Daughters of Spain

Chapter IV THE MARRIAGE OF JUAN

On a bright March day what was left of the battered fleet came into the port of Santander. Waiting to greet it were Ferdinand the King and by his side his son, Juan, the bridegroom to be.

Juan was nervous. His thoughts were for the young girl who had come perilously near to death at sea and had been miraculously brought to him. He must try to understand her; he must be gentle and kind.

His mother had talked to him about her, although she knew of course that she had no need to ask her son to show indulgence. Kindness came naturally to him. He hoped that she was not a flighty, senseless girl. Although if she were he would try to understand her ways. He would try to be interested in her interests. He would have to learn to enjoy dancing perhaps; he would have to pay more attention to sports. It was hardly likely that she would share his interests. She was young and doubtless she was gay. One could not expect her to care for books and music as he did.

Well then, he must suppress his inclinations. He must try above all to put her at ease. Poor child! How would she feel, leaving her home?

Ferdinand was smiling at him.

‘Well, my son, in a short while now you will see her,’ he said.

‘Yes, Father.’

‘It reminds me of the first day I saw your mother.’ Ferdinand wanted to say: If she does not please you, you should not take it to heart. There are many women in the world and they’ll be ready enough to please the heir to my crown.

But of course one would not say such things to Juan. He was quite unlike the gay Alfonso on whom Ferdinand had wished to bestow the Archbishopric of Toledo. Ferdinand felt a little wistful. It would have been pleasant had this son of his been a little more like himself. There was too much of Isabella in him. He had too strong a sense of duty. He looked almost frail in the spring sunshine. We should try to fatten him up, harden him, thought Ferdinand. And yet he was always a little abashed in the presence of his son; Juan made him feel earthy, a little uneasy about the sins he had committed throughout a long and lusty life. Angel was a good name for him; but the company of an angel could sometimes be a little disconcerting.

Even now Ferdinand guessed that, instead of impatiently waiting to size up the girl’s personal attributes – which was all he need concern himself with, her titles and inheritance being good enough even for the heir to Spain – he was thinking how best he could put her at ease.

Odd, thought Ferdinand, that such as I should have a son like that.

‘She is coming ashore now,’ said Juan; and he was smiling.

They rode side by side on their way to Burgos where Queen Isabella and the rest of the royal family would be waiting to greet them.

They were pleased with each other, and they made a charming pair. The people, who had lined their route to watch them pass, cheered them and called out their blessings.

They loved their heir. He was not so much handsome as beautiful, and his sweet expression did not belie the reports they had heard of him. It was said that any petition first submitted to Juan would be certain to receive attention, no matter if it came from the most humble. Indeed the more humble the petitioner, the more easily the Prince’s sympathies were aroused.

‘Long live the Prince of the Asturias!’ cried the people. ‘Long live the Archduchess Margaret!’

Ferdinand, riding with them, had graciously hung back. He was ready on this occasion to take second place to his heir and the bride. He would not have had it otherwise. He was congratulating himself. The girl looked healthy and none would guess she had been almost drowned at sea a week ago.

Margaret wished to talk to Juan. His Spanish manners were to her somewhat dignified, and she, after some years in Flanders, knew no such restraint.

‘The people love you,’ she said.

‘They love a wedding,’ he answered. ‘It means feasting and holidays.’

‘Yes, no doubt they do. But I think they have a special regard for you personally. Is my Spanish intelligible to you?’

‘Completely. It is very good.’

She laughed. ‘You would say it was good, no matter how bad it was.’

‘Nevertheless it is very good indeed. I trust my sister Juana speaks her husband’s language as well as you speak that of the man who will be yours.’

‘Ah … Juana,’ she said.

‘Did you see much of my sister?’ he asked anxiously.

‘No. She travelled to Lille, you know, for the wedding. I had to prepare myself to return with the fleet.’

He was quick to notice that she found the subject of Juana disconcerting, so changed it immediately although he was anxious to hear news of Juana.

‘Tell me, what pastimes please you most?’

She gave him a grateful look. ‘I’m afraid you will find me rather dull,’ she said.

‘I cannot believe it.’

She laughed aloud again, and he noticed – though she did not – that the attendants were astonished at her displays of mirth. Flemish manners! they were thinking. It was not fitting to show such lack of dignity in Spain.

But Juan liked that laughter; it was fresh and unaffected.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I do not greatly care for games and dancing and such diversions. I spend a great deal of time reading. I am interested in the history of countries and the ideas of philosophers. I think my brother deemed me a little odd. He says that I have not the right qualities to please a husband.’

