Spain for the Sovereigns - Plaidy Jean - Страница 2
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‘Ah, yes,’ said Ferdinand, with a complacent smile. ‘Isabella was loth to lose me, but she is deeply conscious of duty, and when she heard of your need, she was certain that I should not fail you.’
John nodded. ‘And all is well . . . in Castile, my son?’
‘All is well, Father.’
‘And the child?’
‘Healthy and strong.’
‘I would your little Isabella had been a boy!’
‘There will be boys,’ said Ferdinand.
‘Indeed there will be. And I will say this, Ferdinand. When you have a son, may he be so like yourself that all will say: “Here is another Ferdinand come among us.” I cannot wish you better than that.’
‘Father, you think too highly of your son.’ But the young man’s expression belied the charge.
John shook his head. ‘King of Castile! And one day . . . perhaps not far distant, King of Aragon.’
‘For the second title I would be content to wait all my life,’ said Ferdinand. ‘As for the first . . . as yet it is little more than a courtesy title.’
‘So Isabella is the Queen and you the Consort . . . for a time . . . for a time. I doubt not that very soon you will have brought her to understanding.’
‘Mayhap,’ agreed Ferdinand. ‘It is regrettable that the Salic law is not in force in Castile as in Aragon.’
‘Then, my son, you would be undoubted King and Isabella your Consort. Castile should be yours through your grandfather and namesake but for the fact that females are not excluded from the Castilian throne. But Isabella, the female heir, is your wife, my dearest son, and I am sure that this little difficulty is only a temporary one.’
‘Isabella is very loving,’ Ferdinand replied with a smile.
‘There! Then soon all will be as we could wish.’
‘But let us talk of your affairs, Father. They are of greater moment, and it is for this purpose that I have come to you.’
King John looked grave. ‘As you know,’ he said, ‘during the revolt of the Catalans it was necessary for me to ask help of Louis of France. He gave it to me, but Louis, as you know, never gives something for nothing.’
‘I know that the provinces of Roussillon and Cerdagne were placed in his custody as security, and that now they have risen in revolt against this foreign yoke.’
‘And have called to me for succour. Alas, the Seigneur du Lude has now invaded Roussillon with ten thousand infantry and nine hundred lances. Moreover, he has brought supplies that will keep his armies happy for months. The civil war has been long. You know how it has drained the exchequer.’
‘We must raise money, Father, in some way.’
‘That is why I have called you. I want you to go to Saragossa and by some means raise the money for our needs. Defeat at the hands of France would be disastrous.’
Ferdinand was silent for a few seconds. ‘I am wondering,’ he said at length, ‘how it will be possible to wring the necessary funds from the estates of Aragon. How do matters stand in Saragossa?’
‘There is much lawlessness in Aragon.’
‘Even as in Castile,’ answered Ferdinand. ‘There has been such strife for so long that civil affairs are neglected and rogues and robbers spring up all around us.’
‘It would seem,’ John told him, ‘that a certain Ximenes Gordo has become King of Saragossa.’
‘How can that be?’
‘You know the family. It is a noble one. Ximenes Gordo has cast aside his nobility. He has taken municipal office and has put himself into a position of such influence that it is not easy, from this distance, to deal with him. All the important posts have been given to his friends and relations and those who offer a big enough bribe. He is a colourful rogue and has in some manner managed to win the popular esteem. He makes a travesty of justice and I have evidence that he is guilty of numerous crimes.’
‘His trial and execution should be ordered.’
‘My dear son, to do so might bring civil strife to Saragossa. I have too much on my hands. But if you are going to raise funds for our needs a great deal will depend on Ximenes Gordo.’
‘The King of Aragon dependent on a subject!’ cried Ferdinand. ‘That seems impossible.’
‘Does it not, my son. But I am in dire need, and far from Saragossa.’
Ferdinand smiled. ‘You must leave this matter to me, Father. I will go to Saragossa. You may depend upon it, I will find some means of raising the money you need.’
‘You will do it, I know,’ said John. ‘It is your destiny always to succeed.’
Ferdinand smiled complacently. ‘I shall set off without delay for Saragossa, Father,’ he said.
John looked wistful. ‘So shortly come, so soon to go,’ he murmured.’ Yet you are right,’ he added. ‘There is little time to lose.’
‘Tomorrow morning, at dawn, I shall leave,’ Ferdinand told him. ‘Your cause – as always – is my own.’
On his way through Catalonia to Saragossa there was one call which Ferdinand could not deny himself the pleasure of making.
It must be as far as possible a secret call. There was one little person whom he longed to see and who meant a great deal to him, but he was determined to go to great lengths to conceal his existence from Isabella. He was beginning to realise that it was going to be somewhat difficult to live up to the ideal which his wife had made of him.
He and his followers had rested at an inn and, declaring that he would retire early, he with two of his most trusted attendants went to the room which had been assigned to him.
As soon as they were alone, he said: ‘Go to the stables. Have the horses made ready and I will join you when all is quiet.’
‘Yes, Highness.’
Ferdinand was impatient when they had left him. How long his party took to settle down! He had to resist an impulse to go to them and demand that they retire to their beds immediately and fall into deep sleep.
That would be folly, of course, since the great need was for secrecy. He was not by nature impulsive. He knew what he wanted and was determined to get it; but experience had taught him that it was often necessary to wait a long time for success in one’s endeavours. Ferdinand had learned to wait.
So now he did so, impatient yet restrained, until at last his servant was at the door.
‘All is quiet, Highness. The horses are ready.’
‘That is well. Let us be off.’
It was pleasant riding through the night. He had wondered whether to send a messenger ahead of him to warn her. But no. It should be a surprise. And if he found her with a lover, he did not greatly care. It was not she – beautiful as she was – who called him, it was not merely for her sake that he was ready to make this secret journey, news of which might be brought to the ears of Isabella.
‘Oh, Isabella, my wife, my Queen,’ he murmured to himself, ‘you will have to learn something of the world one day. You will have to know that men, such as I am, who spend long periods away from the conjugal bed, cannot be denied a mistress now and then.’
And from love affairs such as that which he had enjoyed with the Viscountess of Eboli there were often results.
Ferdinand smiled. He was confident of his powers to obtain what he would from all women – even his sedate, and rather alarmingly prim, Isabella.
He was remembering the occasion when he and the Viscountess had become lovers. It was during one of those spells when he was away from Castile, in Catalonia on his father’s business. It was Isabella who had insisted that he leave her. ‘It is your duty to go to your father’s aid,’ she had said.
Duty! he thought. It was a word frequently recurrent in Isabella’s vocabulary.
She would never fail to do her duty. She had been brought up to regard it as of paramount importance. She would risk her life for the sake of duty; she did not know, she must not guess that, when she had allowed her husband to depart into Catalonia, she had risked his fidelity to their marriage bed.
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