Katharine, The Virgin Widow - Plaidy Jean - Страница 46

• Предыдущая
• 46/59
• Следующая

In view of Juana’s strange conduct on the way to Segovia Philip felt justified in putting guards outside her apartments, so that she was to some extent under supervision.

The Constable’s wife, who was the hostess to the party, expressed her concern that the Queen should be treated so, and as a result Philip ordered her to leave the palace.

This seemed the utmost arrogance, and the whisperings against the Queen’s consort intensified; but Philip cared little for this and laughed with Juan Manuel at the Castilians. He had the troops and they would enforce his wishes. He did not doubt that before long he would have Juana put right away finally and he himself would be accepted as ruler in very truth.

“In the meantime,” he said, “we should celebrate our victories, my dear Juan. The Alcazar of Segovia has fallen into our hands; and now we might say that the same has happened to this palace of Burgos. Once we have rid ourselves of that interfering woman the place is ours. Do you not think that that is worthy of a little celebration?”

“Very worthy, Highness,” agreed Juan.

“Then see to it. Arrange a banquet, a ball; and I will show these Spaniards how the Flemings can beat them at all sport.”

“It shall be done.”

While they talked together a page arrived to tell Philip that an envoy from Ferdinand had arrived at Burgos.

“Let him be brought to me,” said Philip; and when the page had gone he smiled at Juan Manuel.

“What dispatches are these my worthy father-in-law sees fit to send me, I wonder?”

“Oh, there is nothing to fear from him. The old lion has had his teeth drawn. He will find it a different matter being merely King of Aragon instead of Spain.”

“My mother-in-law kept the fellow in his place. She must have been a strong-minded woman.”

Juan Manuel looked serious for a moment. When he remembered the great Queen Isabella he could not help wondering what she would say if she could see him now, a traitor to her husband.

He shrugged aside the thought; Ferdinand’s conduct would not have pleased her either, he reflected. It seemed to him that if the great Queen could come alive again she would be so saddened by her husband’s conduct that she would have little thought to spare for Juan Manuel.

Philip was his master now, and it was Philip whose interests were his own.

“It will be interesting to see what dispatches this fellow has brought,” went on Philip. “You may remain, and we will study them together.”

A few minutes later the page returned with Ferdinand’s envoy.

“Don Luis Ferrer,” he announced.

And Ferdinand’s envoy was bowing before the man who was certain that before long he would be sole ruler of Castile.

* * *

THE CELEBRATIONS were magnificent. Juan Manuel had arranged them to appeal to his master. He wished to show his gratitude for all the benefits which had come his way since he had entered Philip’s service; he wished him to know that he would continue to lay all his skill at his master’s feet.

Juana was allowed to partake in the celebrations.

Juan had said: “It would be unwise at this stage to shut her away completely. Wait until more fortresses have come into our hands.”

“Rest assured,” said Philip, “there will be others as important as Segovia and Burgos.”

“Let her show the people that she is truly mad. Then they cannot complain.”

Philip agreed with this. But he had made up his mind that he was going to put her away in as complete a seclusion as that in which her grandmother had passed the last years of her life.

Juana joined in the feasting. There were days when she was very gay, and others when she was overcome by her melancholy. There were times when she calmly received the homage of all; there were others when she shut herself away in her apartments.

She called her father’s envoy, Luis Ferrer, to her and demanded to hear news of her father, of whether he spoke often of her or any of her sisters; of how he lived with his new wife.

Luis Ferrer was eager to talk to her of Ferdinand, and Manuel was afraid that he was trying to bring about a meeting between father and daughter which, he was sure, could only result in harm to Philip.

“We should watch this Luis Ferrer,” he said to Philip. “It is my belief that the fellow is here for no good purpose.”

The peak of the celebrations was planned to take place on a warm September day. There was to be a banquet more lavish than any of those of the last few days, and afterwards there would be ball games, because Philip excelled at these and he was very eager to show the Castilians what he called his superior Flemish skill.

Juana was present at the banquet. She had rarely seen her husband so gay, and she thought how beautiful he was and how in comparison all others—men and women—seemed ugly and lacking in grace.

Beside her at the table was Luis Ferrer, and she was glad of this because she knew that it disturbed Philip to see them together, and that meant that, while she was with Ferrer, at least Philip was thinking of her.

As soon as the banquet was over the ball games began and here Philip certainly did excel, for he beat all his opponents. Yet how could one be sure, Juana wondered, whether his opponents felt it would be wise to let him win? Nevertheless he played with great skill and she was momentarily happy to see him flushed and taking a boyish pride in his achievements.

He was very hot when the game was won, and he called for a drink. No one was quite sure afterwards who gave him that drink; one thing was certain: he drank deep.

During the dancing and pageantry which followed, several people noticed that he seemed a little tired. But then it had been a strenuous ball game.

When she retired that night Juana lay in her bed hoping he would come to her, although she knew he would not; in four months’ time she could expect the birth of a child, so he would not come—unless of course he wished to placate her, which he seemed nowadays inclined to do at certain times.

There in the quiet of her apartment Juana began to think of the sadness of her life and to ask herself if there was not a curse on the House of Spain. She had heard such a legend at the time of her sister’s death. Her brother, Juan, was dead and his heir had been still-born; her sister, Isabella, had died in childbed and her child had followed her to the grave. That left Juana, Maria and Catalina. Maria might be happy in Portugal, but Catalina certainly was not so in England. As for herself surely none was as unhappy as she was.

She thought sadly of Catalina’s woes. Her sister had talked of them.

“But I did not listen,” whispered Juana. “I could only think of my own miseries which I know are far greater than hers. For what greater tragedy could befall a woman than to have a husband whom she adores with a passionate intensity which borders on madness, but who cares so little for her that he is planning to declare her mad and put her from him?”

There were strange noises in the palace tonight. She could hear the sound of footsteps and whispering voices.

“Shall I wake the Queen?”

“She should know.”

“She would want to be with him.”

Juana rose from her bed and wrapped a robe about her.

“Who is there?” she called. “Who is whispering there?”

One of her women came in, looking startled.

“The doctors have sent word, Highness…” she began.

“Doctors!” cried Juana. “Word of what?”

“That His Highness is in a fever and a delirium. They are bleeding him now. Would Your Highness care to go to his bedside?”

Juana did not wait to answer; she sped through the apartments to those of Philip.

He was lying on his bed, his fair hair made darker with sweat, and his beautiful blue eyes looked blankly at her. He was murmuring, but none understood what he said.

She knelt by the bed and cried: “Philip, my dearest, what has happened?”

• Предыдущая
• 46/59
• Следующая