‘They cannot do this... they cannot do this,’ wailed Henry. ‘Have I not my own child!’
‘Indeed you have your own child. I gave you that child. And there were not many women in Castile who could have managed that. Look at your trials and failures with your first wife. Now you have your child. Our little Joanna will remain heiress to the throne. We will not have Alfonso.’
‘No,’ said the King. ‘There is little Joanna. She is my heir. There is no law in Castile to prevent one of the female sex taking the crown.’
‘Then we must be firm. One of these days Villena will march to the executioner’s knife, and he’ll take that villainous old Archbishop with him. In the meantime we must be firm.’
‘We will be firm,’ echoed Henry uncertainly.
‘And not forget those who are ready to stand firmly beside us.’
‘Oh yes, I wish there were more to stand firmly with us. I wish there need not be this strife.’
‘We shall be strong. But let us make sure of the strength of our loyal supporters. Let us give them our grateful thanks. You are grateful, are you not, Henry?’
‘Yes, I am grateful’
‘Then you must show your gratitude.’
‘Do I not?’
‘Not sufficiently.’
Henry looked surprised.
‘There is Beltran,’ the Queen went on. ‘What honours has he had? The Count of Ledesma! What is that for one who has worked with us... for us... unflinchingly and devotedly? One to whom we should be for ever grateful. You must honour him further.’
‘My dear, what do you suggest?’
‘That he be made Master of Santiago.’
‘Master of Santiago! But that is the greatest of honours. He would be endowed with vast estates and revenues. Why, he would have the largest armed force in the Kingdom put into his hands.’
‘And it is too much, you think?’
‘I think, my dear? It is the people who will think it is too much.’
‘Your enemies?’
‘It is necessary to placate our enemies.’
‘Coward! Coward! You have always been a coward! You fret over your enemies and forget your friends.’
‘I am willing to honour him, my dear. But to make him Master of Santiago... !’
‘It is too much... too much for your friend! You would rather give it to your enemies!’
The Queen put her hands on her hips and laughed at him.
Now she was ready to begin pacing the apartment again. She was going to start once more on that diatribe which he had heard many times before. He was a coward; he deserved his imminent fate; when he was thrust from his throne he would remember that he had spurned her advice; he placated his enemies, and those who served him with every means at their disposal – like Beltran de la Cueva – were forgotten.
Henry lifted his hands as though to ward off this spate of accusation.
‘That is enough,’ he said. ‘Let him have it. Let us bestow on Beltran the Mastership of Santiago.’
Now the new party was in revolt. It was humiliating enough, they said, to be forced to suspect the legitimacy of the heiress to the throne, but to see the King so far forget his dignity as to heap honours on the man who was generally accepted as her father was intolerable.
Castile trembled on the edge of civil war.
Valladolid was entered by the rebels and several of Villena’s party of confederates declared that they were holding the city against the King, However, the citizens of Valladolid, while deploring the weakness of the King, were not ready to ally themselves with Villena; and they expelled the intruders. But when Henry, travelling to Segovia, very narrowly escaped being kidnapped by the confederates, he was thoroughly alarmed. He, who had worked hard at nothing except avoiding trouble, now found himself in the midst of it.
Villena wrote to him. He was grieved, he said, that enemies had come between them. If the King would see him and the heads of his party he would do his utmost to put an end to the strife which trembled so near to civil war.
The King had deplored the loss of Villena’s counsel. Villena had been the strong man Beltran could never be. Beltran was charming, and his company pleasant; but Henry needed the strength of Villena to lean on; and when he received this communication he was anxious to meet his ex-minister.
Villena, delighted at the turn of events, met Henry. With Villena came his uncle, the Archbishop, also the Count Benavente.
‘Highness,’ Villena addressed Henry when they were gathered together, ‘the Commission, which has been set up to test the legitimacy of the Princess Joanna, has grave doubts that she is your daughter. In view of this we deem it wise that your half-brother Alfonso be proclaimed as your heir. You yourself must abandon your Moorish Guard and live a more Christian life. Beltran de la Cueva is to be deprived of the Mastership of Santiago. And finally your half-brother Alfonso is to be delivered into my hands that I may be his guardian.’
‘You ask too much,’ Henry told him sadly. ‘Too much.’
‘Highness,’ urged Villena, ‘it would be wise for you to accept our terms.’
‘The alternative?’ asked Henry.
‘Civil war, I greatly fear, Highness.’
Henry hesitated. It was so easy to agree, but he had later to face an enraged Joanna, who was determined that her daughter should have the crown. Then Henry slyly thought of a way of pleasing both Joanna and Villena.
‘I agree,’ he said, ‘that Beltran de la Cueva shall be deprived of the Mastership of Santiago and that you shall become the guardian of Alfonso. He shall be proclaimed heir to the throne, but there is a condition.’
‘What condition is this?’ asked Villena.
‘That he shall, in due course, marry the Princess Joanna.’
Villena was startled. The heir to the throne marry the King’s illegitimate daughter! Well, on consideration it was not a bad suggestion. There would always be some to declare that La Beltraneja had been falsely so called; there would also be others who, seeking a cause for which to make trouble, would choose hers. Moreover, it would be some years before La Beltraneja was of an age to marry. By that time, if necessary, other arrangements could be made.
‘I do not see,’ said Villena, ‘why this should not be.’
Henry felt pleased with his little effort of diplomacy. He could now more easily face the Queen.
Alfonso sat at his sister’s feet, watching her as she worked at her embroidery. Beatriz de Bobadilla was with her.
Alfonso had lately made a habit of spending a great deal of time in his sister’s apartments.
Poor Alfonso, mused Isabella; he is old enough to understand the intrigues which split the Court in two; and he knows that he – even more than I – is at their very core.
‘Alfonso,’ she said. ‘You must not brood. It does no good.’
‘But I have a feeling that I shall not be allowed to stay here much longer.’
‘Why should they take you away?’ asked Beatriz. ‘They know you are safe here.’
‘Perhaps they do not greatly care for my safety.’
‘You are wrong in that,’ said Isabella. ‘You are very important to them.’
‘I wish,’ said Alfonso, ‘that we were a more normal family. Why could not we all have been the children of our father’s first wife! Then I think Henry would have loved us as you and I love each other. Why could not Henry have taken a wife who was more like a Queen, and had many sons about whose parentage there would have been no question!’