‘Highness,’ began Isabella, ‘could I not remain in your presence? Must I hide myself?’
‘My dear child, do you imagine that the Grand Master of Calatrava would disclose his mission in your presence! Now... obey me immediately. Come. This will hide you completely. Stay perfectly still, and listen to what he has to say. And particularly note my acceptance of the news.’
Feeling that it was some mad game she was being forced to play, a game not in accord with her dignity, which had increased since her coming to Court, Isabella allowed herself to be placed behind the hangings.
After a few minutes Don Pedro was ushered into the apartments of the Dowager Queen.
‘Highness,’ he said, kneeling, ‘it is gracious of you to receive me.’
‘It gives me pleasure,’ was the answer.
‘I had a feeling within me, Highness, that I should cause you no offence by coming to you thus.’
‘On the contrary, Don Pedro. I am ready to listen to your proposition.’
‘Highness, have I your permission to sit?’
‘Assuredly.’
Isabella heard the scrape of chair-legs as they sat down.
‘Highness.’
‘Well, Don Pedro?’
‘I have long been aware of you. On those happy occasions when I have been at some ceremony which Your Highness attended I have been aware of no one else.’
There was a strange silence in the room, not lost on the hidden Isabella.
‘I trust that you, Highness, have not been completely unaware of me.’
The Dowager Queen answered, and her voice showed she was bewildered: ‘One would not be unaware of the brother of such a personage as the Marquis of Villena.’
‘Ah, my brother. Highness, I would have you know that his interests are mine. We are as one... in our desire to see peace in this Kingdom.’
Now the Queen felt and sounded happier. ‘I had guessed that, Don Pedro.’
‘Would it surprise you, Highness, if I told you that there have been occasions when my brother, the Marquis, has discussed his policies with me and listened to my advice?’
‘It would not. You are Grand Master of a Holy Order. Naturally you should be able to advise your brother... spiritually.’
‘Highness, there is one thing I would work for... body and soul... that is the acceptance of your son the Infante Alfonso as heir to the throne of Castile. I would see the little bastard girl, now known as the heir, proclaimed for what she is. It need not be long before this happens... if...’
‘If, Don Pedro?’
‘I have made Your Highness aware of the influence I have with my brother, and you know full well the power he wields in this land. If you and I were friends, there is nothing I would not do... not only to have the boy proclaimed heir, but to... I must whisper this... Come, sweet lady, let me put my lips to your ear... to depose Henry in favour of your son Alfonso.’
‘Don Pedro!’
‘I said, my dearest lady, if we were friends.’
‘I do not understand you. You speak in riddles.’
‘Oh, you are not so blind as you would have me believe. You are still a beautiful woman, dear lady. Come... come... I hear you lived most piously at that deadly place in Arevalo... but this is the Court. You are not old... nor am I. I think we could bring a great deal of pleasure to each other’s lives.’
‘I think, Don Pedro,’ said the Dowager Queen, ‘that you must be suffering from a temporary madness.’
‘Not I, dear lady, not I. As for yourself you would be completely well if you lived a more natural life. Come, do not be so prudish. Follow the fashion. By the saints, I swear you will never regret the day you and I become lovers.’
The Dowager Queen had leaped to her feet. Isabella heard the urgent scrape of her chair. She heard also the note of alarm in her mother’s voice. Looking through the folds of brocade she saw a purple-faced man who seemed to her to symbolise all that was beastly in human nature. She saw her mother – no longer calm – afraid and shocked beyond her understanding.
Isabella knew that unless the man was dismissed her mother would begin to shout and wave her arms, and he would witness one of those wild scenes which she, Isabella, was so anxious should not be seen except by those whom she could trust.
Isabella forgot the instruction that she was to remain hidden. She stepped from her hiding-place into the room.
The purple-faced man with the evil expression stared at her as though she were a ghost. Indeed it must have seemed strange to him that she had apparently materialised from nowhere.
She drew herself to her full height and never before had she looked so much a Princess of Castile.
‘Sir,’ she said coldly, ‘I ask you to leave... immediately.’
Don Pedro stared at her incredulously.
‘Is it necessary,’ went on young Isabella, ‘for me to have you forcibly removed?’
Don Pedro hesitated. Then he bowed and left them.
Isabella turned to her mother, who was trembling so much that she could not speak.
She led her to a chair and stood beside her, her arms about her protectively.
She whispered gently: ‘Dearest Highness, he has gone now. He is evil... but has left us. We will never see him again. Do not tremble so. Let me take you to your bed. There you will lie down. He has gone now, that evil man.’
The Dowager Queen stood up and allowed Isabella to take her arm.
From that moment Isabella felt that she was the one who must care for her mother, that she was the strong one who must protect her brother and her mother from this wicked Court, this whirlpool of intrigue which was threatening to drag them down to... what? She could not imagine.
All she knew was that she was capable of defending herself, of bridging the dangerous years through which she must pass before she was safe as the bride of Ferdinand.
The Dowager Queen sent for Isabella. She had recovered from the shock of Giron’s proposals and was no longer stunned; she was very angry.
‘I am sorry, my daughter,’ said the Queen, ‘that you should have overheard such a revolting outburst. That man shall be severely punished. He shall very soon regret the day he submitted me to such indignity. You are coming with me to the King, to bear witness of what you overheard.’
Isabella was alarmed. She fully realised that the Grand Master of the Order of Calatrava had behaved disgracefully, but she had hoped that, once the man had been dismissed from her mother’s presence, his conduct might be forgotten; for remembering it could only serve to over-excite her mother.
‘We are going to Henry now,’ said the Dowager Queen. ‘I have told him that I must see him on a matter of great importance, and he has agreed to receive us.’ The Dowager Queen looked at her daughter, and tears came into her eyes.
‘My dear Isabella,’ she said, ‘I fear you are fast leaving childhood behind you. That is inevitable, since you must live at this Court. I could wish, my dear, that you and I and your brother could return to Arevalo. I think we should be so much happier there. Come.’
Henry received them with a show of affection.
He complimented Isabella on her appearance. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘my little sister is no longer a child. She grows every day. We are a tall family, Isabella; and you are no exception.’
He greeted his stepmother with equal warmth, although he was wondering what grievance had brought her – he felt sure it was a grievance.
‘Henry,’ said the Dowager Queen, ‘I have a complaint to make... a complaint of a most serious nature.’
The King put on an expression of concern, but Isabella, who was watching closely, saw that it thinly veiled one of exasperation.
‘I have been insulted by Don Pedro Giron,’ said the Dowager Queen dramatically.
‘That is very shocking,’ said Henry, ‘and I am grieved to hear it.’