The Last Queen (32 page)

docked at the bay‟s opening.

I clutched the admiral‟s arm. “Will you keep my son safe, my lord?”

He said softly, “Your Highness, I‟ll guard him with my life. Do not fear.”

I nodded, glanced again over my shoulder. My mother looked so small, indistinct

now on her chair. The admiral helped me down the water steps and into the rowboat.

“Thank you, my lord,” I whispered. “You will take care of her?”

He bowed low. “I will remain at her side,
princesa
, and be here when you return.

May God protect you.” He kissed my hand. Before he drew back, he lifted his eyes to

me and I saw in their depths a stalwart resolve that gave me strength.

I nodded and turned away.

The rowers took up their oars. We crested the waves. The figures on the dock

receded, grew smaller, more distant, until they eventually faded from view.

__________________________________

1504-1505

Del arbol caido, todos hacen lena.

From the fallen tree, All make wood.

―
POPULAR SAYING

__________________________________

he moonlit sky dipped into the sea, submerging a thousand stars. On deck, I

stared into the endless darkness, mustering courage I knew I would require.

T Soon I would reunite with Philip and everything that had come between

us. I had to stay steadfast, knowing I fought for the good of Spain and my sons. I did

not know what awaited me; I did not know who the man who had forsaken me in

Spain had become.

I held out very little hope.

When a footstep came behind me I looked around. Beatriz and I stood together

in silence. I finally whispered, “I am afraid,” and it felt as though the entire world

shuddered. She took my hand in hers. “I know,
princesa.
”

On the seventh day we arrived in Flanders.

_________________

RAIN AND MIST OBSCURED THE QUAY AND FLAT MEADOWS. AN ENTOURAGE

waited for me, swathed in oiled cloaks. I didn‟t recognize anyone, pondering them

when a strange, elegantly dressed figure emerged.

He was only a little taller than a dwarf, an odd sallow-skinned man, his features

overpowered by a jutting chin tipped with a goatee. Cinder-black eyes gleamed over a

hooked nose; his mouth was a wide gash with uneven teeth. Yet when he spoke his

voice disarmingly melodious, his words in perfect Castilian. “Your Highness, it is my

honor to welcome you home.”

I regarded him warily. “Have we met, my lord?”

He inclined his head. “I have not yet had the privilege. I am Don Juan Manuel,

Spanish ambassador to the Habsburg court. I previously had the honor of serving Her

Majesty your mother at the Imperial court of Vienna. His Highness the archduke sent

me to escort you.”

I vaguely recalled his family name. “Your aunt, she is my sister Catalina‟s

duenna?”

“Yes, my aunt Doña Elvira currently resides with the infanta Catalina in

England.” He gave me an obsequious smile. “Your Highness honors us with her

recollection.”

I had no use for flattery, not in this dreary downpour after weeks at sea. I looked

past him to the litter and horses. Standards hung sodden, held by pages in sopping

livery. Only a few officials and this envoy to welcome me: a pauper‟s reception. It

spoke volumes.

“Where is my husband?” I said.

Don Manuel sighed, “Ah, but of course. Your Highness could not have heard.

You were at sea when word came to us of a peace settlement between France and

Spain.”

“Oh?” I wasn‟t sure of his loyalties and decided the less I revealed, the better.

“What has this to do with my husband?”

He bowed. “
Princesa,
if you would accompany me to your litter, I shall explain.

You will be proud of His Highness, most proud.”

I caught Beatriz‟s eye and had to suppress unexpected laughter. This was absurd.

Here I was in day-old soiled clothing, weary to the bone, having left my child and a

dying mother behind, and he honestly thought I‟d take pride in Philip‟s dubious

accomplishments?

“I‟m certain I will,” I managed to murmur.

_________________

WRAPPED IN FUR AGAINST THE CHILL, I listened to silence as Don Manuel relayed

how Philip had apparently single-handedly negotiated a break in the hostilities over

Naples. It wasn‟t clear to me if my father or Louis had first sued for peace, but

whichever the case, Philip had gone once again to Paris. It had happened suddenly,

Don Manuel said, though of course a courier had been dispatched at once to him as

soon as word came I was on my way.

