The Last Queen (41 page)

their Majesties took from him during the Reconquest. Now Don Manuel claims there

can be no disbursement of castles or lands until His Highness is invested as king by

the Cortes and claims the royal treasury.” She smiled. “
Princesa,
I thought Villena would draw his sword then and there, and cut Don Manuel in two. And Benavente is

an ogre. He grabbed Don Manuel by the shirt and shook him until the ambassador

screamed. The archduke your husband had to intervene and had Villena a gold goblet

from his own table and Benvenete a platter.”

“So,” I remarked. “My husband is giving away his own plate now.
Bien.
Let them

steal from each other. The more discord there is, the better it will go for us.”

I settled in. I could afford to wait. The primitive conditions, which the Flemish

had already begun to complain about, did not perturb me. Riding all day under the

relentless sun in a fog of dust kicked up by thousands of hooves; pitching camp at

dusk; sleeping in tents; eating dried foods and boiling water to drink were activities I

had grown immune to during my parents‟ years of crusade against the Moors.

Concealing my pregnancy for another month or so would be a challenge, yes, but I

took comfort in the fact that Philip and Don Manuel faced far greater ones.

The Galician peasants, for one, almost proved their undoing. Don Manuel had

contracted them to convey the train of carts laden with weapons, finery, and other

gear. One night, the Galicians unhitched their oxen while we slept and vanished. The

Flemish guard took the Galicians‟ place but not before a pitched volley of

recriminations was launched between them and the nobles‟ retainers, who, with

customary arrogance, refused to help at all with the carts.

Then, as we entered the first of León‟s provinces, food supplies became

unavailable, or available only at an exorbitant cost. I silently exulted as I watched

Philip‟s fury mount. He‟d begun to see the other side of this realm he so coveted, the

insular suspicion of al foreigners and greed for their money. Fit to burst, he railed at the
grandes
, ordering them to deal with their obstinate people, thus alienating himself even further, for who else but a Habsburg would think of ordering Spanish blue

bloods about as if they were lackeys?

In the town of Santabria, Philip called for a halt. We had reached the edge of

Castile after weeks of travel and Philip declared he needed to rest. He commandeered

the nearest
casa
; I was given an upstairs chamber with my women.

That evening as I stood in a brass tub in my shift while Beatriz rinsed the road‟s

grime and dust off me, the door banged open and Philip strode in. I didn‟t bother to

cover myself with my arms; it was too late. He took one look at my thickened figure

and said triumphantly, “I knew it! You are with child, just as Don Manuel thought.

You will dine with me this evening so I can announce the good news.”

“Dine with you?” I stepped out of the tub, took a robe from Soraya. “I think not.

I‟m very tired and in no mood for company.”

“You‟ll do it anyway. I need everyone to see you‟re not being held against your

will.”

The moment the words were out, I saw he regretted them. He hadn‟t intended for

me to know that now that we stood on the threshold of my kingdom, he was unsure

of his reception. It explained why he (or rather Don Manuel) Had elected to have us

stop in this miserable town rather than proceed straight into Castile. Who knew what

reception awaited them?

I regarded him with detachment, noting the pulsing vein at his temple, the

coarseness of his sun-burned skin that betrayed his increased penchant for liquor.

Philip did not fare well under these conditions; for all his outward impressions he was

a pampered man, bred for hall and hunting excursions, not taxing ordeals over

mountains in the blazing heat.

“Oh,” I finally said, with deliberate asperity. “In that case, of course I shall dine

with you. We wouldn‟t; want my father to think I‟m misused.”

Philip scowled. He stabbed a finger at Beatriz. “See to it she‟s there.”

――――――――――――

THE HOUSE WAS A SIMPLE timber-framed affair, the central hall used to stable

beasts as well as people during the harsh winter months. It was hardly the setting for a

court dinner, yet true to form Don Manuel sought to shore up my husband‟s princely

status by ordering the musty tapestries unpacked and hung on the walls, the gold plate

set on the scarred table, and the minions dressed in their finery. They made a marked

contrast to the Spanish nobles, none of whom had found a particular need to refresh

themselves after the hard day‟s ride and sat in their soiled doublets and dusty boots,

markedly apart from the Flemish.

