The Last Queen (44 page)

Talavera is with her. We‟d agreed to meet in Segovia when I tried to escape

Benavente. The marquise will have heard from Beatriz everything my husband and

Don Manuel have done.”

“Indeed. The marquise will die defending that treasury, Your Highness. That is

how we shall force Don Manuel and your husband into a corner. Without the

treasury, they cannot proceed.”

“But what about Cisneros? I do not trust him.”

“Cisneros knows what we plan.” He lowered his voice. “He came to me last night,

after Your Highness retired. He showed me letters he‟s received from your father in

Naples.”

I started. “My― my father?”

“Yes. Cisneros is his informant. Everything that transpires here, our archbishop

records in coded dispatches. He‟ll not impede us. He wants your husband to fail. He‟s

ambitious and far too canny for an old churchman but to surrender Castile into

Habsburg hands would be unthinkable.”

The mention of my father roused sharp doubt in my heart. I looked away.

“Many a night I pondered his reasons for leaving me when I most had need of

him,” I said, my voice catching. “I have tried to accept that he is no longer the

invincible king of my childhood, that my mother‟s passing has left him vulnerable to

my husband and the nobles.”

“It is true,” said the admiral, and I thought I heard a guarded note in his voice.

“Your father had born the hatred of Castile‟s nobility all his life; had he stayed and

fought he would have risked not only his safety but also that of your son the infante

and Aragón‟s as well. Without your mother to defend him anymore, he is but a minor

king.”

“And yet I cannot help but feel he has deserted me.” I brought a hand to my

throat. My voice hardened. “I‟ve no doubt Cisneros is capable of playing a double

hand, but why does he not speak out against my husband if he serves my father? He‟s

still Castile‟s premier prelate.”

“According to him, because His Majesty your father asked that he not disclose

their plans under any circumstances, save for a direct threat on your life.”

I stared at him. “What plans?”

“All he said is that His Majesty wants your husband to make an open bid for the

throne.”

“An open bid!” My voice rose despite myself. I paused, took a deep breath.

“Why?”

“I do not know. But have no fear. Cisneros or not, Lucifer be damned, we
will

stop your husband. I swear that you on my honor.”

On the day the Cortes was to convene, he came to me before dawn. “They don‟t

suspect a thing. They anticipate protest from me by not from you. I leave my body

servant Cardoza outside to escort you.” He bowed over my hand. “I must go now to

take my seat in the Cortes.”

“My lord,” I said softly. He paused, raised his sad, beautiful eyes to mine. “I thank

you with all my heart. Were it not for you, I do not know where I might be.”

His sudden smile illumined weathered crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the

gleam of his strong white teeth and proud line of his jaw. “You are my queen. To

serve you is all I require.”

I felt the touch of his lips on my hand, the rough caress of his beard on my skin.

“I will await you,” he murmured, so quietly I almost didn‟t hear him. Then he turned

and left, as though he could not bear to deny the communion between us.

I rose and went to the window.

Far below, the Duero crawled past the city walls, its arid banks cracked by the

sun‟s wrath. Only ten years ago I had stood in this same palace, a virgin bride awaiting

the arrival of the admiral, who‟d escorted me to my betrothal. Now I waited again,

this time to declare open war on the man I had wed.

I was a queen. I could not look back. I would fight until I had nothing left to fight

with.

A knock came at the door. I smoothed the folds of my stiff new gown, adjusting

the extra panel at my waist. As I went to the door, my heel clacked on the floorboard

under which I‟d hidden the herbs taken from the gypsy‟s house, those herbs I had

grabbed in desperation and wildly considered using on myself should Philip succeed

in imprisoning me for good.

The admiral‟s body servant Cardoza, a burly Castilian with arms the size of beef

haunches, stood on my threshold. “Is Your Highness ready?”

I smiled. “I have waited all my life for this moment.”