‘That is not true.’ She saw the sudden gleam in Juan’s eyes. ‘I am not good at sport and games either. I frankly dislike hunting.’

Margaret said quickly: ‘I too. I cannot bear to hunt animals to the death. I picture myself being hunted to death. My brother laughs at me. He said that you would.’

‘I would never laugh at you nor scorn your ideas if they differed from my own. But, Margaret, I think that you and I are going to think alike on many things.’

‘That makes me happy,’ she said.

‘And you are not afraid … coming to a strange land … to a strange husband?’

‘No,’ she answered seriously, ‘I am not afraid.’

Juan’s heart began to beat wildly as he looked at her clean-cut young profile and her fair, fine skin.

She has all that I could have wished for in a wife, he told himself. Surely I am the luckiest of Princes. How serene she is! She looks as though she would never be ruffled. It is going to be so easy … so pleasant … so wonderful. I need not have been afraid. I shall not be shy and awkward with her. She is so young, and yet she has a calmness almost equal to that of my mother. What a wonderful person my wife will be.

‘You are smiling,’ she said. ‘Tell me what amuses you.’

He answered seriously: ‘It is not amusement which makes me smile. It is happiness.’

‘That,’ she replied, ‘is the best possible reason for smiling.’

So, thought Juan, I am beginning to love her already.

Margaret also began to smile. She was telling herself that she had been fortunate as she remembered the flabby lips of Charles VIII of France.

She was glad that she had been sent to France and affianced to Charles. It was going to make her realise how lucky she was to have come to Spain to marry Juan.

So on they rode to the shouts of ‘Long live the Prince! Blessings on him and his bride!’

They were already serenely contented as they thought of the years ahead.

In the Palace at Burgos the arrival of the cavalcade, headed by Ferdinand, his son and the bride, was awaited with eagerness.

In the children’s apartments the Princess Isabella watched the servants busy at the toilet of her sisters, Maria and Catalina.

How quiet they were! It would have been so different if Juana had been with them. She would have been speculating about the bride, shouting her wild opinions to them all.

Isabella felt rather pleased that Juana was no longer with them.

She was praying – she spent a great deal of time praying – that this young girl would make Juan happy. She hoped that she would be a gentle, religious girl. It would be heartbreaking if she were a wanton; and Isabella knew that stories were already reaching Spain of this girl’s brother’s conduct.

The Queen was very anxious about Juana, and the Flemish marriage was her greatest concern at the moment. Their father of course was only congratulating himself because the alliance had been made, and that Juana would be the mother of the Habsburg heirs. It would seem unimportant to him if she were wretchedly unhappy while she was producing them.

Maria was placidly relaxed while her attendants dressed her. She was as emotionless as ever. Stolid Maria, who lacked the imagination to wonder what Margaret felt on coming into a new country, to wonder whether she herself would not be doing the same in a future which was not really very distant!

How different it was with Catalina. Her little face was set and anxious, and it was not difficult to guess at the thoughts which went on behind those big dark eyes.

Poor little Catalina! She was going to suffer a terrible wrench if she ever went to England.

An attendant came to the apartment and whispered to Isabella that the Queen’s Highness wished to see her without delay, and she was to present herself in the Queen’s bedchamber.

Young Isabella left her sisters at once and went to her mother’s apartment.

The Queen was waiting for her, and Isabella’s heart sank as she looked at her, for she guessed what she had to say.

The Queen kissed the Princess and said: ‘There is news from Portugal. I wanted to tell you myself. I wanted to prepare you. Your father will doubtless be speaking of this matter when he sees you.’

Isabella’s mouth had gone dry. ‘Yes, Mother,’ she said.

‘Emanuel writes that since we insist on this condition he is ready to accept it.’

Isabella’s pale cheeks were suddenly flushed. She cried out: ‘You mean he will drive all those people out of his country just because …’

‘Just because he is so eager for this marriage. So, my dear, you should really begin to plan your departure for Portugal.’

‘So … soon?’ stammered Isabella.

‘I’m afraid your father wishes the marriage to take place this year.’

‘Oh … no!’

‘It is so. Dear Isabella, I shall insist that we meet again soon after you leave us. If you do not come to me here in Spain, I will come to you in Portugal.’

‘Mother, do you promise this?’

‘I swear it.’