I entered clad in my azure velvet, my hair loose and my mother‟s ruby at my

throat. The nobles rose in unison and bowed. I took the empty seat beside Philip.

Had my department so far sown a seed of doubt? Were the nobles beginning to

question their willingness to throw in their lot with Philip and his slavish advisor? I

found myself searching their faces in turn, pausing on Villena, who arched a

manicured brow and gave me his usual implacable smile. I had seen during our travels

that while he could be as vain as any Flemish when it came to his appearance, he had

the tireless constitution of a true Spanish lord, born to the saddle.

Burly Benavente sat at his side; I did not see the massive constable anywhere. Had

I not trusted myself, I would have thought I‟d imagined glimpsing him in the

courtyard so many weeks ago.

Servitors set platters of fresh cheese, sautéed fowl, and roasted meats before the

assemblies. As we ate, Philip said without looking at me: “You might like to know that

your father has finally dignified himself to send word. He wishes us to make haste to

Toledo so we can be invested by the Cortes. He has your son with him.”

My heart quickened. I kept my stare fixed ahead.

“What?” Philip added. “Have you nothing to say? I would have thought you‟d be

overjoyed to know your darling Papá and Spanish child have asked for you.”

I felt like an animal that senses but cannot see the steel snare hidden under its

feet.

“Don‟t you want to know our reply?” He brought his hand under the table,

gripping my thigh. “I‟ve sent word we‟ll indeed make haste and command him to

meet us in Castile where we will assume our throne and he will formally relinquish any

further rights to our kingdom.”

I tasted blood where my teeth cut the inside of my lip. I should have known. He

had found a way to use my own stance against me. How long had Don Manuel sat up

at night, worrying the problem in his brain with the tenacity of a rat? They would see

my father disposed of and appear to give me my title to appease the Cortes and any

others who might balk at contesting my mother‟s will, but I would never rule.

I suspected Philip wanted me to explode, to take up my goblet and fling it at him

in shrieking rage. It would serve him well if I displayed my deranged family blood. I

would not oblige him. No matter what it cost, I would see this meal through to its

cold completion.

His fingers dug into my flesh. With a smile like frost on my lips. I said in a low

voice, “My father will never agree. He‟ll never let you steal what does not belong to

you.”

“We‟ll see about that.” He released me, took up his goblet, and stood. “My lords,”

he called out, bringing immediate silence to the
sala.
“I propose a toast.” He lifted his goblet. “A toast to my wife the queen, who carries my child.”

The Flemish burst into fervent applause. The nobles sat still. I couldn‟t focus on

their expressions, but I knew some must view this development with pleasure. A

pregnant queen would be so much easier to contend with; if everything went in their

favor, Philip would rout my father and I would oblige them by dying while giving

birth, as so many when did. They they‟d have the Habsburg fool in their hands and all

of Castile at their disposal.

“Come now,” I heard Philip childe, “is this any way to greet such news? Rise my

lords, rise! A child is a blessed event,. Let us drink to its health and to Her Highness

my wife‟s, of course.”

The sound of chairs scraping on the plank floor abraded my ears. The lords stood,

the sputtering flames of the wall sconces capturing the sparkle of their raised goblets.

Philip waved his hand. “Thank you, my lords. Her Highness, as you must

understand, is weary after our travels.” He motioned to the guards stationed nearby.

“Please, escort Her Highness to her rooms. We mustn‟t keep her from her proper

rest.”

I lifted my chin and came to my feet. As I walked between the guards, a prisoner

once more, I could not avoid glancing at Villena.

To my disquiet, the look he returned was almost pitying.

