So she stood impatiently waiting for what the priest had to say to her.
‘Your Highness,’ he began, ‘I have received a letter from the Queen in which she tells me this tragic news which she also imparts to you. The Queen will be very sad.’
Juana said nothing; she was not even thinking of the priest nor of her mother. She was seeing Philip’s fair flushed face, listening to her while she told him the news. She would throw herself into his arms, and he would be so pleased with her that he would forget all those big flaxen-haired women who seemed to give him so much pleasure. He would give all his attention to her.
‘I thought,’ said Fray Matienzo, ‘that you might wish to pray with me for comfort.’
Juana looked bewildered. ‘I do not wish to pray,’ she said. ‘I must go at once. I have something important to do.’
The priest laid a hand on her arm.
‘The Queen, your mother, asks me questions about you.’
‘Then pray answer them,’ she retorted.
‘I fear they might cause her pain if I told her the truth.’
‘What’s this?’ said Juana half-heartedly.
‘If I told her that you did not worship as frequently as you did in Spain, if I told her that you did not go to confession …’
‘I do these things as frequently as my husband does.’
‘That will not serve you as an excuse before God or your mother.’
Juana snapped her fingers; frenzied lights were beginning to show in her eyes. He was detaining her against her will; he was denying her her pleasure. What if Philip heard this news from others before she herself could impart it?
She threw off the priest’s detaining hand.
‘Go your way,’ she said angrily, ‘and let me go mine.’
‘Highness, I implore you to dismiss the French priests who surround you now. Their ways are not ours.’
‘I prefer them,’ she answered.
‘Unless you listen to me, unless you mind your ways, I shall have no alternative but to write to your mother and tell her that you have no true piety.’
Juana snarled at him between her teeth: ‘Then do so. Do what you will, you interfering old fool. I am no longer of Spain. I belong to Flanders and Philip!’
She laughed wildly and ran from the room.
Those attendants who saw her looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. There was little ceremony at the Flemish Court, but no one behaved in quite the same manner as the Infanta Juana. She was more than wild, she was strange, they said.
She found Philip in his apartments. He was sprawled on a sofa, his handsome face flushed. One golden-haired woman sat on a stool at his feet; she was lying back against him, embracing his leg. Another woman, also with brilliant flaxen hair, was fanning him. Someone was strumming on a lute, and men and women were dancing.
It was what Juana had seen many times before. If she could have had her way she would have taken one of those women by her flaxen hair, and have her bound and beaten. Then she would turn her attention to the other.
But she must calm herself. They might flaunt their long flaxen locks which fell over their big bare bosoms, but this was an occasion when she had something more to offer, and she was going to calm herself so thoroughly that she would not act foolishly this time.
She stood on the threshold of the room. No one took any notice of her. The dancers went on dancing and the women went on caressing Philip.
Juana screeched at the top of her voice: ‘Silence!’
This had the desired effect. There was complete stillness in the room and, before Philip could command them all to go on as they were, Juana cried: ‘I have important news from Spain.’
Philip rose to his feet without warning. The woman at his feet toppled off her stool and fell to the floor. Juana wanted to laugh exultantly as she watched her, but she controlled herself.
She waved the letter from her mother and, seeing it, Philip’s eyes gleamed with interest.
‘Leave me with my wife,’ he ordered.
Juana stood aside, watching them file out. She did not look at the two women. She was determined not to lose control of her emotions. She was about to have him to herself and she was happy.
‘What news?’ he demanded. ‘What news?’
She smiled at him with all the love she felt for him in her eyes. She knew that she was about to give him something which he greatly desired.
‘The child is stillborn,’ she said.
For a few seconds he did not speak. She watched the slow smile cross his face. Then he brought his clenched fist down on to his thigh. He took her cheek between his thumb and forefinger and pressed it so tightly that she wanted to scream with the joy of it. Whether it was pain or caresses he gave her she did not care. It was enough that his hands were upon her.
‘Show me the letter,’ he said gruffly, and snatched it from her.
She watched him reading it. It was all there, just as he wished it to be.
Then his hands fell to his sides and he began to laugh.
‘You are pleased, Philip?’ she said, as though to remind him that he owed this to her.
‘Oh yes, my love, I am pleased. Are you?’
‘I am always pleased when you are.’
‘That’s true, I know. Why Juana, do you see what this means?’
‘That my sister Isabella is now the heir of Spain.’
‘Your sister Isabella! They will not have a woman to rule them, I tell you.’
‘But my parents have no more sons. And Isabella is the eldest.’
‘I ought to beat you for not being born first, Juana.’ She laughed wildly. The thought did not displease her. She only asked that she should have his undivided attention. Instead he went on: ‘I will show you what an indulgent husband I am. You and I shall be Prince and Princess of Castile and, when your mother is no more, Castile will be ours.’
‘Philip, it should be as you say. But they will remind me that I am not the eldest.’
‘Do you think they will want the King of Portugal to rule Spain? Not they.’
‘Not they!’ she cried. And she wondered whether they would have the heir of Maximilian either. But this was not for her to say. Philip was pleased with her.
He took her in his arms and danced her round the room. She clung to him madly.
‘You will stay with me for a while?’ she pleaded. He put his head on one side and considered her. ‘Please, Philip! Please, Philip!’ she pleaded. ‘The two of us … alone …’
He nodded slowly and drew her to the couch.
Her passion still had the power to amuse him.
He would not stay long with her though, and was soon calling back his friends.
He made Juana stand on the couch beside him.
‘My friends,’ he said, ‘you have strangers among you, strangers of great importance. You must each come forward and pay homage to the Prince and Princess of Castile.’
It was a game similar to those they often played. Each person came to the couch and bowed low, kissing first the hand of Philip and then Juana’s.
Juana was so happy. She suddenly remembered with unusual vividness her mother’s apartment at Madrid, and she wondered what her parents and her sisters would say if they could see her and Philip now – clever Philip and his wife who had, without their consent, made themselves the heir and heiress of Castile.
She was so amused that she burst into laughter. The restraint of the last hour had been too much for her, and she could not stop laughing.
Philip looked at her coldly. He remembered her frenzied passion, her great desire for him – and he shuddered.
For the first time the thought occurred to him: I know why she is so strange. She is mad.
Chapter VII
THE QUEEN OF PORTUGAL
Ferdinand and Isabella were studying with dismay the letter they had received from Fray Matienzo. This was indeed disquieting news. Not only was Juana conducting herself in Flanders with the utmost impiety, but she had dared, with her husband, to assume the title of heir to Castile.