Isabella was silent. Then she burst out: ‘Is there nothing I can do …? I did not think he would agree to this …’

‘He wants this marriage. You should rejoice. It is more than a good marriage. On his side it is a love-match.’

‘But there is my side, Mother.’

‘You will love him in time. I know, my child. I am sure of it. He is a good and gentle man and he loves you dearly. You have nothing to fear.’

‘But, Mother, this condition …’

‘But shows how much he loves you.’

‘I know that he does it against his will.’

‘That is because, good as he is, he has a certain blindness. That holy man, Tomás de Torquemada, sees in this the hand of God.’

Isabella shuddered. She wanted to shout that she did not like Torquemada, that she feared him, and when her cough kept her awake at night she fancied she heard the curses of the exiled Jews.

Her mother would not understand such flights of fancy. How could she explain to her? Her emotions seemed to choke her, and she feared that if she did not calm herself one of her bouts of coughing would overtake her.

She tried not to cough in front of her mother, because she knew how it worried the Queen. It was enough that Juana gave her such anxieties.

She said: ‘Mother, if you will excuse me, I will go back to my apartment. I have some more preparations to make if I am to be ready when the party arrives.’

The Queen nodded assent and, when her daughter had gone, murmured to herself: ‘All will be well. This is the best thing that could happen to my Isabella.’

Isabella the Queen took the daughter of Maximilian in her arms and embraced her.

There were tears in Isabella’s eyes. The girl was charming; she was healthy; and it seemed to her that Juan was already very happy with his bride.

Ferdinand looked on, his eyes agleam. It was very pleasant to be able to share in the general delight.

‘We welcome you to Burgos,’ said the Queen. ‘I could not express how eager we have been for your coming.’

‘I am happy to be here, Your Highness.’

The girl’s smile was perhaps too warm, too friendly.

I must remember, the Queen told herself, that she has lived long in Flanders and the Flemish have little sense of decorum.

The Princesses Isabella, Maria and Catalina came forward and formally welcomed Margaret.

They thought her strange with her Flemish clothes, her fresh complexion and her familiar manners; but they liked her. Even Maria seemed to grow a little animated as she watched her. As for Catalina, she took great courage from this girl, who seemed quite unperturbed that she had come to a land of strangers to marry a man whom she had only recently met.

A banquet had been prepared, and Juan and his bride sat with the King and Queen; and they talked of the jousting and festivities which had been arranged to celebrate the marriage.

‘It is a pity that it is Lent,’ said the Queen. ‘But as soon as it is over the nuptials shall be solemnised. We think that the third of April shall be the day of the wedding.’

Catalina looked quickly at the face of the Flemish Archduchess; she was relieved to see that the mention of a date for her wedding did not seem to disturb her.

It was the most magnificent spectacle seen in Spain for many years.

This was, after all, the wedding of the heir to the throne. It seemed more than the celebration of a wedding. Spain had never seemed to hold out such hopes of a prosperous future for her people. The prospects for peace were brighter than they had been for many years. No more taxes to pay for useless battles! No more forcing men from their peaceful labours to fight in the armies! Peace meant prosperity – and it seemed that here it was at last.

The charming young bridegroom would be the first heir of the whole of Spain, and the people had come to realise that a united Spain was happier to live in than a country divided into kingdoms which were continually warring with each other.

Even the frugal Isabella was determined that this marriage of her only son should be an occasion which all should remember, and she was therefore ready to spend a great deal of money in making it so.

All over the country there were tourneys and fêtes. Towns were gaily decorated throughout the land. Across the narrow streets in the smallest villages banners hung.

‘Long life to the heir!’ cried the people. ‘Blessings on the Prince of the Asturias and his bride!’

The marriage was celebrated with the greatest dignity and ceremony. The Archbishop of Toledo performed it, and with him were the grandees of Castile and the nobility of Aragon. It was a sight of great magnificence and splendour.

And as Margaret made her vows once more she compared her bridegroom with that boy of twelve to whom she had been betrothed in a farmhouse near the château of Amboise, and again she rejoiced in her good fortune.

Juan had dreaded the moment when they would be alone together. He had imagined the terrors of a young girl who might not fully understand what would be required of her, and himself explaining as gently as he could; he had not relished the task.

When they lay in the marriage bed it was Margaret who spoke first.

‘Juan,’ she said, ‘you are afraid of me.’

‘I am afraid that I might distress you,’ he answered.

‘No,’ she told him. ‘I shall not be distressed.’

‘Are you never distressed, Margaret?’

‘Not by that which must be.’

