‘You want everyone to be perfect in a perfect world,’ murmured Beatriz with a smile.
‘No, not perfect... merely normal,’ said Alfonso sadly. ‘Do you know that the heads of the confederacy are meeting the King this day?’
‘Yes,’ said Isabella.
‘I wonder what they will decide.’
‘We shall soon know,’ said Beatriz.
‘These confederates,’ went on Alfonso, ‘they have chosen me... me... as their figurehead. I do not want to be part of the confederacy. All I want is to stay here and enjoy my life. I want to go riding; I want to fence and play games. I want to sit with you two and talk now and then, not about unpleasant things... but about comfortable, cosy things.’
‘Well, let us do that,’ said Isabella. ‘Let us now be cosy... comfortable.’
‘How can we,’ demanded Alfonso passionately, ‘when we can never be sure what is going to happen next?’
There was silence.
What a pity, thought Isabella, it is that princes and princesses cannot always be children. What a pity that they have to grow up and that people often fight over them.
‘Do the people hate Henry so much?’ asked Alfonso.
‘Some of them are displeased,’ Beatriz answered him.
‘They have reason to be,’ Isabella spoke with some vehemence. ‘I have heard that it is unsafe to travel through the countryside without an armed escort. This is terrible. It is an indication of the corrupt state into which our country is falling. I have heard that travellers are captured and held to ransom, and that even noble families have taken up this evil trade and ply it shamelessly.’
‘There is the Hermandad, which has been set up to restore law and order,’ said Beatriz. ‘Let us hope it will do its work well’
‘It does what it can,’ Isabella pointed out. ‘But it is a small force as yet; and everywhere in our country villainies persist. Oh, Alfonso, what a lesson this is to us. If ever we should be called upon to rule we must employ absolute justice. We must never install favourites; we must set good examples and never be extravagant in our personal demands; we must always please our people while helping them to become good Christians.’
A page had come into the room.
He bowed before Isabella and said that the Marquis de Villena with the Archbishop of Toledo were below; they were asking to be received by the Infante Alfonso.
Alfonso looked sharply at his sister. His eyes appealed. He wanted to say that he could not be seen; for these were the two men whom he feared more than any others, and the fact that they had come to see him filled him with dread.
‘You should receive them,’ said Isabella.
‘Then I will do so here,’ said Alfonso almost defiantly. ‘Bring them to me.’
The page bowed and retired, and Alfonso turned in panic to his sister.
‘What do they want of me?’
‘I know no more than you do.’
‘They have come from their audience with the King.’
‘Alfonso,’ said Isabella earnestly, ‘be careful. We do not know what they are going to suggest. But remember this: You cannot be King while Henry lives. Henry is the true King of Castile; it would be wrong for you to put yourself at the head of a faction which is trying to replace him. That would mean war, and you would be on the wrong side.’
‘Isabella...’ Tears filled his eyes, but he dared not shed them. ‘Oh, why will they not let us alone! Why do they torment us so?’
She could have answered him. She could have said: Because in their eyes we are not human beings. We are lay figures placed at certain distances from the throne. They want power and they seek to obtain it through us.
Poor, poor Alfonso, even more vulnerable than she was herself.
The page was ushering in the Marquis of Villena and the Archbishop of Toledo, who seemed astonished to find Isabella and Beatriz there; but Alfonso immediately put on the air of an Infante and said: ‘You may tell me your business. These ladies share my confidence.’
The Marquis and the Archbishop smiled almost obsequiously, but their respect could only disturb the others.
‘We come from the King,’ said the Archbishop.
‘And you have a message from His Highness for me?’ Alfonso enquired.
‘Yes, you are to prepare to leave your apartments here for new ones.’
‘Which apartments are these?’
‘They are mine,’ said the Marquis.
‘But I do not understand.’
For answer the Marquis came forward, knelt and took Alfonso’s hand.
‘Principe, you are to be proclaimed heir to the throne of Castile.’
A faint colour crept into Alfonso’s cheeks.
‘That is preposterous. How can I be? My brother will beget children yet. Moreover he has a daughter.’
The Archbishop gave his short rasping laugh. He deplored wasting time.
‘Your brother will never beget children,’ he said, ‘and a commission, set up to study the matter, has grave doubts that the young Joanna is his daughter. In view of this we have insisted that you be proclaimed the heir, and my nephew here has permission to take you under his guardianship that you may be trained in all the duties which, as King, will be yours.’
There was a short silence, and when Alfonso spoke, his tone was bleak. ‘So,’ he said, ‘I am to settle under your wing.’
‘It shall be my greatest pleasure to serve Your Highness.’
Then Alfonso smiled in momentary hopefulness. ‘I am capable of looking after myself, and I am very happy here in my apartments next to my sister’s.’
‘Oh,’ laughed the Marquis, ‘there will not be much change. We shall merely look after you and see that you are prepared for your role. You will see much of your sister. There will be no attempt to curtail your pleasures.’
‘How can you know that?’
‘Dear Highness, we will make sure of it.’
‘What if my pleasure is to stay as I am and not come under your guardianship?’
‘Your Highness is pleased to joke. Could you leave at once?’
‘No. I wish to be with my sister a little longer. We were talking together when you interrupted us.’
‘We crave Your Highness’s pardon,’ said Villena in false concern. ‘We will leave you to finish your conversation with your sister, and we will await your pleasure in the ante-room. You should bring your most trusted servant with you. I have already given him instructions to prepare for your departure.’
‘But you... you gave instructions!’
‘In matters like this one must act with speed,’ said the Archbishop.
Alfonso appeared resigned. He watched the two schemers retire, but when he turned to Isabella and Beatriz, they were both struck by the look of despair in his face.
‘Oh, Isabella, Isabella,’ he cried, and she put her arms about him and held him close.
‘You see,’ he went on, ‘it has come. I know what they will try to do. They will make me King, And I do not want to be King, Isabella. I am afraid of them. I shall have forced upon me that which is greatly coveted. All Kings should be wary, but none so much as those who are forced to wear the crown before it is theirs by right. Isabella, perhaps one day someone will do to me what was done to Carlos... to Blanche...’
‘These are morbid fancies,’ Isabella chided him.
‘I do not know,’ said Alfonso. ‘Isabella, I am afraid because I do not know.’
Joanna stormed into her husband’s apartments.
‘So you have allowed them to dictate to you!’ she cried. ‘You have allowed them to bring about the disinheritance of our daughter, and put up that sly young Alfonso in her place.’