Daughters of Spain - Plaidy Jean. Страница 34

I shall be happy, she told herself, when I see Isabella and assure myself that this pregnancy has not weakened her.

‘You grow impatient,’ Ferdinand whispered, a smile on his lips.

‘And you too?’

He nodded. He was impatient for the birth of the child. If it were a son, the unhappy deaths of Juan and his offspring would be of little significance. The people would be glad to accept the son of Isabella and Emanuel as the heir.

‘If it is a boy,’ he said, ‘he must stay with us in Spain.’

‘Perhaps,’ ventured Isabella, ‘our daughter should stay with us also.’

‘What! You would separate husband and wife!’

‘I see,’ said Isabella, ‘that you are thinking there should be more children; and how could Isabella and Emanuel beget children if they were not together!’

‘That is true,’ replied Ferdinand. His eyes strayed to those three girls in the party – Margaret, Maria and Catalina. If his daughters had but been boys … But never mind, if Isabella had a male heir, this would be some solution of their troubles.

They were entering the town. How could she ever do so, Isabella asked herself, without remembering that it was the birthplace of Juana? That memorable event had occurred on a November day when the city looked different from the way it did this day in springtime. When she had first heard the cry of her little daughter she had not guessed what anxieties were to come because of her. Perhaps it would have been better if the child, to which she had given birth here in Toledo in the year 1479, had been stillborn as poor Margaret’s child had been. She felt an impulse to call Margaret to her and tell her of this. How foolish of her! Her grief was nowadays often weakening her sense of propriety.

They were at the gates of the city and the Toledans were coming out of their homes to welcome them. Here were the goldsmiths and silversmiths, the blacksmiths, the weavers and embroiderers, the armourers and the curriers, all members of the guilds of this city which was one of the most prosperous in Spain.

Thus it had been at that time when she and Ferdinand had come here to inspect the work on San Juan de los Reyes which they had given to the city. She remembered well the day they had seen the chains of the captives whom they had liberated when they conquered Malaga. These chains had been hung outside the walls of the church for significant decoration; they rested there today and they should remain there for ever – a reminder to the people that their Sovereigns had freed Spain from Moorish domination.

They would go to the church, or perhaps that of Santa Maria la Blanca, and give thanks for the safe arrival of the King and Queen of Portugal.

She would be happy among those horseshoe arches, among those graceful arabesques; there she would ask to be purged of all resentment against the sorrows of the last year. She would be cleansed of self-pity, and ready for the miracle of birth, the recompense which was to be the son her dearest Isabella would give to her and Spain.

It was meet that the Archbishop of Toledo should be in the city to greet them – gaunt, emaciated Ximenes de Cisneros, his robes of state hanging uneasily on his spare figure.

Isabella felt a lifting of her spirits as she greeted him. She would tell her old confessor of her weakness; she would listen to his astringent comments; he would scorn her mother-love as unworthy of the Queen; he would deplore her weakness in questioning the will of God.

Ferdinand’s greeting of the Archbishop was cool. He could never look at him without recalling that the office with all its pomp and grandeur might have gone to his son.

‘It does me good to see my Archbishop,’ murmured Isabella graciously.

Ximenes bowed before her, but even his bow had arrogance. He set the Church above the State.

Ximenes rode beside the Queen through the streets of Toledo.

With what great joy the Queen embraced her daughter Isabella!

This was when they were alone after the ceremonial greeting which had been watched by thousands. Then they had done all that was required of them, this mother and daughter, bowing graciously, kissing hands, as though they were not yearning to embrace and ask a thousand questions.

The Queen would not allow herself to look too closely at her daughter; she was afraid that she might see that which had made her anxious and betray her anxiety.

But now they were alone and the Queen had dismissed all her attendants and those of her daughter, for she told herself they must have this short time together.

‘My dearest,’ cried the Queen, ‘let me look at you. Why, you are a little pale. And how is your health? Tell me exactly when the little one is expected.’

‘In August, Mother.’

‘Well, that is not long to wait. You have not told me how you are.’

‘I feel a little tired, and rather listless.’

‘It is natural.’

‘I wonder.’

‘What do you mean? You wonder! A pregnant woman has a child to carry. Naturally she does not feel as other women do.’

‘I have seen some women seem perfectly healthy in pregnancy.’

‘Nonsense. It differs from woman to woman and from birth to birth. I know. Remember I have had five children of my own.’

‘Then perhaps this tiredness is nothing.’

‘And your cough?’

‘It is no worse, Mother.’

‘You think I am foolish with all my questions?’

‘Mother, it is good to hear those questions.’ Isabella suddenly flung herself into her mother’s arms and, to the Queen’s dismay, she saw tears on her daughter’s cheeks.

‘Emanuel is good to you?’

‘No husband could be better.’

‘I noticed his tenderness towards you. It pleased me.’

‘He does everything to please me.’

‘Then why these tears?’

‘Perhaps … I am frightened.’

‘Frightened of childbirth! It is natural. The first time can be alarming. But it is the task of all women, you know. A Queen’s task as well as a peasant’s. Nay, more so. It is more important for a Queen to bear children than for a peasant to do so.’

‘Mother, there are times when I wish I were a peasant.’

‘What nonsense you talk.’

Isabella realised then that there were matters she could not discuss even with her mother. She could not depress her by telling her that she had a strange foreboding of evil.

She wanted to cry out: Our House is cursed. The persecuted Jews have cursed us. I feel their curses all about me.

Her mother would be shocked at such childishness.

But is it childishness? Isabella asked herself. In the night I feel certain that this evil is all about me. And Emanuel feels it too.

How could that be? Such thoughts were foolish superstition.

She fervently wished that she had not to face the ordeal of childbirth.

How tiring it was to stand before the Cortes, to hear them proclaim her the heiress of Castile.

These worthy citizens were pleased with her, because none who looked at her could be in any doubt of her pregnancy. They were all hoping for a boy. But if she did not give birth to a boy, still the child she carried would, in the eyes of the Toledans, be the heir of Spain.

She listened to their loyal shouts and smiled her thanks. How glad she was that she had been brought up to hide her feelings.

After the ceremony with the Cortes, she must be carried through the streets to show herself to the people. Then she was received in the Cathedral and blessed by the Archbishop.

The atmosphere inside the massive Gothic building seemed overpowering. She stared at the treasures which hung on the walls and thought of the rich citizens of Toledo who had reason to be grateful to her mother for restoring order throughout Spain where once there had been anarchy. In this town lived the finest goldsmiths and silversmiths in the world; and the results of their labours were here in the cathedral for all to see.