but the

matter begged a solution and he could think of no other.”

I remained absolutely silent for a long moment. Then I said quietly, “Are you

telling me the Cortes and high nobles of Castile believe― I am insane?” As I spoke, I

thought of the admiral. Had he heard these lies? The thought made a hollow of my

chest.

I fear so,” Lopez told me. “You must understand that King Fernando had no

other option. The situation in Spain verges on catastrophic. Don Manuel sent his

sycophants throughout Castile to bribe the nobles, many of whom are defecting to

your husband‟s cause because he promises to restore the lands and privileges they

were deprived of years ago by their Majesties. Some of these
grandes
have gone even father and sent a petition to the Cortes asking that your father be ordered to abandon

all rights in Castile.”

I clenched my hands about my chair arms, as if to anchor myself in place. “It was

my mother‟s will that my father governs in my place until I claim my throne. He is her

husband.”

“It stands to reason that if Your Highness is unfit to rule, then Her Majesty‟s

appointments are also under question. And in truth, His Majesty has no legal rights to

the position he held as Her Majesty‟s consort. With her death, he is but king of

Aragón.”

I struggled to remain seated. My mother‟s words returned to me, haunting in their

assessment of the man who had become my enemy.
His lack of status festers in him like a
wound. What I did with Fernando, what he accepted of me, Philip may not take so easily from you.

“They want to destroy my father,” I said aloud. “Don Manuel and Philip will use

the nobility‟s hatred of Papá against him to win the throne.”

“Yes,” said Lopez, “but there‟s something neither His Highness nor Don Manuel

anticipates. Her Majesty‟s codicil. God rest her soul, she feared something like this

might occur and she prepared a codicil she appended to her will. In it, she states that

until the Cortes invest you as queen the archduke Philip has no claim to any role or

revenue in Spain. Should Your Highness decide for whatever reason that you do not

wish to rule, it is your father, King Fernando, not the archduke your husband, who

will assume the throne as regent until Charles comes of age. His Majesty could use

this codicil, should the need arise.”

My heart thundered in my ears. She had done it. My mother had guarded my path

to the throne. She would not see her own flesh and blood or the inviolate lineage of

her succession cast aside. I had something with which to fight: something to fight for.

“And Papá can present her codicil to the Cortes,” I asked, “Before Philip―?” All

of a sudden my composure deserted me. I couldn‟t find the breath to voice the

dreaded words aloud.

Lopez nodded. “He can. For now, he has merely persuaded the Cortes that you

may suffer a temporary ailment brought on by grief at Her Majesty‟s loss. It in turn

has agreed to uphold his regency until your true state can be ascertained. That is why I

am here. Officially, I bring your summons, but I am also under orders to convey you

to Spain as soon as possible.”

I went still. As if he read the trepidation on my face, he said softly, “The past is

past,
princesa.
Her Majesty believed you capable of being queen. I would never

presume to question her wisdom. But your husband is another matter. In him, I fear

you have made a mortal enemy.”

I said in a whisper, “I know.”

He glanced over his shoulder again. “Her Majesty ensured your husband could

never legally usurp your throne. Only through your voluntary abdication can the

succession devolve to your sons. But we still face tremendous obstacles, foremost of

which is getting you to Spain. I must leave now, before Don Manuel becomes

suspicious. But I‟ll return tomorrow, with your leave, to discuss our plan. For have no

fear, I have a plan.”

It was as if we‟d never been at odds. A devoted servant to his last breath, Lopez

would defend me even if I were truly insane, for thus had Isabel of Castile ordained.

Even from her tomb, my mother continued to wield their power.

I came to my feet. “My lord, you have my leave. Indeed, I am in your debt.”

He bowed. “
Princesa
, the debt is al mine, for you allow me to serve.”

As soon as he left, Beatriz came in. “Don Manuel left. He muttered something

about an old secretary and a madwoman not being able to do many harm. How I

loathe that man!” She went still. “My lady, what is it? You‟re white as a ghost.”

I turned to her. “He will not have Castile,” I said. “Never, while I live.”

I had never meant anything as much as I did those words.

――――――――――――――――――――――――

TWENTY-THREE

opez came the next day as promised. I hadn‟t slept thinking Don Manuel

might detain him but it seemed the ambassador had decided Lopez and I were

L impotent as he hoped.

Beatriz dressed my hair and applied discreet cosmetics to conceal the shadows

under my eyes and add color to my cheeks. Instead of mourning, I donned a sedate

blue gown― a wise choice, I noted, as Lopez‟s face brightened the moment I entered

the room.

“Beatriz, stand outside the door,” I ordered, and I turned to him. “I‟m prepared

to do whatever is necessary. Given the circumstances, I think it best if I confirm my

father‟s regency until I can reach Spain.”

“I couldn‟t suggest a wiser course.” He drew me to the desk, his voice low. “We

must be careful. Don Manuel suspects something. He questioned me for over an hour

about the true significance of your having Her Majesty‟s ring and how long I planned

on staying. I told him the ring was symbolic and that I would see you today to say my

farewell. We must make haste.”

Taking quill and ink and a fresh sheet of parchment, we composed my official

reply to the Cortes‟ summons, reaffirming my commitment to my throne and

bestowing upon my father the power to maintain his role as governor until I could

arrive, by arms if necessary.
Under no circumstance is Philip of Flanders to style himself as
anything other than prince-consort,
he wrote,
nor is any
grande
or other high prelate or of icial in
service to the Crown to grant him any such privileges until Her Majesty’s of icial consent, on pain of
her worst displeasure.

Then I signed the letter:
I, Juana, the Queen.

“Once King Fernando presents this to the Cortes,” Lopez said, “it‟ll drive a stake

in Don Manuel and your husband‟s bribery and claims that you are insane. They‟ll

have no other choice but to bring you to Spain. And once you‟re there, we‟ll do

whatever is required to defend you.”

I looked down at the paper. He was waiting to sand it to dry the excess ink.

“Whatever is required,” I said. “A shiver went through me. “Do you think it‟ll

come to that?”

“I pray not,” he said. “Nevertheless, Your Highness must prepare. It seems to me

His Highness your husband is as determined to take what you are determined not to

give.”

“Yes,” I said. I motioned. The sand was dusted, blown off; the wax cone melted

over a candle flame and dripped onto the folded edge.

Lopez said, “The seal, Your Highness. Only the seal can make it official.”

I started. Then I pressed my signet ring into the wax. It took on the faint imprint;

as it hardened, I realized it was my first official act as my mother‟s successor.

And a declaration of war against my husband.