――――――――――――

AS SOON AS I REACHED my chambers, I allowed myself to vent my rage. “He sent

word to my father that we wish to see him in Castile!” I spun to Beatriz. “I must get

word to Papá. It‟s a trap!”

“His Majesty won‟t agree,” she said. “Surely he of all people knows what your

husband is capable of.”

“Yes,” I said quickly, “yes, he saw who Philip was when he were last in Spain.

And I didn‟t see the constable at the table tonight. He‟s left, I‟m sure of it. Maybe he

went to report to my father.” I paused. “But what will he say? The
grandes
will all testify that I am traveling with them. None seems to car that I cannot use the privy

without Philip or Don Manuel‟s leave.”

“His Majesty will still know,” Beatriz persisted. She glanced at Soraya. “In La

Coruña, you declared you would not endorse a single act until the Cortes invested

you. This alone proves your husband forces you to his bidding. His Majesty will smell

the rat.”

I nodded, moved in tense silence to my window. It was too far to jump, even if I

weren‟t with child. The drop from the balcony would break my legs, if it didn‟t kill me

outright. And now the guards were back, outside my door. My fists bunched. “I

should have left. I should have taken horse and fled the moment I had the chance.”

“When?” asked Beatriz. “How? Your Highness, we are prisoners here as surely as

we were in Flanders. There is not a soul who will help us.”

“There must be a way.” I looked to the table where Soraya had set out my brushes

and hand mirror. “Do we still those writing materials from England?”

Soraya went at once to one of the valises, retrieved the sheaf of parchment, ink,

and quills we had hidden there under my linens. “What are you thinking?” said

Beatriz.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “If you‟re right and Papá has heard

something of my plight, he still might not known I am determined to fight my

husband for the throne. I must warn him that under no circumstances can he consent

to leaving Castile.” I paused. “The question is, how do I get a letter out? We can‟t

bribe someone. It‟s too dangerous.”

Silence descended. Then Soraya said softly. “I‟ll do it.”

I looked at her in surprise. She regarded me with resolute dark eyes, her narrow

shoulders poised with a confidences I‟d not seen her display before.

Beatriz let out a nervous chuckle. “You? You‟re a Moor, practical y a slave. You

can‟t possibly go off alone with Her Highness‟s letter, even if they were stupid enough

to allow it.”

“I‟m not a slave though,” said Soraya. “I‟m a
converso.
We are in Spain. There are hundreds like me among the retainers and the guards and the serving women. Who‟ll

notice one more or less? I‟ll hide the letter on my person, steal a mule, and slip away

when no one‟s looking.” She looked at me; it was one of the longest speeches I‟d ever

heard her make, and her impeccable Spanish and astute assessments were almost

hypnotic.

“I‟ve been listening to the
grandes
as I come and go from the kitchens,” she added.

“They don‟t even see me. But, I see them. I listen. Many say they do not know what

to do now. I overheard that fat count say His Majesty waits in Segovia, in the Alcázar

with the treasury. Segovia isn‟t far, a week‟s ride at most. I can make it there.”

“Remember Lopez,” I told her quietly. “They tortured him, and he was a member

of my mother‟s household. If they catch you, I dare not imagine what they will do.”

“I survived the fall of Granada,” she replied, as if that said it all.

Beatriz nodded. “Much as I hate to admit, it‟s not a bad plan.” She directed her

next words at Soraya. “You mustn‟t falter. You must leave first thing tomorrow,

before everyone is awake. After you deliver the letter, don‟t rush back to tell us the

good news. If you do, God only knows where we‟ll all end up. Do you understand?

Stay away until you know it is safe.”

She nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

I reached out and embraced her. She had been my constant companion since

childhood, and we both knew we might never see each other again.

――――――――――――

BEFORE DAWN, SHE LEFT WITH MY LETTER HIDDEN UNDER HER SKIRTS.

The hours passed like eternity. When night finally fell, Beatriz and I hugged each

other close. “She did it,” I breathed. “She is on her way. May God watch over her.”