The Winding Stair (42 page)

There had been a murmur of approval. Apparently they did.

He had returned to the larger issue. His intention was to come ultimately to an agreement with Napoleon, whom he described as ‘the other strong man of Europe'. Juana thought the plan a diabolically clever one. Junot and the French army were to be lured further and further into Portugal by the apparent inertia of the country. Then, at the last moment, the Prince Regent and his family would be murdered, the country would rally behind the miraculous ‘Sebastian', and the army would march in from the coast and confront Junot's force which would by then be worn out with its long march. ‘They'll be expecting nothing of the kind,' Vasco had said. ‘And I saw Junot's army: it's composed mainly of raw recruits. They'll give us no trouble. Not when they know we mean business. Junot can act as my ambassador to his master.'

Even if Dom John and his family decided to escape to the Brazils, Vasco's intention was that they should be killed, down to the last infant. ‘We've had enough of the Braganzas, my friends.'

And there had been a muffled shout of ‘Long live the House of Aviz.'

In response to a question put by a voice Juana could just hear,
and, maddeningly, thought familiar, Vasco had explained his position further. The rank and file of the Sons of the Star, he said, were a sentimental, woolly-minded lot who would boggle at murder. Much better that they should think Dom John and his family would be spared. They would be useful, were in fact essential for the destruction of the French army. ‘After that,' he said, ‘it will be time to show our hand.'

Someone must have asked him how the rank and file of the Brotherhood were to be persuaded to fight the French, with whom, as liberals, they had such sympathy. Vasco had given a great guffaw of laughter at this point. ‘I've news for you, gentlemen.' He told them that ten days earlier the French and Spanish had signed a secret treaty at Fontainebleau, by the terms of which Portugal was to be divided into three parts, one to be given to the young King of Etruria, one controlled by the French, and one to be handed over as a kingdom to the infamous Spanish minister, Godoy. ‘When I tell them that, Brothers, our problem will be to make them wait until the French have walked into our trap.'

As always, with Vasco, Juana had had the feeling that even now he was not telling his allies everything. It was fantastic, but she found herself even wondering whether he had not, in fact, some secret, agreement, himself, with Napoleon. Certainly he planned, ultimately, to work hand in glove with the French, and a few casual words left her in no doubt as to what would be the fate of Strangford and his entourage if they should be so unlucky as to be still in the country when he took over. Her own ultimate fate, both as woman and as English seemed no less certain. After the birth, of course, of the couple of brats he had spoken of.

But there was still a little time. Junot's army would not walk into the trap for two weeks or more. The final arrangements would be made at next week's meeting of the Sons of the Star. ‘Precipitate action would be fatal, Brothers.'

Most of the time she had been unable to hear anyone but Vasco, presumably because he sat at the head of the table nearest the fireplace but at the end a question had come over brutally clear. ‘And the woman? Our future Queen? Marriage has made her co-operative?'

She had been right. Vasco had told his friends they were married. ‘I expect no trouble from her,' he said now, repressively.

‘And when do we expect an heir?' The question was part of a half heard barrage of ribald comment, the gist of which seemed to be that marriage with her was a sacrifice Vasco had to make for the cause.

It was a long time before Juana slept that night.

The days crept by. Listening to the meeting of the inner circle seemed to have exhausted Juana's luck. She was on the alert, all the time, for the slightest chance of escaping, or at least getting a message out, but none came. The ring of protective custody around her was absolute. In moments of near despair, she thought of trying to win old Luisa over to her side, but abandoned the idea as worse than hopeless. For Luisa, the sun rose and set in Vasco. To tamper with her was to ensure disaster.

Confinement was beginning to tell on her health as well as her spirits. She slept badly, haunted by horrible dreams, and in the daytime made herself walk up and down, up and down the bedroom in a vain effort to tire herself out. An appeal to Vasco to let her walk in the courtyard after dark fell on deaf ears. ‘We must take no chances, my Queen.'

