The Last Queen (42 page)

May God watch over us all,” said Beatriz.

――――――――――――――――――――――――

TWENTY-SEVEN

hree suspense-laden days passed. On the fourth, clamoring voices and the

discordant clanging of steel roused us. German mercenaries in their full mail,

T large as barbicans and holding pikes, came into my room to announce our

immediate departure. Beatriz and I scarcely had an hour to throw my belongings into

the coffers and pack our valises before we were being escorted into the courtyard,

where the thunder of Philip‟s army gathered.

No one said anything. Surrounded by guards, we were led amid that cacophony of

men into Castile and the Count of Benavente‟s native city. Upon our arrival, Philip

lodged me in a suite of chambers in the
casa real,
with sentries posted day and night at my door.

Trapped in these luxurious apartments, I knew something terrible had occurred.

Beatriz reported there was much murmuring among the nobles, but she could not

discover anything concrete. I feared for my brave Soraya, of whom we hadn‟t heard

anything at all.

On June 28, my worst fears were confirmed.

Philip arrived in my rooms accompanied by Don Manuel, the Marquis of Villena

and Count Benavente. In his mellifluous voice, which wrapped about the words of the

document in his hand as if they were the lyrics of a chanson, Don Manuel recited

aloud:

“It is hereby announced that Her Grace, Queen Juana, our much-beloved

consort, does not wish to take part of any governmental or administrative affairs or be

informed of them. Should she wish to participate, it would lead to the upheaval of our

kingdom, owing to her malady. To avert said evil, we advise our father-in-law King

Fernando to renounce his regency and leave Castile at once, for should he or anyone

in his support interfere further in the assumption of our throne, we will condemn

such as a treasonable offense, punishable by imprisonment or death.

Signed on this twenty-seventh day of June 1506, by His Highness Philip, king of

Castile and archduke of Flanders.”

Don Manuel rolled up the scroll and extended it to me. “A copy for Your Grace‟s

records. You will see the majority of the
grandes
have added their signatures.”

I clutched my shawl about my shoulders, my other hand at my belly. I was alone.

Beatriz had gone to fetch my afternoon meal. “Do you have my or my father‟s

signature?” I asked. “Because if you do not, bring it before the Cortes and it will mean

nothing.”

“Your father knows not to defy me,” Philip snapped. “He has no one to help him

anymore save for his nobles in Aragón and they‟ll not risk themselves for his sake.

And my army is big enough to crush him and his measly kingdom to a pulp, if I so

choose. You best pray he leaves Segovia for Aragón before I take him to task. In the

meantime, tomorrow we will hold a bullfight to celebrate. You are excused from

attendance― though I expect you to honor my elevation to the throne at a special

gathering of the Cortes next month in Valladolid.”

He stalked out, Don Manuel scuttling behind. Villena and Benavente stayed. The

count averted his eyes as I met their gaze; for once in his life, Villena had the

wherewithal not to smile.

I raised my chin. To my surprise, my voice scarcely trembled. “I‟d be careful if I

were you, my lords. As you have just seen, my husband holds nothing sacrosanct. I

wonder what he‟ll do when the time comes to reward you?”

“We‟ll take your words under advisement,” Villena replied, and with a low bow,

he left. Benavente looked at me; I saw fear in his gaze. He was a man of simple

appetites, who preferred an uncomplicated life and had always left his decisions to his

ally, the marquis.

“Your Highness,” he mumbled, “I― I do not wish to see you come to harm.”

Before I could reply, Beatriz rushed in with a covered platter in hand. She took

one look at Benavente and barked, “Traitor! Have you no shame? She is your queen

and with child! You will pay for all you do to her, so help me God!”

“I did not want to do this!” he burst out. He turned beseeching eyes to me. “Your

Highness, I swear to you, were it up to me I would never see you so defamed.”

I whispered. “Tell Villena you concerns. The marquis has much to lose should my

husband fail. And so, it seems, do you.”

