‘I forget?’
‘I would ask you to consult the Princess Isabella. She will tell you what she owes to my loyalty and advice.’
Ferdinand retorted: ‘You will find that I am not to be put in leading strings as has been the case with some sovereigns of Castile.’
The Archbishop bowed his head to hide his smouldering anger, and turned away to prevent an outburst which might have proved disastrous.
He muttered to himself: ‘Before you attempt to escape from leading strings, my young cockerel, make sure that you are a sovereign of Castile.’
Ferdinand went on angrily to Isabella’s apartment, where she was lying on her bed, her women about her.
Ferdinand stormed: ‘I have just left that insolent fellow. One would think he was King of Castile. He will have to learn a little humility if he is to hold his place.’
‘Ferdinand...’ said Isabella, and anxiety showed in her eyes. She held out her hand. ‘It would be wise, I think, to go cautiously. He is much older than we are. He is wise, and he has been loyal.’
‘I care not!’ blazed Ferdinand. ‘I would ask him to remember to whom he speaks.’
‘Nevertheless,’ replied Isabella, ‘our position is by no means stable.’
Some of that indignation which Ferdinand had felt towards the Archbishop was now directed towards Isabella. Was she telling him what he should do? She was only a woman, and he was her husband.
‘I think,’ began Ferdinand coolly, ‘that you may safely trust me to deal with such matters.’
But Isabella had cried out.
‘It is the pains, Highness,’ said one of the women, coming forward. ‘They grow more frequent now.’
Isabella lay in her bed, her child in her arms.
Ferdinand stood by the bed, smiling down at her.
‘A daughter, Ferdinand,’ she said. ‘It should have been a son.’
‘I would rather have this daughter than any son,’ declared Ferdinand in the first flush of parenthood.
‘Then I am completely happy.’
‘We shall have sons.’
‘Oh yes, we shall have sons.’
Ferdinand knelt by the bed in a sudden rush of emotion.
‘There is one thing only that matters, my love. You have come through this ordeal.’
Isabella touched his hair with her hand. ‘Did you doubt that I would?’
‘Loving you as I did, I must needs fear.’
‘No,’ said Isabella. ‘Have no fear in future, Ferdinand. For something within me tells me that you and I will have many children and that there are long useful years before us.’
‘Oh, Isabella, you put me to shame. You think always of your duty.’
‘What a happy woman I am when it is my duty to love and serve you... and Castile.’
He kissed her hand with mingling fervour and tenderness.
‘We shall call this little one Isabella,’ he said; ‘and we shall hope that she will resemble her mother.’
When King John of Aragon heard of Ferdinand’s quarrel with the Archbishop of Toledo he was disturbed.
He wrote immediately to Ferdinand.
‘Have a care, my son. You are unwise to offend a man of such influence. I advise you to placate him immediately, and in future act with great caution.’
But John knew Ferdinand. He was impulsive and too young perhaps for the position in which he found himself. He would find it very difficult to placate the Archbishop, and it might well be that the prelate was beginning to waver in his loyalties.
I must be kept informed of affairs in Castile, John told himself.
The situation was full of dangers. Could it be that the young couple did not notice this? Many great families were supporting the claims of La Beltraneja, and Castile was divided on this matter of the succession. What could be more alarming? And here was Ferdinand jeopardising the friendship of one of the most forceful and powerful of his supporters.
John himself was enjoying a little respite from his troubles.
The Duke of Lorraine, whom the Catalans had appointed as their ruler, had died and all his children were too young to take his place. Thus the Catalans were without a leader, and John saw his chance of settling their differences and restoring order; but the Catalans would not give in so easily. The result of their resistance was the rigorous blockade of Barcelona which eventually brought them to a mood for negotiations.
When John entered their city he was shocked by the terrible signs of famine which he saw, and being as eager for peace as the people of Barcelona themselves he went to the Palace and there swore to respect the constitution of Catalonia.
The ten-years-long civil war was over, and John felt as though the ghost of his first-born had at last been laid.
This peace was not achieved until the end of the year 1472, and during this time the situation in Castile had continued to give him cause for anxiety.
The daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand – little Isabella – was now two years old; poverty at the little Court at Dueñas was acute, and John was very anxious as to the fate of his son; he longed to have him with him, yet he realised the need for him to stay in Castile. Isabella had her adherents and John had heard that many of them had deserted the cause of the King and La Beltraneja when the Duke of Guienne had died in May of that year. At the same time the situation was alarming.
Then further conflict broke out in Aragon.
When John had borrowed money from Louis XI of France, Louis had taken as security the provinces of Roussillon and Cerdagne, the inhabitants of which now complained bitterly of their foreign masters and sent to John telling him that, if he would liberate them, they would very willingly become his subjects once more.
John immediately rallied to the cause, while Louis, incensed by what was happening, sent an army into Aragon.
The Archbishop of Toledo presented himself to Ferdinand and Isabella.
Ferdinand scarcely disguised the irritation the Archbishop aroused in him.
Ferdinand was worried and, because of this, so was Isabella. She had assured him that his father was the bravest of soldiers and the shrewdest of strategists, and he had no need to fear. But Ferdinand remembered the age of his father, and his uneasiness persisted. They were discussing the new turn of affairs in Aragon when the Archbishop was ushered in.
Carillo was secretly pleased with himself. He was seriously considering whether he would not abandon the cause of Isabella and join that of La Beltraneja. He felt that with the King and La Beltraneja there would be no interference in the conduct of affairs, except of course from his nephew the Marquis of Villena. But they understood each other; they were of a kind; the same blood ran in their veins; neither would interfere in the other’s province. He, Carillo, would be immeasurably useful to the other side if he changed now.
Yet he was not eager to change sides again; he had not his nephew’s easy conscience. Yet the need to lead was all-important. He was ready to support a failing cause, providing he might take the lead. He could not endure to be in a subordinate position, and since the coming of Ferdinand he had felt himself to be forced into one.
Now, as he stood before Ferdinand and Isabella, he expressed his deep concern regarding events in Aragon.
Ferdinand thanked him coolly. ‘My father is a seasoned warrior,’ he said. ‘I doubt not that he will be victorious.’
‘Yet the French are capable of throwing a powerful force into the field,’ answered the Archbishop.
Isabella looked alarmed and glanced at her husband, who had flushed and was beginning to grow angry.