‘Carlos died of a fever...’ began Isabella. Then she stopped. ‘Did he, Beatriz? Did he?’
‘It would have been a most convenient fever,’ said Beatriz.
‘I wish I could see Ferdinand... talk to Ferdinand...’ Isabella held her needle poised above her work. ‘Why should it not be that God has chosen Ferdinand to rule Aragon, and it is for this reason that his brother died?’
‘How can we know?’ said Beatriz. ‘I hope Ferdinand is not made unhappy by his brother’s death.’
‘How would one feel if a brother were removed so that one inherited the throne? How should I feel if Alfonso were taken like that?’ Isabella shivered. ‘Beatriz,’ she went on solemnly, ‘I should have no wish to inherit the throne of Castile unless it were mine by right. I would wish no harm to Alfonso of course, nor to Henry... in order that I might reach the throne.’
‘I know full well that you would not, for you are good. Yet what if the well-being of Castile depended on the removal of a bad king?’
‘You mean... Henry?’
‘We should not even speak of such things,’ said Beatriz. ‘What if we were overheard?’
Isabella said: ‘No, we must not speak of them. But tell me this first. You do not know of any plan to remove... Henry?’
‘I think that Villena might make such plans.’
‘But why?’
‘I think he and his uncle might wish to put Alfonso in Henry’s place as ruler of Castile, that they might rule Alfonso.’
‘That would be highly dangerous.’
‘But perhaps I am wrong. This is idle gossip.’
‘I trust you are wrong. Beatriz. Now that my mother has gone back to Arevalo I often think how much more peaceful life has become. But perhaps I delude myself. My mother could not hide her desires, her excitement. Perhaps others desire and plan in secret. Perhaps there is as much danger in the silences of some as in the hysteria of my mother.’
‘Have you heard from her since she reached Arevalo?’
‘Not from her but from one of her friends. She often forgets that we are not there with her. When she remembers she is very melancholy. I hear that she lapses into moods of depression, when she expresses her fears that neither Alfonso nor I will ever wear the crown of Castile. Oh, Beatriz, I often think how happy I might have been if we were not a royal family. If I were your sister, shall I say, and Alfonso your brother, how happy we might have been. But from the time I was able to speak I was continually told: “You could be Queen of Castile.” It made none of us happy. It seems to me that there has always been a reaching out for something beyond us... for something that would be highly dangerous should we possess it. Oh, you should be happy, Beatriz. You do not know how happy.’
‘Life is a battle for all of us,’ murmured Beatriz. ‘And you shall be happy, Isabella. I hope I shall always be there to see and perhaps, in my small way, contribute to that happiness.’
‘When I marry Ferdinand and go to Aragon, you must accompany me there, Beatriz.’
Beatriz smiled a little sadly. She did not believe that she would be allowed to follow Isabella to Aragon; she herself would have to marry; her husband would be Andres de Cabrera, an officer of the King’s household, and her duty would be to stay with him, not to go with Isabella – if Isabella ever went to Aragon.
She smiled fondly at her mistress. For Isabella had no doubt. Isabella saw her future with Ferdinand as clearly as she saw the piece of needlework now in her hand.
Beatriz gazed out of the window and said: ‘There is your brother. He has returned from a ride.’
Isabella dropped her work and went to the window. Alfonso looked up, saw them and waved.
Isabella beckoned, and Alfonso leaped from his horse, left it with a groom and came into the Palace.
‘How he grows,’ said Beatriz. ‘One would not believe he is only eleven.’
‘He has changed a great deal since he came to Court. I think we both have. He has changed too since our mother went away.’
They were both more light-hearted now, Beatriz thought. Poor Isabella, how she must have suffered through that mother of hers! It had made her serious beyond her years. Alfonso came into the room. He was flushed and looked very healthy from his ride.
‘You called me,’ he said, embracing Isabella and turning to bow to Beatriz. ‘Did you want to talk to me?’
‘I always want to talk to you,’ said Isabella. ‘But there is nothing in particular.’
Alfonso looked relieved. ‘I was afraid something had gone amiss.’
‘You were expecting something?’ she asked anxiously.
Alfonso looked at Beatriz.
‘You must not mind Beatriz,’ said Isabella. ‘She and I discuss everything together. She is as our sister.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Alfonso. ‘And you ask if I am expecting something. I would say I am always expecting something. There is always something either happening or threatening to happen here. Surely all Courts are not like this one, are they?’
‘In what way?’ asked Beatriz.
‘I do not think there could be another King like Henry in the world. Nor a Queen like Joanna... and a situation such as that relating to the baby.’
‘Such situations may have occurred before,’ mused Isabella.
‘There is going to be trouble. I know it,’ said Alfonso.
‘Someone has been talking to you.’
‘It was the Archbishop.’
‘You mean the Archbishop of Toledo?’
‘Yes,’ said Alfonso. ‘He has been very gracious to me of late... too gracious.’
Beatriz and Isabella exchanged glances of apprehension.
‘He shows me a respect which I have not received before,’ went on Alfonso. ‘I do not think the Archbishop is very pleased with our brother.’
‘It is not for an Archbishop to be displeased with a King,’ Isabella reminded him.
‘Oh, but it could be for this Archbishop and this King,’ Alfonso corrected her.
Isabella said: ‘I have heard that Henry has agreed to a match between the little Princess and Villena’s son. Thus he could make sure of keeping Villena his friend.’
‘The people would never agree to that,’ said Beatriz.
‘And,’ put in Alfonso, ‘there is going to be an enquiry into the legitimacy of the little Princess. If it is found that she cannot be the King’s daughter, then... they will proclaim me heir to the throne.’ He looked bewildered. ‘Oh, Isabella,’ he went on, ‘how I wish that we need not be bothered. How tiresome it is! It is as it was when our mother was with us. Do you remember – at the slightest provocation we would be told that we must take care, we must do this, we must not do that, because it was possible that we should one day inherit the crown? How tired I am of the crown! I wish I could ride and swim and do what other boys do. I wish I did not have to be regarded always as a person to be watched. I do not want the Archbishop to make a fuss of me, to tell me he is my very good friend and will always be at hand to protect me. I will choose my own friends, and they will not be Archbishops.’
‘There is someone at the door,’ said Beatriz.
She went towards it and opened it swiftly.
A man was standing there.
He said: ‘I have a message for the Infanta Isabella.’ And Beatriz stood aside for him to enter.
As he came towards her Isabella thought: How long has he been standing outside the door? What has he heard? What had they said?
Alfonso was right. There was no peace for them. Their actions were watched; everything they did was spied upon. It was one of the penalties for being a possible candidate for the throne.
‘You would speak with me?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Infanta. I bring a message from your noble brother, the King. He wishes you to come with all speed to his presence.’