She felt sick now, when he called her that, but luckily he noticed her less and less as the days wore on toward the November meeting of the Sons of the Star. He had never referred to her suggestion that she should act as Handmaiden, and she did not dare bring the subject up, for fear of rousing his suspicions. Pacing her room at night, when Luisa was sleeping the deep sleep of the stupid, she saw the central courtyard filled with moonlight. Two days to the meeting … one day … tomorrow … tonight.

She had not seen Vasco for two days. Perhaps he would not even return before the meeting. She must not think like that, it was too close to despair. ‘I'm bored,' she said to old Luisa. ‘When is the master coming home?' She had fallen into Luisa's habit of calling him this, because she could hardly bear to say his name.

‘I thought you were missing him!' The old woman was delighted with the question. ‘I knew why you were moping, my Princess, better than you did yourself. Never mind, I've good news for you: it won't be long now. He sent word this morning that he would sup with you tonight.' She had crossed the room to the wardrobe where hung the regal gowns Vasco must have had
made in advance. ‘You are to wear this. See! A gown for a Queen.' She shook out crimson velvet folds lovingly.

‘But I'll stifle in it!' These clothes, too, witness of Vasco's long-term planning, made her feel sick, and not only with fright.

‘Never mind that. The master expressly said you were to wear it.'

Why? Not, surely, just to sup with him. What did he care what she wore? Wild hope flooded through Juana. ‘Oh, in that case,' she said, ‘of course I will.'

‘And the diadem too.' Luisa went on. ‘Look, senhora, did you ever see anything so beautiful? It will hide that short hair of yours and make you look every inch a Queen.'

‘Yes, several inches too many.' Juana made it a joke, but a cold premonitory finger touched her spine. Suppose she did not manage to get out of this; suppose she found herself, fantastically, Queen to Vasco's King Sebastian? How long would he bear the fact that she towered half a head above him?

The crimson velvet was a perfect fit. ‘How on earth did he manage?' asked Juana, as Luisa shook out the heavy folds of the skirt.

‘Manage? Oh – to get the fit? Why, Maria, of course; she came every day for a while.'

‘Did she?' The ground shook under Juana's feet. Maria, her friend from childhood, had been conspiring against her all the time. Was there no one she could trust?

‘There!' Luisa adjusted the shimmering diadem on Juana's rebellious locks. ‘There,' she said again, with complete satisfaction, and then, surprisingly, sank into a deep, awkward curtsey. ‘God save your majesty!'

It was at once moving and terrifying. ‘I hope He will,' said Juana.

Her thoughts were racing. This regal costume must mean that Vasco intended to present her to the Sons of the Star tonight. It might give her a chance, a hairsbreadth, desperate chance to save herself, and Portugal. She must be ready to take it with both hands and use it with all her intelligence. That was her only weapon, she knew, against Vasco – the fact that he thought of her almost as a thing, not for a moment as an equal.

When he arrived, she became aware of another advantage. He was visibly taken aback by the regal figure she presented, and kissed her hand with a deference that had been notably absent
since he had had her in his power. When he said, ‘My Queen,' she thought he almost meant it.

She would ask no questions. She had thought about this meeting all day and had drilled herself to impassivity. Whatever his plan was, she would make him broach it, would seem, herself, hardly interested, just the mindless female he expected.

She made herself eat heartily of a dish of chicken with rice and almonds, drank a glass of wine, and said nothing. As the silent meal dragged on, she began to be aware of his sideways glance upon her. When he had planned this conversation, she thought, it had began with a question from her. He would have to replan it.

‘It's the full moon tonight,' he said at last.

‘Good gracious, so it is! I had quite forgotten. One loses count of the days, shut up as I have been.' And then, quickly: ‘Don't think I'm complaining, cousin; that would be ungrateful indeed. But is it really the full moon?'

‘Yes.' He took this, she saw with pleasure, as merely another proof of her expected stupidity. ‘It is indeed, and the last time the Sons of the Star will meet in secret.'

‘Goodness!' She tried to sound like Daisy. ‘Are you sure? Isn't it exciting?'

‘I find it so. But, Juana, a while ago you said you would like to act once more as Handmaiden of the Star. Do you remember?' He obviously thought it quite possible that she had forgotten.

