The Last Queen (52 page)

of suspicion that had plagued my final years with Philip returned to haunt me and I

could no more escape it than I had when he‟d been alive.

My bastard sister, Joanna, for one, became insupportable. She headed the gaggle

of sharp-nosed women who served me in my chambers, and where before I had put

up with them, relegating them to mindless chores like cleaning out my hearths and

seeing to my bed linens, now I found such an insidious way about them that I could

not abide to look at them. I suspected that one, if not all, acted as informants and

treated them with a remote formality, as I couldn‟t refuse their services completely

without bringing undue attention to myself.

Every night after my ladies retired, I spent the hours of moon-limned silence

pacing, my doubt consuming me. The shadow unfurled its ominous wings in my

mind, growing larger, more threatening, until I feared I might truly go mad this time,

as I could no longer tell if what I felt was real or the delusions of a woman who‟d

been betrayed too many times before.

I needed confirmation and finally succumbed to what I‟d struggled against ever

since my father had come to me. I called for Beatriz and handed her a sealed missive.

Find a courier to get this to the admiral,” I told her. “I must see him.”

――――――――――――

WE MADE ARRANGEMENTS TO MEET ON THE PLAINS IN A SECLUDED woodland,

where Fernandito often went hawking. We needed cover from prying eyes and I

waited until the hour of siesta to saddle up the mare I kept stabled for my ambles

about the grounds. I had taken to riding weekly for exercise, or so I told my ladies,

and therefore no one thought anything untoward when I went out with Beatriz on her

mule to partake of the afternoon.

A slight breeze rustled the clumps of oaks and linden; from the west drifted the

brackish smell of the Duero‟s tributaries. Winter had bleached the plains of color, but

clumps of wildflowers and startling yellow broom scrub had begun to rise with the

incoming heat of summer, and I found myself gazing over the landscape with

possessive tenderness.

At the woodland entrance, we dismounted and I left Beatriz with the horses while

I proceeded alone under a whispering canopy of leaves,

At first, I thought he had not come. All I heard was the susurration of the breeze

and the crackle of twigs underfoot. It reminded me of the time I had tried to escape

Philip by taking flight over the salt flats, and I closed my eyes for a moment against

the unbidden image of the anonymous gypsy woman who had died by his hand.

Then I saw him standing by his tethered horse in a sun-dappled clearing. I

unwound my shawl from my head. He turned. I almost ran to him, for in the saffron

light he seemed like a dark statue of hope. As he bowed over my hand, I said, “My

lord, you‟ve been missed.”

“As has Your Majesty.” His gentle regard was heartrending. I searched his deep-

set cobalt eyes, arresting in the sculpted pallor of his face, and saw reflected there

what I feared.

“My father,” I stated and my words felt like jagged glass. “He works against me.”

“Yes. I would have come sooner, but I feared he‟d have me stopped or followed.

When I received your missive, I took a circuitous route. He suspects me. He knows

you place your trust in me, and he‟d not have it so.”

He paused. “I must beg your forgiveness. I made a terrible mistake in bringing

him to you., When I learned of his intent, I lifted immediate protest. I told him you

were not there to approve such a decision and he forbade me to see or correspond

with you. He did not order my arrest because of who I am, but he and Cisneros will

find a way to deprive me. They move against anyone they perceive as a threat.”

“What― what is his intent?” I heard myself say.

He tilted his head. “Is it not why you sent for me? He came to you, did he not?”

“Yes, and he was very angry. I found out he was intercepting my letters, but then

he said he was having trouble with Villena. I told him to summon the Cortes for my

coronation.”

He didn‟t speak for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Of course, that explains

why he returned to Burgos in such a rage. He did not tell you he had taken a new

wife.”

“A wife?” I startled. “My father has wed again?

“He has. He‟s betrothed himself to none other than King Louis‟s niece, Germaine

de Foix. She is on her way to Aragón as we speak.”

