He saw a young woman somewhat tall, with a complexion as fair as his own, and bright hair with a gleam of red in it which was enchanting. And what pleased him most was the gentle manner, the almost mild expression in the blue eyes.
Charming Isabella, so suitable, so young and – he believed – so malleable.
Ferdinand, in his swaggering youth, told himself that he would very soon be master of Castile, Leon – and Isabella.
‘I welcome you with all my heart,’ said Isabella. ‘Castile and Leon welcome you. We have long awaited your coming.’
Ferdinand, who had retained her hand, with a swift gesture pressed an impassioned kiss upon it which brought a faint colour into Isabella’s cheeks and a shine to her eyes. ‘I would,’ he said, ‘that I had come months ago... years ago...’
‘Suffice it that you are here. I pray you sit with me.’
Together they went to the two ornate chairs which had been set side by side like two thrones.
‘You have had a hazardous journey,’ said Isabella. And when he told her of his adventures at the inn and at the Count of Treviño’s castle, Isabella turned pale at the thought of what could so easily have happened to him.
‘It is of no importance,’ Ferdinand murmured. ‘You do not know it, but I have often with my father faced death in battle.’
‘But now you are safely here,’ said Isabella; and there was a note of exultation in her voice. She believed that this marriage had certainly been made in Heaven and that nothing on Earth could prevent its taking place.
The Archbishop, who was standing by listening to this conversation, was growing a little impatient.
‘The marriage,’ he reminded them, ‘is not yet an accomplished fact. Our enemies will, even now, do all in their power to prevent it. It must take place at the earliest possible moment, and I suggest four days hence.’
Ferdinand threw a passionate glance at Isabella who, taken off her guard by the prospect of such an early date for their marriage, returned it.
‘There should,’ went on the Archbishop, ‘be a solemn betrothal immediately, and it is for this reason that Your Highness has ridden to Valladolid at this late hour.’
‘Then,’ said Isabella, ‘let us proceed with all speed.’
The Archbishop then solemnly declared them betrothed, and there, before those very few witnesses, Ferdinand and Isabella ceremoniously joined hands.
So shall it be until death shall part us, Isabella told herself; and she was aware of a greater happiness than she had hitherto known.
There was great activity in the house of Juan de Vivero. Here was to be celebrated the marriage of the heiress of Castile to the heir of Aragon.
There was need of the utmost haste. There was so little time in which to prepare; and at any moment they might expect interruption by the King’s soldiers, come to prevent the marriage which the Marquis of Villena had determined should not take place.
Isabella was alternatively in a state of bliss and anxiety.
Four days seemed like four weeks; and every commotion in the courtyard, any shout from below, set her trembling with fear.
Apart from the fact that her half-brother’s men might arrive at any moment, there were other causes for anxiety. She had very little money; Ferdinand had none at all. How could they celebrate a marriage without money?
And this was the most important marriage in Spain.
Celebration there must be, but how could they decorate the house, how could they provide a banquet without money?
There was only one thing to be done; they must borrow. It was not a very happy start, thought Isabella.
She could not discuss this with Ferdinand, for after that midnight meeting and solemn betrothal he had gone back to Dueñas, there to await the day of his entry into Valladolid as bridegroom at the public ceremony.
But the money was found. That had not been so difficult after all.
Why, reasoned many to whom the problem was put, this is the heiress of Castile and Leon. One day she will be Queen, and then she will not forget those who provided the money for her wedding.
But there was a matter which gave even greater concern.
There was a degree of consanguinity between Isabella and Ferdinand, and therefore, before they could marry, it was necessary to procure a dispensation from the Pope.
Since this had not yet come to her, Isabella appealed to the Archbishop of Toledo.
‘I fear,’ she said, ‘that we must postpone the marriage.’
‘Postpone the marriage!’ cried the Archbishop in amazement. ‘That is impossible. If we postpone it, I can say with certainty it will never take place. Your brother and my nephew will take good care that we never again get as near to it as we are now.’
‘There is one thing of the utmost importance which you have forgotten. The dispensation has not yet come from the Pope.’
The Archbishop was genuinely alarmed, but he gave no sign of this. He wondered whether it was possible to get a dispensation from the Pope, who was the friend of Henry and Villena.
‘Would you marry Ferdinand if the Pope refused the dispensation?’ asked the Archbishop cautiously.
‘It would be impossible,’ replied Isabella. ‘How could I marry without it?’
‘The marriage would be binding.’
‘We should be censured by Holy Church. How could we hope for a successful marriage if we began it by opposing the ecclesiastical canons?’
The Archbishop paused. Here was a new light on Isabella’s character. Devout, he had always known her to be. Well, others were devout – inasmuch as they attended Mass regularly and did not ignore the tenets of the Church. But who would allow the rules of the Church to come between them and their desires? Isabella would, it seemed.
The Archbishop made a quick decision.
‘Have no fear,’ he said. ‘We shall have the dispensation in good time. I have made all concerned aware of the urgency.’
‘My good friend,’ murmured Isabella, ‘what should I do without you?’
The Archbishop returned her smile. He hoped she would remember those words and not seek to take his power from him and bestow it on Ferdinand.
In his private apartments the Archbishop was writing. He wrote slowly and with the utmost care.
Eventually he laid down his pen and studied what he had written.
It was a perfect dispensation. Isabella would never doubt that it had come from the Pope.
The Archbishop shrugged his shoulders.
There were times when bold men had to take matters into their own hands. He had to lead the heiress of Castile and Leon the way she must go; and that way was through marriage with Ferdinand. And if Isabella was too scrupulous a woman of the Church, there must be times when a little deceit must be employed.
The Archbishop rolled up the scroll and went to Isabella’s apartments.
‘I have great joy in telling Your Highness that the dispensation has arrived.’
‘Oh, how happy that makes me!’ Isabella held out a hand and the Archbishop handed her the scroll.
He watched her anxiously while she glanced at it; but she was too happy to study it with very much attention.
He took it from her and rolled it up.
‘Is it not wonderful,’ she said, ‘how one by one obstacles are removed from our paths. I was afraid even at this late hour that something would happen to prevent the marriage. The Holy Father is very much the friend of my brother and the Marquis, and I was filled with fear that he might refuse the dispensation. But God has moved his heart – and we have it. It often seems to me that it is the Divine will that Ferdinand and I should marry, for it would appear that whenever we are faced with what might be insuperable obstacles, miracles happen.’