Spain for the Sovereigns by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online

throne.’
    ‘But my uncle is an old man . . .’
    ‘He is the King of Portugal, Highness. Moreover, he has an army to put into the field. We cannot fail with Portugal behind us. Highness, we shall succeed, and in succeeding we shall bring you a crown and a husband.’
    Joanna felt unable to reply. She was struck dumb with horror. That ageing man, her uncle, as a husband! War . . . with herself as the reason for it!
    She turned to these men, about to protest, but she did not speak, because, when she looked at their hard ambitious faces, she knew that it was useless. She knew her personal feelings were of no account. She was to be the figurehead, the symbol, and they would declare that they fought for her sake.
    For my sake, she thought bitterly. To give me a throne which I do not want. To give me for a husband an ageing man who terrifies me!

     
    Isabella was frowning over documents which were spread on a table before her in her private apartments in the Madrid Alcazar.
    These documents told a desperate story, for to study them was to learn how ill-equipped for battle were the armies of Castile.
    It seemed to her that, should there be a rising in Castile, she would not have more than about five hundred horse to attempt to quell it; and she was not even sure on which towns she could rely.
    The Archbishop of Toledo had retired to his estates in Alcalá de Henares and she was not sure how far he was ready to go in order to betray her. The loss of his friendship wounded her deeply; and the practical side of her nature deplored it even more. In those stormy days which had preceded the death of her brother she had come to learn something of the resourcefulness of this man; and that at such a critical time he had ceased to be her friend hurt her. That he might become her active enemy horrified her.
    War was what she dreaded more than anything. She needed long years of peace that she might restore order to Castile. She had taken over a bankrupt kingdom rent by anarchy, and she was determined to make it rich and law-abiding. Yet if at this stage she were plunged into war, how would she fare?
    She had so little at her disposal. Her good friend Andres de Cabrera, who, in the Alcazar at Segovia, had charge of the treasury, had warned her that the royal coffers were almost empty. No war could be waged without men and equipment; and now it seemed that reckless men in her kingdom were ready to plunge Castile into war.
    She needed strong men about her at this time; and most of all she needed Ferdinand.
    Then even as she sat looking at these depressing figures, she heard the clattering of horses’ hoofs below; she heard the shouts of voices raised in welcome and, forgetting her dignity, she leaped from her chair and ran to the window.
    She stood there, clutching the hangings to steady herself, for the sight of Ferdinand after a long absence never failed to move her deeply. There he was, jaunty and full of vigour, coming to her as she had known he would, the moment he received her call for help.
    She loved him so much, this husband of hers, that at times she was afraid of her own emotions, afraid that they would betray her into an indiscretion which would be unworthy of the Queen of Castile.
    In a short time he was standing before her; and those attendants who knew something of the depth of her feelings for this man retired without orders, that Isabella might be alone with her husband.
    At such times Isabella laid aside the dignity of queenship. She ran to Ferdinand and put her arms about him; and Ferdinand, never more delighted than at these displays of affection, embraced her with passion.
    ‘I knew you would come without delay,’ she cried.
    ‘As always when you needed me.’
    ‘We need each other at this time, Ferdinand,’ she told him quickly. ‘Castile is threatened.’
    He accepted the implication that the affairs of Castile concerned him as much as her.
    ‘My love,’ he said, ‘joyous as I am to be with you, before we give