Germaine de Foix. I recalled sloe eyes, a pursed mouth, and a sharp voice. I had

met her in France; she had tried to steer me past the hall, stalked my heels throughout

the visit. Why did my father seek to marry a woman born in a land he had despised

and fought against all his life.

And all of a sudden, it became horribly clear. A new wife, another queen in Spain.

“He wants a son,” I breathed. “An heir for Aragón.”

“”yes.” Anger colored the admiral‟s voice. “You are now his heir-apparent and

your sons after you, but if he sires a son on Germaine, then Aragón will no longer

need Castile. Rather, it could be the other way around, for with a French alliance to

enforce hi power over the
grandes
, they‟ll not dare revolt if they think Louis will send in a army to defend him.

“Like Philip,” I said, and my heart constricted in my chest. “He uses France to

bolster his position. But my sons are also his grandsons, heirs by my mother‟s will.” I

paused, met his somber gaze. “Dear God, he would go so far just to keep them from

the throne?”

“They carry Habsburg blood. He and Cisneros are determined they can never rule

here. And that is not all, my lady. When he announced his marriage to the lords, he

spoke of one for you as well. It was then I lifted protest and gained his enmity.”

I struggled for composure, even as I felt a scream pulse inside me. “Do you know

who?”

He shook his head. “No, but whoever he is, it cannot be to your advantage. Your

Highness, he sees your sons, and therefore you, as threats. If you are our queen, then

your mother‟s succession must stand. In time, your son Charles will inherit. Your

father will fight against this to his last breath; he wants to bind Castile to him now,

and he has Cisneros‟s full approval.”

I turned away, the woodland darkening all around me. “I am being punished,” I

heard myself say aloud. “It is my punishment for what I did.”

The admiral set his hands on my shoulders, turned me back around to face him.

He looked terrible in his starkness, like a doomed knight from a childhood ghost tale.

And yet he had never seemed more beautiful to me than in that moment when he

said, “These are the ambitions of men. They are to blame, not you. You‟ve done no

wrong.”

“You do not understand,” I whispered. “I killed Philip. I poisoned him.”

I saw comprehension dawn in his eyes. He reached for my hands, looked into my

eyes as he said passionately. “You did what any queen would have done. You had no

sword or army to defend yourself with, and yet you vanquished your enemy. You are

indeed Isabel of Castile‟s daughter. She would have done the same to save her realm.

It is her legacy, alive in you.”

I could not see through my tears as he raised my chin and brought his lips to

mine, like a lover. “You must leave this place,” he said against my breath. “Take your

children and your trusted servants and make haste for Segovia. The Marquise de Moya

awaits you there. I will join you once I rally my retainers. With any luck, I can

convince some of the nobles to fight with us. We‟ll wage war on your father and win

Castile for you.”

I heard his words, felt them in my blood and my sinews; in that terrible moment, I

knew with a sudden, deep certainty what I had to do. It had been with me all this

time, the hour when I must face both my past and my future and decide my own

course. I had been a pawn blown by the vulgarities of fate for most of my life: an

innocent girl used for political alliance, a wife deceived and manipulated for her

crown. Now, at long last, I had the strength to be the woman I had always wanted to

be, the queen my mother had believed I could become.

“No,” I said. I drew back. “There can be no war. I forbid it.”

He went still. “If you do not declare war, he will win. You could face―”

“I know what I face. I‟ve known it and run from it from the day I was named heir

to this realm. I will not run anymore. Castile must come first. I‟ll not have blood spilt in my name.”

“My lady.” He gripped my hands again. “Your father will not stop until he has

what he wants. “No one can help you if you do not fight.”

“Who says I will not fight?” I said, and I gave him a tender smile. “You are right:

he will not stop, not unless I stop him. There isn‟t a place in all of Spain to shelter me.

Wherever I flee he will follow. He‟ll endanger the lives of those who love me,

including my children. And I will not risk my children, even for my throne.”

