‘Then we must wait...’
‘To delay could be to lose Isabella. Villena is working with all his might against the match. I believe his plan is to rid Castile of Isabella – perhaps by marriage, perhaps by other methods – and no doubt set up La Beltraneja in her place. My son, you may have to fight your way to Isabella...’ John stopped, and a smile spread across his face. ‘Why, Ferdinand, I think I have the solution to our problem. Listen to me. I will tell you briefly and then we will lay this plan before a secret council.’
‘I am eager to hear what you propose, Father,’ said Ferdinand.
‘The frontier from Almazin to Guadalajara will be dangerous for you to cross. It is the property of the Mendoza family which, as you know, supports La Beltraneja. If you travelled as yourself, with the embassy, nobles and servants, you would find it impossible to cross that frontier unobserved.
But what say you, my son, if you went with a party of merchants? What if you were disguised as one of their servants? I’ll warrant then that you would travel to Valladolid unmolested.’
Ferdinand wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘In the attire of a servant, Father!’
John put his arm about the young man’s shoulder.
‘It is the answer,’ he cried. ‘You will remember, Ferdinand, that a kingdom is at stake. Now I consider this, I see that it is the only manner in which you could hope to reach Isabella in safety. And think! It provides us with the excuse we need. What folly to equip you as a King when you travel as a merchant’s lackey!’
As soon as the innkeeper received the party of merchants he noticed their lackey. The fellow had an insolent air, and it was clear that he thought himself superior to the position he occupied.
‘Here, fellow,’ cried the innkeeper when the merchants were being ushered to the table, ‘you’ll need to go to the stables and see that your masters’ mules are being watered and fed.’
The arrogant fellow’s eyes flashed, and for a moment the innkeeper thought he struck an attitude as though he would draw his sword – if he possessed one.
One of the merchants intervened. ‘My good host, let your grooms attend to our mules... water and feed them while we ourselves are at table. As for our servant here, he will wait upon us.’
‘As you wish, good sirs,’ was the answer.
‘And,’ went on the merchant, ‘bring in the dishes. Our man will do the rest. We would be left in peace to eat our meal as we have business to discuss.’
‘I am at your service, my masters.’
When the landlord had left them, Ferdinand grimaced.
‘I fear I make an indifferent lackey.’
‘Considering that Your Highness has never played the part before, you do it very well.’
‘Yet I fancy the man believes me to be an unusual servant, and that is what we must avoid. I shall be glad when the role is ended. It becomes me not.’
Ferdinand touched the rough cloth of his serving-man’s doublet with distaste. He was young enough to be vain of his personal appearance, and because all through his life he had lived in fear of losing his inheritance, his dignity was especially dear to him. He was less philosophical than his father, and less able to stomach the indignity of creeping into Castile like a beggar. He had to accept the fact that Castile and Leon were of greater significance than Aragon; and it went hard with him that he, a man and prospective husband, should have to take second place with his future wife.
It should not continue to be so, he told himself, once he and Isabella were married.
‘It will not be long, Highness,’ he was told, ‘that you have to masquerade thus. When we reach the castle of the Count of Trevino in Osma it will not be necessary for you to travel thus ignobly. And Trevino is waiting for us with a right good welcome.’
‘I can scarcely wait for our arrival at Osma.’
The innkeeper had come in to usher into the room a servant who carried a steaming dish of olla podrida. It smelt good, and for a moment the men sniffed at it so hungrily that Ferdinand, who had been leaning against the table talking to the merchants, forgot to adopt the attitude of a servant.
So surprised was the innkeeper that he stopped and stared.
Ferdinand immediately understood and tried to put on a humble air, but he felt he had betrayed himself.
When he was again alone with his friends, he said: ‘I hope the innkeeper does not suspect that we are not what we pretend to be.’
‘We will soon deal with him, Highness, should he show too much curiosity.’
Ferdinand said it would be better if he were not addressed as Highness until the journey was over.
As they were eating their meal, one of the men looked up suddenly and saw a face at the window. It disappeared immediately, so that he was not sure whether it had been that of the innkeeper or one of his servants.
‘Look! The window,’ he said quietly; but the others were too late to see the face.
When he explained what he had seen dismay fell on the company.
‘There can be no doubt,’ said Ferdinand, ‘that we are under suspicion.’
‘I will go out and slit the throat of the inquisitive innkeeper and all his servants,’ cried one member of the band.
‘That would indeed be folly,’ said another. ‘Perhaps the same idle curiosity is shown here towards all travellers. Eat as fast as you can and we will be gone. It may well be that someone has already sent a message to our enemies, telling them of our arrival at this inn.’
‘They could not possibly see anything strange in a party of merchants... No, it is curiosity, nothing more. Come, let us eat in peace.’
‘Eat certainly,’ said Ferdinand, ‘but there is too much at stake to linger. Doubtless I have betrayed us by my manners. Let us hasten away from this place. We will pass the night out of doors or in some inn which we feel will be quite safe... but not here.’
They ate hurriedly and in silence, and one of their party called in the innkeeper and settled the account.
They left the inn and rode on, but when they had gone some distance they began to laugh at their fears. The innkeeper and his servants were oafs who would know nothing of the coming of the heir of Aragon into Castile, and they had allowed themselves to be frightened without cause.
‘Spend the night out of doors!’ cried Ferdinand. ‘Certainly not. We will find an inn and have a good night’s sleep there.’
The man who had paid the innkeeper gave a sudden cry of dismay.
He had pulled up his mule, and the others pulled up with him.
‘The purse,’ he said, ‘I must have left it on the dining table!’
They were all dismayed, for the purse contained the money to defray their expenses during the journey.
‘I must go back for it,’ he said.
There was a short silence.
Then Ferdinand said: ‘What if they did suspect? What if they make you their prisoner? No. We are well away from that inn. We will go on, without money. Castile is too big a prize to be lost for the sake of a few enriques.’
It was far into the night when they arrived outside the castle of the Count of Treviño.
Inside the castle there was tension.
The Count had given his instructions. ‘We must be prepared for an attack by our enemies. They know that we are for Isabella and that we shall offer shelter to the Prince of Aragon when he passes on his way to Valladolid. It may well be that the King’s men will attempt to storm the castle and take possession of it so that they, not we, will be here when Ferdinand arrives. Therefore keep watch. Let no one enter. Guard well the drawbridge and be ready on the battlements with your missiles.’