I did not comment. Reassuring as I found the news of a peace, I‟d still arrived to

uncertainty. And I had learned that anything Philip did in the political arena was rarely what it seemed.

We reached Ghent by nightfall. The florid palace looked dark, shuttered, a few

lone torches illuminating its gilded façade. Everyone in residence, Don Manuel had

told me, had retired. No one had been certain when my ship might dock, and my

children were always put to bed directly after supper to “aid their digestion.”

“We can of course wake them if you like,” he added.

“No, let him sleep.” I pulled my cloak tighter about me. The palace reminded me

of a filigree ornament in comparison to the stark edifices of Spain. An overpowering

feeling of emptiness came over me as though this realm of gardens and laughter,

where I‟d given birth to my children and known such fleeting happiness, were a

conjurer‟s illusion.

Together with Beatriz and Soraya, I entered a home I no longer recognized.

_________________

I AWOKE TO A SUNLIGHT SEEPING THROUGH DAMASK CURTAINS. Lifting myself to

my elbows, I stared in momentary bewilderment at my surroundings. Then I slid from

the bed to pad barefoot the window, pulling back the heavy drapes.

The gardens blow me were drenched in the morning light, the colors of the roses

so profligate it hurt my eyes. I turned back to the room. A night‟s sleep had done little to soothe my discomfort. Everything still looked strange, garish, overblown. Had I

ever felt comfortable in these rooms?

Beatriz entered with my breakfast. Moments later Madame de Halewin appeared,

svelte as ever in ash-gray, slivery white threading her immaculate coif. She curtsied,

expressing all the appropriate sentiments required for my return and for the loss of

Doña Ana, whose body had been sent to Spain for entombment.

I had to bite back a rush of tears. I would have done anything at that moment

now to have my duenna‟s abrasive presence at my side.

“Is there anything Your Highness requires of me?” said Madame, as if we had

only the most formal of acquaintance.

“There is. I wish to see my children. Bring them once I have bathed and dressed.”

I disposed of a wardrobe replete with gowns, cloaks, hoods, sleeves, and shoes;

before my departure for Spain I‟d ordered everything I did not take with me packed

into sandalwood chests scented with lavender, in anticipation of my return. The court

attire that had traveled with me was by now hopelessly soiled; yet when Beatriz asked

if I wanted her to fetch a few of my stored gowns (for the wardrobe was kept in a

different part of the palace), I shook my head. I chose instead one of the black

brocade dresses we‟d made from the Venetian cloth.

Don Manuel accompanied Madame de Halewin and the children. In the cold light

of day, he seemed an unlikely choice for a Spanish envoy. During his time at the

emperor‟s court, he‟d adopted a continental mode of dress, with costly satin and

abbreviated slashed breeches, and rings on every finger. In a manner, he reminded me

of the Marquis of Villena, and yet he had served Spain for many years, his family one

of noble descent. I couldn‟t think of a single reason to dislike him, and still there was something about him that reminded me of rank meat.

Ignoring his platitudes, I turned to my children.

Three perfect strangers stood before me. I knew my three-year-old Isabella at

once, for her blue eyes and the shy, curious smile that touched her lips when I

beckoned. After she submitted half-consciously to my embrace, she held onto my

hand, inspecting the ruby ring my father had sent me in honor of little Fernando‟s

birth.

“You have a brother in Spain,” I said, encompassing my other children with my

smile. “He hopes to meet you soon. I had to leave him. He is too young for a long

voyage.” I paused, motioned to my eldest daughter. “Eleanor, my dear, come closer.”

Eleanor took a wary step forward. At six, she was tall for her age, thin and

somber-faced, her curtsy executed with stilted precision. I was about to ask if she

remembered me when she asked abruptly, “Is
Tante
Margaret coming to visit?”

making it clear that in my absence she had bonded with her aunt, with whom she‟d

spent many months in Savoy.