Juan lifted her hand and kissed it. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘As you say, what must be, must be.’

Then she laughed suddenly and, pulling her hand away from him, she put her arms about him.

‘I am so glad that you are as you are, Juan,’ she said. ‘I am sure nothing you do could possibly distress me. When I think that it might have been Charles lying beside me at this moment …’ She shivered.

‘Charles? The King of France?’

‘He has thick lips, and he grunts. He is not unkind but he would be coarse and … he would never understand me.’

‘I hope to understand you, Margaret.’

‘Call me Margot,’ she said. ‘It is my special name … the name I like those whom I love to call me by.’

‘Do you love me then, Margot?’

‘I think so, Juan. I think I must, because … I am not afraid.’

And so the difficulty was soon over, and that which had alarmed them became a pleasure. She taught him to laugh in her gay Flemish way, and he found himself fascinated by her familiar talk which might have seemed coarse on some lips, never on hers.

‘Oh Juan,’ she cried, ‘I thought my bones would now be lying on the sea bed and the big fishes would have eaten my flesh, and the little ones sport about my skeleton and swim in and out of the sockets of my eyes.’

‘Don’t say such things,’ he said, kissing her eyes.

‘I said, “Here lies Margot. She was twice married but she died a virgin.”’ Then she began to laugh afresh. ‘That can never be my epitaph now, Juan. For here lies Margot … beside you … but she is no longer a virgin … and she is not displeased.’

So they made love again, without fear or shame.

And in the morning Juan said: ‘We have given our parents what they wanted.’

Margaret interrupted: ‘The crown of Spain.’

Juan chanted: ‘The Habsburg inheritance.’

Then they laughed and began to kiss in a sudden frenzy of passion. Margaret drew herself away from him and kneeling on the bed bowed her head as though before the thrones of the King and Queen.

‘We thank Your Gracious Majesties. You may keep the crown of Spain …’

‘And the Habsburg inheritance …’ added Juan.

‘Because …’ began Margaret, smiling at him.

‘Because,’ added Juan, ‘you gave us each other.’

The wedding celebrations continued. The most popular person in the whole of Spain was the young Prince Juan. It was said of him that since the coming of Margaret he looked more like a man than an angel, but his sweetness of expression had not grown less. His bride was clearly a happy girl. It was small wonder that wherever they went there was rejoicing.

The Queen discussed with her husband her pleasure in this marriage.

‘You see,’ said Ferdinand, ‘how well it has turned out. This was a marriage of my making. You will admit that I knew what I was about.’

‘You have acted with the utmost wisdom,’ Isabella agreed. ‘You have given our Juan a share in the Habsburg inheritance – and happiness.’

‘Who would not be happy with a share in the Habsburg inheritance?’ demanded Ferdinand.

Isabella’s face was anxious. ‘I do not like these rumours I hear about Juana. She is so far from home …’

‘Nonsense! All will be well. She will adjust herself. The Flemings have different manners from our own. I have heard that she is passionately attached to her husband.’

‘Too passionately attached.’

‘My dear Isabella, can a wife love her husband too much?’

‘If he is not kind to her it would be easier for her to bear if she did not love him dearly.’

‘Strange words on your lips! You seem to imply it is a virtue that a wife should not love her husband dearly.’

‘You misunderstand me.’

‘Ah, have no fear for Juana. Rumour often lies.’

The Queen knew that he could not think of their daughter, Juana, without remembering all the advantages her marriage had brought to Spain. It was no use expecting him to see the personal view. He was quite incapable of that. He had hardened with the years. Have I softened? Isabella asked herself. No, it is merely that having so many loved ones I have become more vulnerable.

Ferdinand said abruptly: ‘Why should there be this delay with our daughter Isabella? Emanuel grows impatient.’

‘Should she not wait until her brother’s wedding celebrations are over?’

‘But we planned that these ceremonies should continue for a long time. The people expect it. Soon however I want Juan and Margaret to go on a long pilgrimage through the country, showing themselves in the various towns. There will be feasting and celebrations wherever they halt. There is nothing like a progress for winning the devotion of the people. And when you have a pair like Juan and Margaret … young, handsome and in love … the people will be their devoted slaves for ever.’ Ferdinand’s eyes blazed. ‘When I think of all that young man of ours is heir to, I could sing for joy.’

‘Perhaps Isabella could accompany them on their pilgrimage.’

‘And thus delay her departure for Portugal?’

‘It would remind the people of all that we are doing for them with these alliances.’