He bowed hastily and left. As the door closed on him, I reached blindly for the

bedpost.

Beatriz set the platter down and came to my side. “What did those villains say to

you? Come, you must get into bed this instant. You are pale as death.”

“There‟s no time for that.” I forced myself upright. “I‟ve run out of options.

Philip will call the Cortes to session next month. But my father is still in Segovia. I

need you more than I ever have before. I must escape.”

――――――――――――

BY DUSK, WE WORKED out a plan. Beatriz sat on the bed, absorbing my

instructions.

“They must believe you. They must think the shock of this news has put my

health and that of my unborn babe at risk. Tell them unless I‟m allowed some

exercise, I will surely sicken. Tell them a ride in the park will do me good. Cry, beg;

throw yourself at their feet. Do whatever you must to convince them. Ask them

where can I possibly go, a woman with child? Appeal to Villena and Benavente; if

there‟s any honor left in their miserable souls, they‟ll persuade Don Manuel. They

don‟t want my death on their hands.”

She nodded tremulously. “
Princesa
, I‟ll do what I can. But why won‟t you let me

come with you. If would be safer if we went together.”

“I already told you why. They could refuse us. You must use the occasion to

pretend to clean my rooms. Our leaving together will rouse suspicion. We have this

one chance. We cannot fail.” I leaned to her, placed my hands on her shoulders, and

stared into her dark eyes― eyes I could remember winking at me so long ago, on the

day of my betrothal by proxy. She had been with me from the beginning. I feared our

separation almost as much as she did.

I forced out a laugh. “Don‟t look so worried. I‟ll probably get there before you!

Remember, as soon as you hear the alarm that I am gone, you too must make haste.

And don‟t let them catch you, whatever you do. I need you with me in Segovia.”

――――――――――――

I COULDN‟T BELIEVE SUCH A SIMPLE PLAN HAD WORKED. YET HERE I was, astride

a chestnut mare, riding onto the park with Benavente and Villena at my side.

I lifted my face to the sun‟s heat, reveling in the oppressive air around us. The

park‟s tender spring lawns were charred, the gnarled oaks and olive trees interspersed

amid flowering dog roses, the only plants to thrive in summer. Their brilliant reds and

mauves mesmerized me. They looked painted on a brittle canvas, too bright to be real.

From behind us I discerned the distant cries of
“Ole!”
coming from the bullring, where matadors dueled with the fifty bulls Philip had ordered killed. As I hoped, the

entire city flocked to the spectacle, and during the ride into the park the only souls

we‟d seen were the sullen sentries manning the gates. They barely glanced at us, too

put out to be missing the festivities and free wine to pay us any mind.

Benavente cleared his throat. “Your Highness, may I have your leave?”

I gave him a nod. “By all means, my lord.”

“We want you to know that we―” He glanced uneasily at Villena. “I mean, the

marquis and I, we do not condone His Highness‟s actions necessarily. But he ordered

we accompany him to witness his declaration and we‟re hardly in a position to

refuse.”

“Yes, my husband can be a persuasive man,” I said. “No one knows that better

than I.”

“That he is,” interjected Villena tersely. “He threatened to imprison us if we didn‟t

comply. But there is still the Cortes to contend with. His Highness requires its

support to make himself king here, and anyone can see Your Highness is with child.

Women in your state are naturally prone to melancholia. It does not mean you are

unfit to rule, does it?”

“Indeed.” I scanned the area ahead. Beatriz had told me that when she went to

plead my case, Villena had mentioned that an old Roman wall enclosed this park and

therefore a ride would be safe enough. Impatient to get to the bullring and flaunt his

success, Don Manuel agreed. As we passed through the city gates, I had noticed with

trepidation that the wall did indeed look stout, but now I began to see that here, near

the confluence of the Elsa River, it had been neglected, and in one or two places,

almost dilapidated. Could I jump it? Or would I end up shattering my mare‟s legs and

my own neck in the process?