He took met through a narrow passage connecting the
casa real
to the Alcázar and up a spiral staircase into an empty room. He clicked open a star-shaped aperture on a

woof and mother-of-pearl screen partition and motioned me to it. When I peered

through this peephole, I saw that the screen looked out onto the Cortes‟s hall, where

procurators gathered on their tiers.

The speaker of the Cortes banged his staff of office three times. Silence

descended. I discerned Don Manuel as he stood before the dais to read aloud Philip‟s

declaration. The procurators murmured. Then, as my hands knotted my skirts, Philip

stood, clad in violet silk, his voice reverberating against the walls.

“Noble lords, it is a dolorous burden I bring before you, one I would gladly

forsake my entire fortune to remedy. But the sad fact is that my wife, Doña Juana,

infanta and heir to this realm, has fallen prey to that malady that claimed her maternal

grandmother. She worsens with each day, and cannot, even by all the love we bear

her, possibly recover. She mustn‟t be made to suffer the burden of governance in her

state. Rather, we must send her to dwell in a safe place, where malcontents cannot

disturb her. I humbly ask that we resolve this terrible matter and embark on the task

of enthroning me as king, so I can assume the treasury of Castile and begin to guard

us past the dangerous uncertainty my wife‟s dementia has created.”

I whirled about; Cardoza detained me with a gentle hand. His eyes glimmered.

“Your Highness, please. Your time will come.”

In the
sala,
the admiral stood like a pillar of marble and velvet. “By the saints, never have I heard the like! Where is Her Highness to defend herself against these

claims? Are we, the members of these Cortes, not to be graced by her presence this

day?”

He swerved to the procurators, all of whom sat staring at the figure before them

as though he were an avenging archangel. “I have met with Her Highness,” he

continued, “I have spoken with her at length and seen with my own eyes this alleged

malady she suffers. And I tell you she is as sane as any one of us. I‟ll not consent to

the farce proposed here today.”

“We sympathize with your misgivings, my lord,” drawled Philip, though I could

detect the fury underscoring his feigned indifference. But the fact remains that these

very Cortes invested me as prince consort two years ago. I ask only that you recognize

my claim as king apparent given the circumstances. You needn‟t do anything that goes

against your conscience.”

The admiral retorted, “All of it goes against my conscience by your leave. Our late

queen Isabel left this realm to her daughter. No one save Doña Juana can bestow it

on another person. I saw no to your request, no to the disinheritance of our sovereign

queen Juana of Castile!”

I wanted to applaud. The Cortes erupted, members‟ voices clashing, fists banging

on tables, caps swept from brows and thrown to the floor, while the admiral beheld

the result of our insurrection.

Cardoza murmured, “It is time.” I straightened my shoulders, hearing the speaker

cried for silence as Cardoza led me to a small door that opened onto a narrow flight

of steps. As I quickly descended these steps to the hall, the speaker said, “We, the

members of the Cortes have heard His Highness the archduke‟s and my lord admiral‟s

requests. We will honor our past oaths to His Highness as prince-consort, but” ―he

lifted his voice over another surge of shouting― “we must also abide by the statutes

that uphold Her Highness the infanta as our rightful queen. We therefore ask that she

be brought before us to answer these claims, and―”

He did not have time to finish. “She is here, my lords,” bellowed the admiral.

I walked into the hall alone.

The silence that descended was so absolute that the cries of playing children could

be clearly heard through the overhead windows. I did not falter as I confronted the

mass of gaping faces, lifting my chin to meet Philip‟s horrified stare.

“My lords,” I declared and threw all my force into my voice, so that it would carry

to the very rafters, “do you recognize me as legitimate daughter and heir of Isabel, our

late queen?”

The speaker stammered, “We― we do, Your Highness. Most certainly.”

I raised my head a fraction higher, seeing Philip start to rise from his throne, his

hands clenching the gilded armrests as if he might crush them to splinters. “Then

since you recognize me,” I said to the speaker, “I will answer any questions you have.”