‘Quite unnecessary. Isabella must prepare to leave Spain for Portugal at once.’

The Queen was about to protest, but Ferdinand’s mouth was stubborn.

These are my children as well as yours, he was reminding her. You may be Queen of Castile, but I remain the head of the family.

It was useless to protest, the Queen decided. And a short postponement would make little difference to Isabella in the long run. She was sure that when her daughter was in Portugal she would be as happy with Emanuel as Margaret was with Juan.

The coming of Margaret to Spain had brought an immense relief to Catalina. It seemed to her that here she saw, played out before her eyes, that drama which had begun to dominate her life. The transference of a foreign Princess to the home of her bridegroom could be a happy event.

It was exhilarating therefore to watch the happiness of Margaret and Juan.

Margaret was very friendly with her husband’s sisters. She was amusing and clever, and her manner of never hesitating to say what she meant was extraordinary.

Catalina knew that the Princess Isabella was a little shocked by her sister-in-law. But Isabella could not share in the general rejoicing, because her own departure was imminent.

‘How cruel of us,’ said Catalina to Maria, ‘to be happy when soon Isabella is going to leave us.’

Maria looked astonished. Like her father she could not understand why Isabella should be so distressed. She was going to have a wedding, as Juan had; she was going to be the centre of attraction. That seemed a very fine thing to Maria.

Catalina often left the company, which Margaret was enlivening with some story of the manners of the Flemish, that she might sit with her sister, Isabella.

Isabella had changed in the last weeks. She had become resigned. She seemed a little thinner than usual but there was a hectic flush on her cheeks which made her look very pretty. Her cough worried her still but she continually sought to control it.

One day Catalina crept to her sister’s apartments and found her at the window, looking out wistfully on the scene below.

‘May I come in, Isabella?’

‘But of course.’

Isabella held out her hand and Catalina took it.

‘Why do you come to me?’ Isabella asked. ‘Is it not more fun to be with the others?’

Catalina was thoughtful. Yes, it was more fun. Margaret was amusing and it was pleasant to watch her and remind oneself that this was what it was like going to a strange country to be married; but Catalina could not enjoy the stories of Margaret while she must be thinking of Isabella.

‘I wished to be with you,’ she explained.

‘There will not be many more days when we can be together, for I shall soon be setting out for Portugal. Juan and Margaret will be starting on their journey, so you will miss them also. But of course they will be coming back.’

‘You will come back too.’

‘Yes. Our mother has promised that I shall return to see you all or she will come to me. If she does, I hope she will bring you with her, Catalina.’

‘I will implore her to.’

They were silent for a while and then Isabella said: ‘Catalina, you are the youngest, yet I think you are the wisest. You understand my feelings more than any of the others.’

‘It is because one day I too shall have to go away.’

‘Why yes, Catalina. How selfish I am, to think of myself all the time. But it will be different for you. Catalina, how I wish that I had gone before.’

‘Then you would not have been here now.’

‘You are too young to remember what happened in this country; and because of me it will happen in Portugal. Emanuel has agreed that it shall.’

‘They will drive out the Jews, Isabella; but is that not a good thing? Then Portugal will be an all-Christian country, even as Spain is.’

‘I think of those men, women and children driven from their homes.’

‘But they are Jews, Isabella. I have heard the servants talking about them. They poison wells. They destroy the crops with their incantations and, do you know, Isabella, they do something far worse. They kidnap Christian boys and crucify them as Christ was crucified.’

‘I have heard these stories too, but I wonder if they are true.’

‘Why should you wonder?’

‘Because when people do great injustice they always seek to convince themselves that what they have done is just.’

‘But it is surely just to bring all people to the Christian Faith. It is for their good.’

‘I believe that, but I am haunted by them, Catalina. I see them in my dreams. Terrible things happen to them. When they reached barbarous foreign countries they were robbed and murdered. Little girls like you were violated before the very eyes of their parents. And when they had raped them they slit open their bodies because it was rumoured that they had swallowed their jewels that they might take them away with them. You see, they were not allowed to take what belonged to them.’

‘Isabella, you must pray. You must be serene, as Margaret is. You must not think of these things.’

‘It is easy for her. She does not come to her husband with this guilt upon her.’

‘Nor should you, Isabella.’

‘But I do, Catalina. I hear their voices in my dreams. I see them … rows and rows of angry, frightened faces. I see terrible things in my dreams, and I feel that a curse is upon me.’

There was little that Catalina could do to comfort Isabella.