The Queen's Vow: A Novel of Isabella of Castile by C. W. Gortner Read Free Book Online Page B

turning to Beatriz. “He doesn’t realize what this means. How can I keep him safe if he will not heed me?”
    “He’s still a boy,” she said. “What do you expect him to say? Let him think it’s for the best. Let him think he’s going away for a visit and then he’s coming back. You cannot know what the future holds. Maybe he’s right; maybe it will only be for a short while. It is possible, isn’t it? After all, Enrique never wanted either of you at court before.”
    “Yes, I suppose it’s possible,” I said softly. “I’m sorry about how I behaved in Santa Ana. I didn’t mean to be rude to you. You are my only friend; I had no right to order you away like that.”
    She embraced me. “You don’t need to apologize. You are my infanta. I’d go to the ends of the world to serve you.”
    “It feels as if that is where we’re going,” I said and I drew back. “I must see my mother.”
    “Go, then. I’ll start packing.” As I moved to the stairs, Beatriz added, “You are stronger than you think. Remember that, Isabella.”
    I did not feel strong as I climbed the stairs to my mother’s rooms. Her door was ajar; I heard her voice within, chattering with Doña Elvira. I braced myself for the worst, a scene that would wrench the very stones of Arévalo apart, yet when she saw me in the doorway, she turned to the scattered fabrics on her bed to exclaim, “Look, Isabella. This green brocade will be perfect for your new court gown. It’ll show off your pretty white skin.”
    I looked at Elvira; she shuffled sadly from the room. My mother busied herself with the cloth, pulling the rolls apart to extract a length of black damask. “And this one,” she said, holding it up to herself as shepivoted to the copper looking glass. “This is for me. Widows should wear black but no one says we need look like crows, eh?”
    I didn’t respond. She dropped the cloth on the bed. “Why so serious? Do you not like the green? Very well, here’s a lovely blue-gray. This might do nicely for—”
    “Mama,” I said. “Stop.”
    She went still, her hands buried in the pile. She did not look at me. “Don’t say it,” she whispered. “Not a word. I cannot bear it, not now.”
    I stepped to her. “You knew he would be there. Why did you not warn me?”
    She lifted her eyes. “What was I supposed to do? What
could
I do? I knew it the moment that letter arrived, and I told you that day they would come. This is the price I must pay: it is my debt. But at least I will pay it on my terms. Carrillo has seen to that.”
    “Your terms?” I regarded her warily. “Mama, what does that mean?”
    “What do you think? That worm Enrique will not take my son’s place in the succession away. He will not set a bastard above Alfonso. Come what may, my son, who bears royal blood, must be king.”
    “But Enrique now has a daughter; she will be declared his heir. You know that Castile does not honor Salic Law; here, a princess can inherit the throne and rule in her own right. Princess Joanna will—”
    My mother swerved around the bed, swift as a cat. “How can we know she is his, eh? How can anyone know? Enrique was never known for his potency in bed; all these years of marriage without a single child—it’s a miraculous conception, the grandees mutter; the queen must have been visited by an angel!” She burst into derisive laughter. “No one at court believes it; no one is taken in by this farce. They all know Enrique is weak, ruled by catamites—a voluptuary who keeps infidel guards about him and whose crusade to conquer Granada was a disaster; a fool who’d rather recite poetry and dress his boys in turbans than see to the kingdom; a cuckold who looks the other way while his whore of a wife beds whichever lackey catches her fancy.”
    I took a step back, horrified by her words, by the malignant gloating on her face
    “Outside these walls, Castile lies in misery,” she went on. “Our treasury is bankrupt, the