Виктория Холт: Daughters of Spain

Could he not see the stricken look in the child’s face now? Could he not understand its meaning?

‘I have a little matter to discuss with your mother,’ he went on. ‘You may all leave us.’

The children came forward in order of seniority and took their leave of their parents. The coming of Ferdinand into the apartment had brought with it the return of ceremony.

Little Catalina was last. Isabella leaned towards her and patted her cheek. Those big dark eyes were bewildered; and the fear was already beginning to show in them.

‘I will come to you later, my child,’ whispered the Queen, and for a moment the fear lifted. It was as it had been in the days of the child’s extreme youth when she had suffered some slight pain. ‘Mother will come and make it well.’ It was always so with Catalina. Her mother’s presence had such an effect on her that its comfort could always soothe her pain.

Ferdinand was smiling the crafty smile which indicated that he had some fresh scheme afoot and was congratulating himself on its shrewdness.

‘Ferdinand,’ said Isabella when they were alone, ‘that is the first indication that Catalina has had that she is to go to England.’

‘Is that so?’

‘It was a shock to her.’

‘H’m. She’ll be Queen of England one day. I can scarcely wait to get those marriages performed. When I think of the great good which can come to our country through these alliances I thank God that I have five children and wish I had five more. But it was not of this that I came to speak to you. This man Ximenes … this Archbishop of yours …’

‘And yours, Ferdinand.’

‘Mine! I’d never give my consent to setting up a humble monk in the highest office in Spain. It has occurred to me that, as a humble man who will suddenly find himself a very rich one, he will not know how to manage great riches.’

‘You can depend upon it, he will not change his mode of life. He will give more to the poor, I’ll swear, and I believe it has always been a great dream of his to build a University at Alcalá and to compile a polyglot Bible.’

Ferdinand made an impatient gesture. There came into his eyes that acquisitive gleam which Isabella now knew so well and which told her that he was thinking of the rich revenues of Toledo, and she guessed that he had some scheme for diverting them from the Archbishop to himself.

‘Such a man,’ said Ferdinand, ‘would not know what to do with such a fortune. It would embarrass him. He prefers to live his hermit’s life. Why should we prevent him? I am going to offer him two or three cuentos a year for his personal expenses, and I do not see why the rest of the revenues of Toledo should not be used for the good of the country generally.’

Isabella was silent.

‘Well?’ demanded Ferdinand impatiently.

‘Have you put this matter before the Archbishop?’ she asked.

‘I thought it would be wiser if we did so together. I have sent for him to come to us. He should be here very shortly. I shall expect you to support me in this.’

Isabella did not speak. She was thinking: I shall soon need to oppose him with regard to Catalina. I shall not allow him to send my daughter away from home for some years. We must not continually pull one against the other. The Archbishop, I am sure, is more able to fight his battles than my little Catalina.

‘Well?’ repeated Ferdinand.

‘I will see the Archbishop with you and hear what he has to say on this matter.’

‘I need money … badly,’ went on Ferdinand. ‘If I am going to pursue the Italian wars with any success I must have more men and arms. If we are not to suffer defeat at the hands of the French …’

‘I know,’ said Isabella. ‘The question is, is this the right way to get the money you need?’

‘Any way to get the money for such a purpose is the right way,’ Ferdinand sternly told her.

It was shortly afterwards when Ximenes came to the apartment.

‘Ah, Archbishop!’ Ferdinand stressed the title almost ironically. Anyone looking less like an Archbishop there could not possibly be. Why, in the day of Mendoza the title had carried much dignity. Isabella was a fool to have bestowed it on a half-starved holy man.

‘Your Highnesses,’ murmured Ximenes, making obeisance before them.

‘His Highness the King has a suggestion to make to you, Ximenes,’ said the Queen.

The pale eyes were turned on Ferdinand, and even he felt a little disturbed by their cold stare. It was disconcerting to come face to face with someone who was not in fear of one. There was nothing this man feared. You could strip him of office and he would shrug his shoulders; you could take him to the faggots and set them alight and he would delight in his agony. Yes, it was certainly disturbing for a King, before whom men trembled, to find one so careless of his authority as Ximenes.

‘Ah,’ Ferdinand was blustering in spite of himself, ‘the Queen and I have been speaking of you. You are clearly a man of simple tastes, and you find yourself burdened with great revenues. We have decided that you shall not be burdened with these. We propose to take them from you and administer them for the good of the country. You shall receive an adequate allowance for your household and personal expenses …’

Ferdinand stopped, for Ximenes had lifted a hand as though demanding silence; he might have been the sovereign and Ferdinand his subject.

‘Your Highness,’ said Ximenes, addressing himself to Ferdinand, for he knew that this was entirely his idea, ‘I will tell you this. It was with great reluctance that I accepted my Archbishopric. Nothing but the express orders of the Holy Father could induce me to do so. But I have accepted it. Therefore I will do my duty as I see it should be done. I know that I shall need these resources if I am to care for the souls in my charge. And I must say this without more ado: If I remain in this post I and my Church must be free; and what is mine must be left to my jurisdiction, in much the same way as Your Highness has charge of your kingdoms.’

Ferdinand’s face was white with anger. He said: ‘I had thought that your mind was on holy matters, Archbishop, but it seems it is not unaffected by your revenues.’

‘My mind is on my duty, Your Highness. If you persist in taking the revenues of Toledo you must also remove its Archbishop from his post. What has Her Highness the Queen to say of this matter?’

Isabella said quietly: ‘It must be as you wish, Archbishop. We must find other means for meeting the requirements of the state.’

Ximenes bowed. ‘Have I your leave to retire, Your Highnesses?’

‘You have our leave,’ answered Isabella.

When he had gone she waited for the storm to break. Ferdinand had gone to the window; his fists were clenched and she knew that he was fighting to control his anger.

‘I am sorry, Ferdinand,’ she said, ‘but you cannot rob him of his rights. The revenues are his; you cannot take them merely because he is a man of holy habits.’

Ferdinand turned and faced her. ‘Once again, Madam,’ he said, ‘you give an example of your determination to thwart and flout me.’

‘When I do not fall in with your wishes it is always with the utmost regret.’

Ferdinand bit his lips to hold back the words which were struggling to be spoken. She was right, of course. She was indeed happy when they were in agreement. It was her perpetual conscience which came between them. ‘Holy Mother,’ he murmured, ‘why did you give me such a good woman for my wife? Her eternal conscience, her devotion to duty, even when it is opposed to our good, is the cause of continual friction between us.’

It was no use being angry with Isabella. She was as she always had been.