‘If you set out for Aranda, where I understand she is now, the purpose of your mission would be surmised; all would know that you proposed bringing her to me.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘Oh, but, Highness, I would not go as myself. I would go disguised.’
‘This is a mad scheme of yours, my dear lady,’ said Henry. ‘Think no more of it.’
‘But if I could bring her to you... in secret... you would receive her, Highness?’
‘I could not refuse to meet my sister. But have done.’
Beatriz bowed her head and changed the subject.
Henry then seemed contented; but he did not know that Beatriz had begun to form her plans.
Isabella was lonely in the palace at Aranda. She was thinking of Ferdinand and wondering how long their separation must last.
Sitting by a great fire stitching with one of her women, and periodically glancing up, she saw through the windows the snow fluttering down. The roads would be icy; and she shivered, wondering what the weather was like in Aragon.
She was working on a shirt. She had been true to her vow to make all the shirts which Ferdinand wore. It was a little jest between them.
‘Every shirt of yours must be stitched with my stitches,’ she had told him. ‘No other woman must make such a garment for you... only myself.’
Ferdinand was delighted. He was always deeply touched by such feminine gestures. Isabella sighed. Ferdinand loved her femininity more than her predilection for governing. He would rather see her occupied with stitching than with state affairs.
One of her women, who was seated in the window seat, called out that a peasant with a pack on her saddle-bow had ridden into the courtyard.
‘Poor woman, she looks so cold and hungry. I wonder if she has wares to sell’
Isabella laid aside her work and went to the window. She felt it her duty to take a great interest in all her subjects. She was teaching little Isabella to be considerate of all people. They might be her subjects one day, she reminded her; for if she and Ferdinand should have no sons, that little Isabella might be Queen of Castile.
‘Poor woman indeed!’ she said. ‘Go down, lest they turn her away. Have her brought in and fed. If she has goods to sell, perhaps she will have something that is needed in the house.’
Her woman went away to do her bidding, but she soon came back, consternation on her face.
‘The woman asks if she may see you, Highness,’ Isabella was told.
‘What does she want?’
‘She refused to say, Highness. She was very insistent. And, Highness, she does not speak like a peasant though she looks like one.’
Isabella sighed. ‘Tell her that I am engaged,’ she said. ‘But ask her business and then come and tell me what she says.’
Isabella paused, and held up a hand to stay her woman for she had heard a voice, protesting in loud tones, which held an unmistakable ring of authority. She knew that voice.
‘Go,’ she said, ‘and bring this woman to me... at once.’
In a few moments the woman was standing on the threshold of the room. She and Isabella looked at each other, and then Beatriz, throwing off her ragged cloak, held out her arms. This was no time for ceremony. Isabella ran to her and they embraced.
‘Beatriz! But why? To come like this!’
‘Could we be alone?’ asked Beatriz.
Isabella waved her women away.
‘It was the only way to come,’ Beatriz explained. ‘So I came thus... and alone. Had I come as myself, the news could have reached Villena. As it is, you shall come to Segovia, where the King now is, and until you have met and talked with him the meeting will be a secret. It is the only way.’
‘Henry has expressed a wish to see me?’
‘Henry will see you.’
‘Beatriz, what does this mean?’
‘We know, dearest Highness, that reconciliation between you and Henry would mean that the people of Castile could live without the daily threat of civil war.’
‘Henry knows this!’
‘He longs for peace. It will not be difficult to persuade him to it... if we can keep him from Villena.’
‘Beatriz, you are asking me to go to Henry. Do you remember how they tried to capture me, to imprison me? Do you remember what was done to Alfonso?’
‘I ask you to come to the Alcazar of Segovia. No harm could come to you there. Andres guards it... and I guard Andres.’
Isabella laughed.
‘You were always a forceful woman. Does Andres love you the less for it?’
Beatriz looked hard at her friend. ‘You, too, are strong,’ she said. ‘And Ferdinand, does he love you less for that?’
Beatriz noticed that a slight shadow crossed Isabella’s face as she said: ‘I do not know.’
Isabella rode into Segovia with the Archbishop of Toledo beside her.
Henry received her with warmth, and his eyes filled with tears as he embraced her. ‘You know, my dear sister, that all this strife is none of my making.’
‘I do know that, Henry,’ answered Isabella; ‘and the state of our country brings as much grief to me as it does to you.’
‘I long for peace.’ Henry said this with unaccustomed vehemence.
‘And I.’
‘Then, Isabella, why should we not have peace?’
‘Because there are jealous nobles who surround us... who jostle each other for power.’
‘But if we are friends, what else should matter?’
‘It is this affair of the succession, Henry. You know I am the true heiress of Castile. I am your half-sister... your only relation.’
‘But there is my daughter.’
‘You do not believe Joanna is that, Henry.’
‘Her mother swore it.’
‘You do not believe her, Henry.’
‘Who shall say? Who shall say?’
‘You see,’ said Isabella, ‘if you would but accept me as heir to the throne there would be no more strife. If you and I were friends and were seen together, how happy all would be in Castile and Leon.’
‘I long to see all happy.’
‘Then Henry, we could begin to right these wrongs; we could bring back law and order to the country. There is this senseless conflict as to who is the heir, when there are so many important reforms to be considered.’
‘I know. I know.’
The Archbishop came to them. He did not wait to be announced. He had assumed complete authority.
‘If you would walk through the city holding the bridle of the Princess’s palfrey, Highness, in an intimate manner, as brother to sister, it would give great joy to the people of Segovia.’
‘All I wish is to give them joy,’ Henry insisted.
The people of Segovia had vociferously expressed their delight at the sight of the King, walking through their streets and holding the bridle of his sister’s palfrey. Here was good news. The threat of civil war was over. The King had cast off the yoke of Villena; he was thinking for himself; he was surely going to accept Isabella as his heir.
When they returned to the Alcazar, the people gathered outside and shouted: ‘Castilla! Castilla! Castilla for Henry and Isabella!’
Henry, with tears in his eyes, saluted the people.
It was long since he had been so cheered.
Late that night Beatriz hurried to Isabella’s bedchamber.
Isabella had already retired.
‘Isabella,’ whispered Beatriz in her ear, ‘wake up. Someone has arrived who is waiting to see you.’
Isabella started up in bed. ‘What is this, Beatriz?’
‘Hush,’ said Beatriz. ‘The palace is sleeping.’
She then turned and beckoned, and Isabella saw a tall, familiar figure enter the apartment.