Katharine, The Virgin Widow - Plaidy Jean - Страница 36
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She spoke coldly to him. “I see that my position has changed very little for the better. Sometimes I wonder whether you work more for the King of England than for the King of Spain.”
Puebla was deeply wounded. How could she understand the intricacies of state policies? How could she realize the dangerous and difficult game he must continually play?
It seemed to be his fate in life to be misunderstood, to be scorned by those to whom he gave his services.
Katharine was thinking as he left her: Was Dona Elvira really spying for her brother, or did Puebla, with diabolical cunning, contrive the whole situation in order to have Elvira removed? Was the King of England behind the scheme? Did he wish to close Durham House, to bring her to Court where many might gloat over her poverty and the indignity of her position? Whom could one trust?
* * *
THERE WAS NEWS from Spain which shocked Katharine.
Her father was proposing to marry again.
Katharine was so disturbed that she shut herself in her apartments and told her maids of honor that she must be left alone. Kings remarried speedily when they lost their Queens; she knew that. It was a continual need of Kings to get heirs. But this seemed different. There would be someone to take the place of Isabella of Castile, and in Katharine’s eyes this was sacrilege.
Moreover her father proposed to marry a young girl of eighteen.
She was very beautiful, rumor said; and that hurt Katharine even more. She thought of her father, showering caresses on a beautiful young girl, and she pictured her mother, looking down from Heaven in sorrow.
Nonsense! she admonished herself. It is a political marriage.
It was true that Ferdinand was anxious to make an alliance with the French King, Louis XII. The situation had changed. The French had been driven from Naples, for a too easy success had made them careless; and Ferdinand had Gonsalvo Cordova, the Great Captain, to fight for him.
In the circumstances, Louis was delighted to see the trouble between Ferdinand and his son-in-law Philip. Philip or his son Charles was going to be the most powerful man in Europe. There would be Maximilian’s dominions to come to him, including Austria, Flanders and Burgundy; but that was not all; for from Juana would come the united crowns of Spain, and in addition all the overseas dependencies.
To Louis alliance with Ferdinand seemed advisable, even though Louis’ daughter had been promised to young Charles.
Louis laid down his conditions. He would relinquish his claim to Naples, which he would give to the young bride as her dowry. Germaine de Foix was the daughter of Jean de Foix, Viscount of Narbonne; this viscount’s mother had been Leonora, Queen of Navarre, half sister to Ferdinand, and she had poisoned her sister Blanche to win the Crown of Navarre. The Viscount had married one of the sisters of Louis XII, so Germaine was therefore not only related to Louis but to Ferdinand.
Ferdinand also agreed to pay Louis a million gold ducats during the course of the following ten years to compensate Louis for what he had lost in the Naples campaign.
This was the news which came to Katharine and which seemed to her such an insult to her mother. It was not merely that her father had taken a young wife in her mother’s place, but, as she realized, this marriage could result in destroying that policy for which Isabella had worked during the whole of her reign: the unity of Spain. It had been Isabella’s delight that when she married Ferdinand she united Castile and Aragon; and when together they drove the Moors from the kingdom of Granada they had made a united Spain. But if this new marriage were fruitful, if Germaine bore Ferdinand a son, that son would be the heir of Aragon, while Juana and her heirs—and she already had sons—would be rulers of Castile. Thus by his selfish action—perhaps to have a beautiful young wife, but more likely to grasp the somewhat empty title of King of Naples—Ferdinand was showing his indifference to the lifelong wishes of Isabella.
This treaty between Ferdinand and Louis had already been signed in Blois.
Katharine, no longer a child, no longer ignorant of state politics and the overwhelming greed and pride of ambitious men and women, wept afresh for her mother.
* * *
IT WAS BLEAK JANUARY and there were storms all along the coast; the wind swept up the Thames and not even the great fires which blazed in Windsor Castle could keep out the cold. Katharine sat huddled about the fire with some of her maids of honor. They were very gloomy and rarely ceased talking of their desire to return to Spain.
Francesca de Carceres, who was impulsive and never could control her tongue, blamed the various members of Katharine’s household in turn. First she blamed Puebla, then Juan de Cuero. They were all in league with the King of England, she declared, and their desire was to keep them all in this island until they grew crippled with rheumatism.
Maria de Rojas was sunk in gloom. As she had mourned for her Englishman, now she mourned for Inigo Manrique.
Katharine was dipping into her store of plate and jewels, and often wondered what would happen when the time came for the remainder of them to be valued.
There was no news from Spain. Ferdinand rarely had time to write to his daughter. He was too busy, she supposed bitterly, thinking of his new marriage which would shortly take place.
As they sat thus they heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs and shouts from without, and Francesca ran to the window.
“There is some excitement below,” she said. “It is evidently important news.”
“News from home?” asked Katharine quickly.
“No,” answered Francesca, as the others came to the window to stand beside her. “That is no Spanish courier.”
Katharine who had risen sat down listlessly.
“There is never news from Spain…never news that one wishes to hear.”
The other girls turned from the window, and Maria de Salinas said: “It must change soon. It cannot go on like this. Perhaps when there is a new King…”
“He will marry Her Highness,” cried Francesca.
Katharine shook her head. “No, he is promised to Marguerite of Angouleme.”
“Oh, he has been promised to so many,” Francesca said.
“That happens to most of us,” put in Maria de Rojas bitterly.
Katharine was silent; she was thinking of the Prince of Wales, whom she saw occasionally. It was a strange position; she did not know whether she was still affianced to him or not. It was true there had been a formal betrothal in the Bishop of Salisbury’s house, but ever since then there had been rumors of other brides who had been chosen for him.
He was growing up quickly, for he seemed much older than his years. When they were together she would often find his eyes fixed on her broodingly. It was a little disquieting; it made her wonder what the future would hold for her when the old King died and Henry VIII was King of England.
Someone was at the door, begging to be allowed to see the Infanta, and Inez de Venegas came bursting unceremoniously into the apartment. She was clearly excited.
“Highness,” she stammered. “There is great excitement below. Ships broken by the storm have sought refuge here in England.”
Francesca said impatiently: “That’s to be expected in such weather.”
“But these are the ships of Her Highness the Queen of Castile.”
Katharine had risen; she grew pale and then flushed scarlet.
“Juana…my sister…in England!”
“Highness, she is here…seeking refuge from the storm. Her fleet of ships has met with disaster on their way from Flanders to Spain. And she and her husband and their suite…”
Katharine clasped her hands across her breast; her heart was leaping with excitement.
Juana here…in England!
This was the happiest news she had heard for years.
* * *
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