Benavente was running on at the mouth, eager to purge himself now that he had

found me willing to listen. “Of course if the Cortes deems it lawful that the archduke

rule as sole sovereign, we must oblige. But we don‟t bear Your Highness any ill will.

We never did.”

“Naturally,” I said. Did they think me a fool? They‟d see me locked away if they

thought they could get away with it. But my words to them the day before had clearly

taken root: he and Villena had begun to wonder whether it was wise to entrust their

future to Philip and Don Manuel.

I tightened my grip on my reins as we rounded a bend in the road. I dared not

look about me, lest I betray my purpose. “My lords,” I said, hoping my voice didn‟t

sound as high-pitched to them as it did to me, “might we quicken our pace a little?”

“Why, yes. Yes, of course.” Benavente beamed, only to happy to oblige and thus

earn himself the ability to say he had done all he could to assist me in my time of

need.

“Thank you, my lord.” I filled my lungs with air, wound the reins about my

fingers and invoked my strength. Then I rammed by booth heels as hard as I could

into the mare‟s sides. Startled from her insouciant trot, she leapt forward.

I did not look back. I did not even breathe as I kicked again, harder this time, and

leaned close to her arched neck, my belly pressing against the saddle horn. “Run,

bonita,
” I breathed into her flattened ear. “Run as fast as you can. Run for your queen.”

Villena‟s shout reached me as if from across a vast divide. “Your Highness! Your

Highness, stop this instant!”

I knew one must go after me while the other raced back to the city to raise the

alarm. I prayed Benavente would be the one to follow,. as he was the eldest and least

fit. He also rode a mare like my own while Villena‟s was Arabian gelding, bred for

speed. I didn‟t know how fast my mare could run. Fortunately, I weighed less than

during my previous pregnancies, and as if she sensed my anxiety the valiant creature

increased her stride, seeming to fly toward a section of bulwark looming ahead.

A gasp tore from my throat. It was impossibly high.

I am going to die, I thought. I am going to break against that wall. But as least I

die free.

Closing my eyes, I buried my face into the mare‟s mane. I felt myself lift upward,

up and up, soaring. I tensed, braced for the bone-shattering crunch, the lethal

projection onto rocky ground.

The mare landed, graceful as a dancer. My teeth cut into my lip. I looked up, saw

that we had cleared the wall and now galloped over the open salt lands. Tears

streamed down my face.

I had done it! I had escaped!

I braved a glance over my shoulder. My exultation died. Villena was fast behind

me, having jumped the wall as well. he gesticulated furiously, his cap blown from his

head, his hair billowing about his enraged features.

I jammed my heels into my mare again. The poor creature was running as fast as

she could, panting now with exertion. With a stallion like Villena‟s, I could have flown

to Sergovia, but I‟d been given an older horse, bred for ladies and docile rides around

the park.

I had to get off the salt flats. With any luck, I could lose Villena. I spied a dense

pine forest on a ridge. Pulling the mare to the left, I raced toward it.

Villena began to drop behind me, not yet out of sight, but growing more distant. I

had released my grip on the reins. Feeling the bed slacken in her mouth, the mare

picked up speed. The forest neared, individual pines becoming visible. There was

enough foliage and undergrowth to hide in. I would stay in the forest until nightfall

and start out again under the cover of darkness.

The mare plunged up the ridge, loose rocks and gravel scattering under her

hooves. When we reached the top, at the edge of the forest, to my horror, she came

to a halt, her flanks lathered, heaving. Saliva drooled from her mouth. I‟d ridden her

to exhaustion.

I anxiously searched the barren flat below me. I had deviated from my original

course toward the river, but my swerve must have dissuaded Villena, for he was gone.

Either he‟d ceased his pursuit in favor of going back for reinforcements or he sought

a way to intercept me as I emerged from the forest. By now, word would be out; it

would only be a matter of time before they guessed my destination. Fortunately, I had

decided on a circuitous route.

I slid to the ground and led the mare into the thicket of trees, pushing down a