“If you want to survive, there is no other way! Please, my lady, I beg you.”

“No,” I said again and I took my hands from his, leaving a hollow inside me.

“Castile is my birthright, my legacy. No one and nothing will take it from me. I must

look my father in the eye and show him that I am not only his daughter but also the

daughter of Isabel of Castile.”

I saw him hesitate, his mouth tightening. Then he dropped to his knees before me

and I heard him say in a broken voice, “Your Majesty need only send for me and I

shall be by your side.”

I set my hands on his head, let the pain of this final loss move through me. I

whispered, “Go not, my lord. Save yourself and those who rely on you.”

I did not touch him again. I pulled my shawl about my head and I walked away,

back through the trees to Beatriz and the horses, back to Arcos and the fate that I had

decreed for myself.

Though I did not look back, I knew he was still there, watching me.

――――――――――――

I RETURNED TO THE HOUSE, evading Joanna and my other women. Once I

reached my room, I asked for Lopez to come with his paper and quill. Beatriz stood

pale-faced at my side and I dictated my summons. I pressed my signet ring into the

wax and told Lopez, “You will deliver it to him personally. Tell him I will await him

here.”

His mouth trembling as he held back his tears, my secretary bowed low.

I turned to Beatriz. She met my eyes and in her solemn gaze, I saw she would

have gone to the ends of the earth for me, if I asked it. I embraced her, holding her

close.

I then stole into my daughter‟s room. She slept amid tousled sheets, her gold

ringlets disheveled, a sheen of afternoon sweat on her brow. I had to press my hands

to my mouth to stop myself from sobbing aloud. she was still so innocent, so

unknowing of the world‟s incomprehensible cruelty. Who would tell her of me? Who

would tell her the truth? What did the future hold for these children of mine, caught

up in the maelstrom that was my life?

I bowed over her, inhaling her sweet scent. My lips grazed her cheeks. For her, I

must do this; for her, and for Fernandito; for Charles, Eleanor, Mary and Isabella.

They too were my legacy. My blood ran in their veins as surely as Philip‟s. There

would be time later for anguish. For now, I must protect them and give them the

peace I had rarely known.

Come what may, my children must survive.

――――――――――――

THEY ARRIVED FOUR DAYS LATER, at dawn. One minute the house seemed empty,

the servants just awakening to start their daily business; the next, there was a

commotion in the hall, a banging of doors and the tromping of footsteps coming up

the staircase.

I had been awake most of the night. Beatriz set my coif on my head and kissed my

hands. I set a hand to her cheek for a moment before I walked out into the corridor.

Soraya was with Catalina and Doña Josefa with my son.

The lords stood below the entranceway. I recognized the one-eyed constable,

sulfuric Villena, and sweaty Benavente. They paused, returning my stare and then they

bowed in unison, as if it were a normal occurrence for them to be here unannounced

at daybreak.

Moments later, my father entered, his riding-cape flaring behind me. He looked

up at me.

“Papá,” I said calmly. I descended the stairs. “I‟ve been expecting you.” I leaned

to kiss him on his cheek. “Shall we repair to the
sala?
You must be thirsty.”

He evaded my eyes, gesturing with his hand. The lords retreated.

I lead him into the hall. A bleary-eyed chambermaid hastened in with a decanter

and set it on the table. I poured a goblet, turned to him. He took it, not meeting my

eyes.

There still is time, I told myself. He has come with only a few of his men. I saw

no guards. If he meant ill on me, he would not have come like this. I resisted a sudden

laugh.

“
Hija,
” He finally said, and he motioned to a chair, “you should sit. I bring

important news.”

My heart started to pound. I made myself go sit, as I had so many times before as

a child.

He stood silent, looking at me. He lifted his goblet as if to sip, then went and set it

aside on the table. “I have come to you,” he began, and he stopped. He cleared his