‘Of course I do,' she said warmly. ‘I thought it would be so splendid to do it when I knew it was for you, cousin. But I thought you didn't like the idea, so I rather gave it up.' She looked at him with what she hoped were large, adoring eyes and wished she could inconspicuously get herself slumped down still further against the table so that the difference in their height would be less apparent.

‘You were right. I didn't much like it at the time, but now things have changed. Are you ready to do it once more, my Queen, for my sake?'

‘But of course. Why should I be afraid when I know you are there? Only – in these beautiful clothes?' She left it, vacuously, in character.

‘Luisa will find you a black robe to wear over them. The Sons of the Star will never know that a Queen has acted as their Handmaiden tonight.'

Oh yes they will, she thought. It was clear now. He meant, suddenly, somehow, to bring her forward and present her to the Sons of the Star as Queen Juana. This would be her chance. She must be ready for it.

But it seemed fantastic that he should risk it. Could she really have fooled him to such a point? She would like to think so, but could not. So, when he suggested a glass of madeira with dessert, she moved, carelessly, so that she could watch him in that invaluable looking-glass. And saw, once again, a vial produced from his pocket. What could it hold this time? Not a soporific, surely, but something that deadened the will? That would make her act as his puppet?

‘Thank you.' She accepted the glass enthusiastically. ‘I need this if I must really go down the winding stair once more. But how shall I get to it?' It was surely a natural enough question, but one, she hoped, that he would find it difficult to answer. At all costs he must be distracted for a few moments while she got rid of her dubious drink. ‘You'll never take me through the castle, surely?' If only he would.

‘Leave all to me, my Queen. I have a secret way of my own. Only, for your own sake, you will let me bandage your eyes? It's safer for you that you should not know it.'

‘Of course, if you say so.' She pretended to sip her drink, but merely let the liquid touch her lips. ‘Your madeira is delicious, cousin.' He was sitting across the table from her, watching her every move. She pretended another sip, and, this time, was compelled to let a few drops into her mouth. She dared not swallow them but tilted her head back a little so that the sweet liquid settled under her tongue. ‘But strong.' Her singer's training stood her in good stead. ‘Could I have one of those little cakes to go with it?' Her handkerchief was ready in her hand as he rose to fetch the plate of sweet cakes from the sideboard. When he returned, it was back in her lap again, soaked in madeira. But there was still the nearly full glass to be dealt with. She took another pretence sip and a bite of cake. ‘What time do we start?'

‘Soon. Drink up your wine, my Queen.' She could feel his impatience strong in the air between them.

‘It's making me dizzy.' Would he know what the effect of those sinister drops should be? ‘I must have a breath of air.' She rose and moved over to the window. ‘How glad I shall be to get out
of doors again.' She felt that he was following her, but had a moment while her body screened what she was doing. It was time enough to tilt the glass against the heavy velvet curtains so that the liquid trickled slowly down them. She left a little in the bottom and turned back to face him. ‘It's quite the most delicious madeira I ever tasted, but the strongest too. I feel ready for anything, cousin, even the winding stair. Look! The moon is up already.' Still standing by the window, she kept between him and the tell-tale stain on the curtain.

‘Yes. Time we thought about going. It's a roundabout route, I'm afraid, I have to take you to the cavern. The carriage is ready.'

‘But what about my cloak? The bandage for my eyes? Are you sure I ought to go down into that horrid cavern in this dress? It's the most beautiful one I ever had: I wouldn't want to spoil it.' She sounded, and meant to sound a complete fool. Anything to get those probing eyes off her for a moment.

‘There'll be a hundred more where it came from. It's time to go.'

‘So soon?' She leaned towards him lovingly. ‘I've missed you so, these last two days. When can we be together all the time, my King?'

He backed away a little. ‘Very soon now. Tonight I launch my great enterprise. I only wish you could be there to see, instead of shut up in the Handmaiden's cell.'

‘So do I.' Thank God (and Mrs. Brett) that he did not know she would in fact see and hear everything. She leaned a little nearer to him. ‘Your day of glory,' she murmured.