He turned to confer with the procurators beside him. There was an angry shaking

of heads, fervid mutters, before the speaker returned his solemn gaze to me. “We

have only one question at this time, Your Highness.”

“
Adalante,
my lord.”

“Does Your Highness wish to rule Castile as sovereign queen?”

I paused, the procurators, Don Manuel, and Philip were like effigies in their

chairs. I spoke the words I had prayed for, in hope that one day this moment would

come. “I do.”

There was an audible ripple of astonishment throughout the hall. Philip hurtled

from his seat. “By God, I‟ll not sit here and have my rights stolen away by a

madwoman!”

Cisneros arched his brow; the speaker said, “Your Highness, please sit down and

honor the processes of this assembly which were established long before your birth.”

Philip‟s shoulders hunched about his neck, his features malignant as he inched

back onto his chair as if the cushions contained live coals. The speaker inclined his

head, “Thank you, Your Highness.” He returned to me. “Does Your Highness have

any other requests of us?”

I nodded. “Yes, my lord. Since you recognize me as your lawful queen, I

command you to henceforth take yourselves to Toledo, where I shall be crowned

according to ancient custom. I also command that the treasury in Segovia remain in

the Marquise de Moya‟s safekeeping.”

The speaker nodded. “We are overjoyed by Your Highness‟s apparent good

health. May we have you leave to withdraw and discuss these requests with the gravity

they deserve?”

“My lord,” I replied, “you and these noble lords most certainly do.”

Then I turned and quit the hall.

――――――――――――

A TENSION-LADED DAY PASSED. Philip did not come to rage at me, nor did Don

Manuel. But in a way, I found their disregard more disturbing than their previous

berating; even the admiral confessed that though the procurators met daily, there was

a mysterious reticence on everyone‟s part to confront the beast in the room: mainly

that to enforce my claim, they must in turn disavow Philip‟s.

On the third day after my appearance before the Cortes and another sleepless

night in which I paced my rooms and felt my child quicken in my womb, the admiral

arrived. I took one look at his drawn face and felt myself turn to ice.

“Plague has broken out,” He said.

There was a terrible hush. Plague hadn‟t been a affliction I worried about in

Flanders, though it struck there as surely as anywhere else. We had seemed far

removed from its threat, so much so I couldn‟t recall it ever being an issue. In Spain,

however, it was a specter I‟d lived with since childhood. I remembered how my

mother insisted we leave every summer for the mountains of Granada before plague

season started and that dreadful summer in Toledo, when Besançon perished. Plague

flared up with often catastrophic effects in Castile, especially in the crowded cities, an unstoppable scourge that decimated entire provinces in a matter of days.

I genuflected. “God save us. Is it very bad. Is this why the Cortes delays

judgment?”

“Partly, yes.” He let out a terse chuckle. “So far, there haven‟t been any cases

reported in Valladolid itself, though your husband has seen the way the matter the

Cortes could go and has used the plague as an excuse to leave. It seems he harbors a

terror of infection.”

“Yes, ever since his adviser Archbishop Besançon died.”

“Or so he‟d have us believe,” remarked the admiral, with uncharacteristic asperity.

“In any event, the
grandes
swarm to him like wolves, hoping to squeeze favor out of his fear. They claim they‟ll reunite in Toledo once the plague dissipates.” He grimaced.

“There are far more cowards among them than ever I suspected. I argued this

morning that we must to our duty; that Castile cannot wait for them to render a

judgment. But they‟re beyond reason. Not even old Cisneros with his harangues could

detain them. I have to say this much in your husband‟s favor, he has the devil‟s own

luck.”

“I‟m to blame for that,” I said bitterly. “I told him the nobles would hang him

from a gibbet when he least expected it. It‟s just like him to heed me now, after

having ignored my advice for years.” I paused, searched his face. “Where will we go?”

“Burgos,” he said. He paced to my window, where he looked out toward the city,