Spain for the Sovereigns - Plaidy Jean (читать книги TXT) 📗

‘Or converted to our faith,’ said Isabella.

‘I would see the Christian flag flying over every town in Spain,’ went on Ferdinand. And his eyes were brilliant, so that Isabella knew that he was thinking of the riches of Moorish cities; he was thinking of their golden treasures.

‘It shall come to pass,’ she told him.

Ferdinand turned to her then and laid his hands on her shoulders.

‘You are tired, Isabella. You should rest more.’

‘No,’ she told him, ‘I am but in my third month of pregnancy. You know how it is with me. I work up to the end.’

‘Have a care, my wife. Although we have three children, we do not wish to lose any newcomers.’

‘I will take care, Ferdinand. Have no fear of that. You consider the loss of this fortress very damaging to our cause?’

‘I consider it as the beginning of the Holy War.’

‘There have been many beginnings of that war which has been waged over our land periodically for centuries.’

Ferdinand’s grip on her shoulders tightened. ‘This, my Queen, is the beginning of that Holy War which is to end all such wars. This is the beginning of a united Spain.’

It was three months after the loss of Zahara, when Isabella was in the town of Medina. She was now six months pregnant and was finding journeys irksome indeed. Again and again she reminded herself – and her friends did also – of that time when, undertaking similar journeys, she had suffered a miscarriage.

When she passed through villages and saw mothers in the fields and vineyards with their children about them she was a little envious. She loved her children dearly, and one of the greatest sorrows of her life was that she saw so little of them.

But as long as they were in good health and well cared for she must not think too constantly of them; perhaps when she had completed her great tasks she would be able to spend more time with them.

By then, she admitted ruefully, they would probably be married. For the magnitude of the two tasks which lay before her she well understood: to purge her country of all heretics, to set the Christian flag flying over all Spanish territory – these were the meaning of life to her; and she did not forget that they had been attempted before in the past centuries. But no one, as yet, had succeeded in completing them.

‘Yet, with God’s help, I will,’ declared Isabella. ‘And Ferdinand and such men as Torquemada will make my task easier.’

Her confessor, Fray Fernando de Talavera came to her, and she greeted him with pleasure.

Devoted to piety as she was, she had always had a special friendship for her confessors, and when she was on her knees with them, she rarely sought to remind them that she was the Queen.

The influence of Torquemada would always be with her; and Talavera equally enjoyed her esteem.

Talavera was a much milder man than Torquemada – indeed it would have been difficult to find anyone who could match his zeal with that of the Prior of Santa Cruz – yet he was fervent in his piety. Like Torquemada, he did not hesitate to reprimand either Isabella or Ferdinand if he felt it was right to do so; and, although Ferdinand might resent this, Isabella never did if she believed that she deserved that reprimand.

She remembered now the first time Talavera had come to her to hear her confess. She had knelt, and had been astonished that he remained seated.

‘Fray Fernando de Talavera,’ she had said, ‘you do not kneel with me. It is the custom for my confessors to kneel when I kneel.’

But Talavera had answered: ‘This is God’s Tribunal. I am here as His minister. Thus it is fitting that I should remain seated – as I represent God – while Your Highness kneels before me to confess.’

Isabella had been surprised to be so addressed; but considering this matter, she came to agree that, as God’s minister, her confessor should remain seated while she, the Queen, knelt.

From that day she had begun to believe that she had found a singularly honest man in Talavera.

Now she confessed that she longed for a simpler life, so that she might take a larger part in the bringing up of her children, that she envied mothers in humbler stations, that on occasion she asked herself what she had done to be condemned to a life of continual endeavour.

Talavera took her to task. She was God’s chosen instrument. She did wrong to complain or to rail against such a noble vocation.

‘I know it,’ she told him. ‘But there is a continual temptation for a mother who loves her husband and children to long for a more peaceful life with them at her side.’

She prayed with Talavera for strength to do her duty, and for humility that she might accept with grace this life of sacrifice which had been demanded of her.

And when they had prayed, Ferdinand came to them.

He said: ‘I come to you with all speed. There is exciting news. The fortress of Alhama has been captured by Christian troops.’

Isabella stood very still, her eyes closed, while she thanked God for this victory.

Ferdinand looked at her with some impatience. Her piety at times irritated him. Isabella never forgot it; as for himself he had long decided that his religion was meant to serve him, not he his religion.

‘The place,’ said Ferdinand, his eyes agleam, ‘is a treasure house. Ponce de Leon, the Marquis of Cadiz, attacked the fortress, and it succumbed after a struggle. He and his men stormed the town. The carnage was great; bodies are piled high in the streets, and the booty is such as has rarely been seen.’

Isabella said: ‘And Alhama is but five or six leagues from Granada.’

‘There is wailing throughout the Arab kingdom,’ Ferdinand told her gleefully. ‘I shall prepare to leave at once and go to the assistance of brave Ponce de Leon, who has entered Alhama and is now being besieged by the Moors.’

‘This is a great victory,’ said Isabella. She was thinking of wild Ponce de Leon, who was an illegitimate son of the Count of Arcos, but who, on account of his many attributes, had been legitimised and given the title of Marquis of Cadiz. He was one of the boldest and bravest soldiers in Castile.

‘Alhama must never be allowed to fall again into Moorish hands,’ said Ferdinand. ‘We have it and we will hold it. It shall be the springboard for our great campaign.’

He left Isabella with Talavera and, when they were alone, Isabella said: ‘Let us give thanks for this great victory.’ And confessor and Queen knelt side by side.

When they arose, the Queen said: ‘My dear friend, when an opportunity arises I shall reward you for your services to me.’

‘I ask for no reward but to remain in Your Highness’s service,’ was the answer.

‘But I am determined to reward you,’ said the Queen, ‘for the great good you have done me. I shall bestow upon you the bishopric of Salamanca when it falls vacant.’

‘Nay, Highness, I should not accept it.’

Isabella showed faint surprise. ‘So you would disobey my orders?’

Talavera knelt and, taking her hand, put his lips to it. ‘Highness,’ he said, ‘I would not accept any bishopric except one.’

‘And that one?’

‘Granada,’ he said.

Isabella replied firmly: ‘It shall be yours . . . before long, my friend.’

Her voice rang with determination. There would be no holding back now. The war against the Moors must begin in earnest.

It was April, and Isabella had journeyed from Medina to Cordova, where Ferdinand was stationed. She was now large with her child and she knew that she could do little more travelling before it was born.

Yet she wished to be with Ferdinand at this time.

But when she arrived, Ferdinand had already left, as the siege of Alhama had now been raised and Ponce de Leon freed.