“No,” I said quietly. “Not that I‟m aware of.”

If my eldest daughter was disconcerting, my eldest son proved even more so, his

anemic gaze uncanny, his disinterest in me, indeed in anyone save his head tutor,

Bishop Utrecht, all too apparent. Like Eleanor, Charles responded to my questions in

polite monosyllables, though he did at one point ask if I‟d brought him a gift. Taken

aback by his request, I plucked the ruby ring from my finger. “Your grandfather in

Spain gave me this.” I watched him eye the gem in expert appraisal before he tucked it

into his doublet. He bowed, thanking me with an indifference that made me cringe.

“Did Grandfather send me anything?” Isabella piped. I nodded. “A pair of pearl

earrings. I‟ll get them for you later.” I pulled her close, reveling in her squirm. She

alone of my children showed any sign of warmth.

It was not the reunion I‟d envisioned and I set myself to investigating their

circumstances. I found everything in order, albeit regimented by the inflexible rules of

how royal children ought to be raised. Eleanor disposed of her own household of

ladies, overseen by the ever-efficient Madame de Halewin. And I could see she had an

educational schedule of impressive breadth, proof of the influence my erudite sister-

in-law had over her upbringing. Not even my sisters and I had enjoyed such a

demanding array of studies, yet Eleanor seemed content, her sole complaint that

Tante Margaret lived so far away. I promised her we would have Margaret visit us

soon, quelling the sting of resentment that in a mere two years I should find myself a

suppliant for my eldest daughter‟s affection. I could hardly accuse Margaret of caring

too
well for her.

Utrecht informed me that Charles had a delicate constitution, which apparently

justified the army of officials surrounding him. I did not like the isolation my soon

dwelled under; the grueling daily lessons and protocol that did not allow him to go to

the privy without three attendants. Recalling how my brother, Juan, loved to ride and

shoot with the bow, indeed how all of us had relished being outdoors, I suggested

Charles should engage in activities normal for every child. The bishop retorted that

His Highness would be taught all the requisite physical skill once he reached the

proper age. Surely, I did not wish for my only soon to be injured while swinging a

sword or riding some unruly beast?

“He is not my only son,” I said, a lump in my throat. I turned away, but not

before I issued the command that henceforth all three of my children must enjoy at

least two hours of fresh air every day, free of books and responsibilities.

As the days wore on and I waited for word of Philip‟s return, I tried to adapt to

the monotony of life in Flanders. I joined my children in the gardens when the

weather permitted, sewed and read and wrote letters, ate informally with my women.

All along, a quiet dread built inside of me.

Then Don Manuel came to inform me that Philip was due back in May. On the

morning before his scheduled arrival, I awoke early and summoned Beatriz. “help me

select a gown, and have Soraya fetch my pearls from my wardrobe. I would greet him

like a queen.”

Beatriz brought me a crimson gown cut in the Spanish fashion. As I sat before the

mirror while she brushed out my hair and started to coil it into a coiffure, Soraya

entered. There was a pause. Beatriz barked, “Stop dragging your feet. Her Highness

wants her jewels today, not next week.”

I watched Soraya‟s unsteady reflection in the tarnished glass as she came to my

side. Her hands were empty; her eyes averted. “
Princesa,
there is nothing there.”

“What do you mean?” said Beatriz impatiently. “Of course, they‟re there, you

stupid girl! I put them in the vault myself before we left for Spain.”

Soraya dipped into her pocket, brought out the set of keys. “I looked.” She met

my gaze. “
Princesa,
” she repeated. “There is nothing here.”

“Impossible!” snapped Beatriz. I stood, and evil prickle creeping down my spine.

“Beatriz, go fetch Madame de Halewin. Tell her to meet me in my wardrobe.”

Throwing a short cloak over my gown, I marched with my hair half-dressed toward

the wing where my clothes were kept, ignoring the startled servants in their corridors.