Yes, thought Isabella. You who are unsound of mind are sound enough of body. It is your children who are born strong, and those of darling Juan and my dearest Isabella who die.
She went to her daughter and put her arm about her. Juana’s body was quivering with excitement; and Isabella knew that she was not thinking of the child she would have, but of the women who would be Philip’s companions while she was incapacitated.
By December of that year Juana, six months pregnant, was growing large. Philip shuddered with distaste when he looked at her, and made no secret of his boredom.
He told her casually one day: ‘I am leaving for Flanders next week.’
‘For Flanders!’ Juana tried to imagine herself in her condition making that long winter journey. ‘But … how could I travel?’
‘I did not say you. I said I was going.’
‘Philip! You would leave me!’
‘Oh come, you are in good hands. Your sainted mother wishes to watch over you when your child is born. She does not trust us in Flanders, you know.’
‘Philip, wait until the child is born, then we will go together.’
‘It’s due in March. By God, do you expect me to stay in this place three more months? Then it will be another month or more before you are ready to leave. Four months in Spain! You couldn’t condemn me to that. I thought you loved me.’
‘With all my heart and soul I do.’
‘Then do not make trouble.’
‘I would give you everything I had to give.’
‘No need to part with that, my dear. All you have to do is say a pleasant goodbye to me next week. That is what I want from you.’
‘Oh Philip … Philip …’ She sank to her knees and embraced his legs. He threw her off, and she lay sprawling on the floor, grotesque in her condition.
He closed his eyes so that he need not look at her, and hurried away.
Nothing could make him change his mind. Isabella had begged him to stay with a humility which was rare with her, but he was adamant. His duty lay in Flanders, he declared.
He turned to Ferdinand. ‘I shall return by way of France,’ he said.
‘Would that be wise?’ Ferdinand asked.
‘Most wise. The King of France is a friend of mine.’
While Isabella deplored his insolence, Ferdinand did not, because he could not stop wondering what advantage might accrue through this journey of his son-in-law’s into French territory.
‘It might be possible,’ said Ferdinand, ‘for you to negotiate with the King of France on my behalf.’
‘Nothing would please me better,’ answered Philip, secretly deciding that any negotiations he concluded with Louis were going to be to his own advantage rather than Ferdinand’s.
‘We could ask for certain concessions,’ said Ferdinand, ‘since Charles is affianced to Claude; and why should these two not be given the titles of King and Queen of Naples?’
‘It is an excellent idea,’ answered Philip. ‘In the meantime let the King of France appoint his own governor for his portion, and I will govern on behalf of yourself. As Charles’s father, how could you make a better choice?’
‘This needs a little consideration,’ said Ferdinand.
Philip smiled and answered:’ You have a week in which to make up your mind.’
Juana had sunk into deepest melancholy. All the wildness had gone out of her. This was a mood which Isabella had not seen before. Her daughter scarcely ate; Isabella did not believe she slept very much. She thought of nothing but the fact that Philip was returning to Flanders and leaving her in Spain.
January and February had passed, and Juana did not rouse herself from her dejection. She would sit for hours at her window, looking out as though she were hoping for the return of Philip.
She appeared to loathe all things Spanish, and when she did speak, which was rarely, it was to complain of her room, her surroundings, her attendants.
Isabella visited her often, but Juana had nothing to say, even to her mother. Oddly enough, in spite of her refusal to eat what was brought to her and the fact that she took scarcely any exercise, she remained healthy.
It was a cold March day when her pains began, and Isabella, who had demanded to be told as soon as this happened, was close at hand when the child was born.
Another boy, a healthy, lusty boy.
How strange life was. Here was another healthy child for this poor deluded girl.
Juana quickly recovered from the ordeal, and now that her body was light again she seemed a little happier.
When her parents came to her she held the child in her arms and declared that he was very like his father. ‘But I see my own father in him,’ she added. ‘We shall call him Ferdinand.’
Ferdinand was delighted with the boy. He seemed to be quite unaware of the strangeness of his daughter. She was capable of bearing sturdy sons – that was enough for him.
Chapter XVI
JUANA THE MAD
Isabella had hoped that when the child was born Juana would cease to fret for Philip and turn her interest to the baby. This was not so. Juana did not change. She scarcely looked at the child. Her one desire was to rejoin Philip.
‘You are not strong enough,’ said her mother. ‘We could never allow you to make the long journey in your present condition.’
‘What is he doing while I am not there?’ demanded Juana.
‘Much the same as he would do if you were there, I doubt not,’ replied Isabella grimly.
‘I must go,’ cried Juana.
‘Your father and I will not allow it until you are stronger.’
So Juana sank once more into melancholy. Sometimes for whole days she said nothing. At other times she could be heard shouting her resentment in her apartments.
Isabella gave instructions that she must be watched.
‘She so longs to rejoin her husband,’ she explained, ‘that she may attempt to leave. The King and I are determined that she must be fully recovered before she does so.’
A month after the birth of little Ferdinand, Philip in Lyons had made the treaty between the Kings of Spain and France; but it was clear that it meant very little and, as the armies moved in to take possession of their portions of the divided Kingdom of Naples, it became obvious that conflict was close.
It broke out later that year; and the minds of the Sovereigns were concentrated on the new war.
Isabella however contrived to spend as much time as possible with Juana. She was growing increasingly afraid of leaving her, for since the departure of Philip Juana’s affliction was becoming more and more apparent. Now it was no use pretending that she was normal. The Court was aware of her mental instability; in a very short time the rumours would be spreading throughout the country.
Juana had written many pleading letters to her husband. ‘They will not let me come to you,’ she told him. ‘It is for you to bid me come. Then they cannot stand in my way.’
It was on a November day when she received the letter from Philip. It was ungracious, but it was nevertheless an invitation to return to Flanders. If she thought it worth while making a sea journey at this time; or if she was ready to come through France, a country which was hostile to Spain, why should she not do so?
Juana read the letter and kissed it. Philip’s hand had touched the paper. That made it sacred in her mind.
She threw off her melancholy.
‘I am leaving,’ she cried. ‘I am leaving at once for Flanders.’
Her attendants, terrified of what she would do, sent word to the Queen of her new mood.