Spain for the Sovereigns - Plaidy Jean - Страница 61
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In the alcazaba Ferdinand rubbed his hands together. He could scarcely speak, so excited was he. He could only contemplate the treasures of this beautiful city which were now his . . . all his.
Then a certain fear came to him. How could he be sure that all the treasure would be handed to him? These Arabs were a cunning people. Might they not hide their most precious jewels, their richest treasures, hoping to preserve them for themselves?
It was an alarming thought. Yet how could he be sure that this would not happen?
Isabella was calculating what they would do with the slaves.
‘We shall be able to redeem some of our own people,’ she told Ferdinand.
Ferdinand was not enthusiastic. He was thinking of selling the slaves. They would not help to fill the treasury, he pointed out.
But Isabella was determined. ‘We must not forget those of our people who have been taken into slavery. I propose that we send one-third of the people of Malaga into Africa in exchange for an equal number of our people held there as slaves.’
‘And sell the rest,’ said Ferdinand quickly.
‘We might sell another third,’ Isabella replied. ‘This should bring us a goodly sum which will be very useful for prosecuting the war.’
‘And the remainder?’
‘We must not forget the custom. We should send some to our friends. Do not forget that those who have worked with us and have helped us to win this great victory will expect some reward. The Pope should be presented with some, so should the Queen of Naples. And we must not forget that we hope for this marriage between Isabella and Alonso; so I would send some of the most beautiful of the girls to the Queen of Portugal.’
‘So,’ said Ferdinand, somewhat disgruntled, ‘we shall only sell a third of them for our own benefit.’
But what was really worrying him was the thought that he could not be sure that all the treasures of Malaga would come to him, and he feared that some might be secreted away and he not know of their existence.
Hope suddenly sprang up in the desolate town of Malaga.
‘There is a chance to regain our freedom!’ The words were passed through the streets from mouth to mouth. A chance to evade this most dreadful of fates.
King Ferdinand had decreed that if they could pay a large enough ransom he would sell them their freedom.
And the amount demanded?
It was a sum of such a size that it seemed impossible that they could raise it. Yet every man, woman and child in Malaga must help to do so.
Nothing must be held back. Everything must be poured into the great fund which was to buy freedom for the people of Malaga.
The fund grew big, but it was still short of the figure demanded by Ferdinand.
In the streets the people called to each other: ‘Hold nothing back. Think of what depends upon it.’
And the fund grew until it contained every treasure, great and small, for all agreed that no price was too great to pay for freedom.
Ferdinand received the treasure.
‘Oh, great Christian King,’ he was implored, ‘this is not the large sum you asked. It falls a little short. We pray you accept it, and out of your magnanimity grant us our freedom.’
Ferdinand smiled and accepted the treasure.
‘Alas,’ he said, ‘it is not the figure I demanded. I am a man who keeps his word. This is not enough to buy freedom for the people of Malaga.’
When he had dismissed the Arabs he laughed aloud.
Thus he had made sure that the people of Malaga would hold nothing back from him. Thus he had defeated them utterly and completely. He had all their wealth, and still they had not regained their freedom.
The capture of Malaga was a resounding victory.
There remained the last stronghold: Granada.
MARRIAGE OF AN INFANTA
The Queen crept into the bedchamber of her daughter, the Infanta Isabella. As she had expected, the girl was lying on her bed, her eyes wide open, staring into space.
‘My dearest child,’ said the Queen, ‘you must not be unhappy.’
‘But to go far away from you all,’ murmured the Infanta.
‘It is not so very far.’
‘It is too far,’ said the girl.
‘You are nineteen years old, my daughter. That is no longer young.’
Young Isabella shivered. ‘If I could only stay with you!’
The Queen shook her head. She was thinking how happy she would be if it were possible to find a husband for her eldest daughter here at the Court, and if they might enjoy the preparations for marriage together; if after the wedding, she, the mother, might be beside her daughter, advising, helping, sharing.
It was a foolish speculation, and they should be rejoicing. For years Portugal had represented a menace. It would always be so while La Beltraneja lived. And John, the King, had allowed her to live outside her convent! In Portugal there had been times when La Beltraneja had been known as Her Highness the Queen.
This could have been a cause for war. She and Ferdinand might have deemed it wise to make war on Portugal, had they not been so busily engaged elsewhere.
And now John saw the advantages of a match between his son Alonso and the Infanta of Castile. If this marriage took place he would no longer allow La Beltraneja to be called Her Highness the Queen, he would stop speculating as to whether it would be possible to put her back on the throne of Castile, and instead send her back to her convent.
‘Oh, my darling,’ said the Queen, taking her daughter’s limp hand and raising it to her lips, ‘with this marriage you are bringing great good to your country. Does that not comfort you?’
‘Yes, dear mother,’ said the Infanta faintly. ‘It brings me comfort.’
Then Isabella kissed her daughter’s forehead and crept away.
It was April in Seville and there was fiesta in the streets.
The people had gathered to watch the coming and going of great personages. These were the streets which so frequently saw the grim processions of Inquisitors, and condemned men in their yellow sanbenitos, making their way to the Cathedral and the fields of Tablada. Now here was a different sort of entertainment; and the people threw themselves into it with an almost frenzied joy.
Their Infanta Isabella was to be married to the heir of Portugal. There were to be feasts and banquets, bullfights and dancing. This was a glorious occasion which would not end in death.
Tents had been set up along the banks of the Guadalquivir for the tourneys which were to take place. The buildings were decorated with flags and cloth of gold. The people had grown accustomed to seeing groups of horsemen magnificently caparisoned – the members of their royal family and that of Portugal.
They saw their King distinguish himself in the tournaments, and they shouted themselves hoarse in approval of the stalwart Ferdinand, who had recently won such resounding victories over the Moors and was even now preparing for what he hoped would be the final blow.
And there was the Queen, always gracious, always serene; and the people remembered that she had brought law and order to a state where it had been unsafe for travellers to ride out on their journeys. She had also brought this new Inquisition. But this was a time of rejoicing. They were determined to forget all that was unpleasant.
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