That Other Juana Read online

  v v v

  Juana and three of her ladies stood in a luxurious billowing rainbow of silks, satins and velvets, a glorious heap of skirts, bodices, sleeves, chemises, underskirts and mantles.

  ‘The blue, your highness?’

  ‘I think not, Ana. After so many days at sea I shall feel I am drowning in those brocade waves. We shall put that colour away until we have rid our minds of a frightful journey, and until blue will only remind us of skies, rivers and gentle lakes.’

  Beatriz held up a white velvet skirt embroidered with hundreds of pearls, ‘Perhaps white, ma'am, white for a new beginning. Like paper before it is written upon?’

  ‘What a lovely thought and so poetic. But today I think we need a strong colour.’

  ‘Then, a red dress?’ suggested Ana, ‘I do so love red, it is my favourite colour.’

  ‘No, too bold,’ replied Juana before deciding upon the yellow. ‘A yellow dress will be perfect. Yes ladies, we will dazzle the Archduke Philip with the golden warmth and brilliance of the Spanish sun. And it will raise our spirits too. Let us begin, Maria.’

  Maria was her favourite lady. Juana felt most at ease with her; she had, after all, chosen Maria herself and therefore would have more confidence in entrusting her with any of her private thoughts. The others were of her mother’s choosing.

  Maria directed the complex task of dressing their mistress. They busied themselves, chattering and fussing; concentrating. Today, more than ever, they had to dress Juana with extreme care. As they worked, their shared giggles and exclamations released the nervous tension.

  Maria inspected the brocade dress very carefully, a little pull here or a tuck there, so that just enough but not too much of the chemise showed in the front openings running down the sleeves. She inspected the stitching, just this minute completed, attaching the sleeves to the bodice. She checked the fit of the bodice over the skirt. Then she turned back the wide sleeves to show six inches, no more no less, of yellow satin lining and the gold and red embroidered cuffs of the chemise. She then fitted a modesty vest of fine gold thread, delicately woven and set with rubies, across Juana's breast, tucking and pinning it carefully to the chemise. Finally she fastened the clasp of the necklace with its enormous ruby; a farewell gift from Queen Isabel.

  ‘Your highness, you look radiant. You will astonish and delight all who see you today.’ Maria spoke for all, ‘And now for your hair. Beatriz, the hairdressing cape, if you please.’

  The yards of travelling scarf were unwound from her head and her auburn tresses tumbled free in scented waves; the handiwork of her slave who possessed all the secrets of the mysterious world of perfumed oils and their powers. They were brushed then braided with a ribbon into a long single plait down her back. A gold hairnet was pinned in position and over this Maria placed a black velvet hood with its trim of gold flowers, each one with a tiny ruby at its centre.

  Maria gave their work one final inspection, running her expert eye over every detail before allowing Beatriz and Ana to arrange the gold velvet mantle trimmed with ermine over Juana's shoulders. She gave the hood a tiny adjustment, ensuring that it neatly framed Juana's face and gracefully curved out to rest on her shoulders, then stood back to admire their work.

  Juana looked at them, anxiously awaiting their judgement, ‘Well, what do you think? How do I look?’

  Their voices tumbled one over the other telling her just how exquisite she looked: how the dress was so perfectly made and fit her just so; how the embroidered border of her hood so cleverly repeated those of her bodice and skirt; how the ermine of her mantle and the white of her chemise peeking through the sleeves so delightfully completed the dazzling picture.

  No one would see her white stockings, her yellow shoes made of the softest leather, nor her black slip-on mules, but Maria knew they were there and she was proud of the overall effect and completeness. This was to be Juana’s first public ceremony, and one open to the greatest scrutiny. Maria felt they were all to be congratulated for a task well done.

  Before they could exhaust all the praises a tapping on the door interrupted them; now there was silence where only seconds before there had been such commotion.

  The moment had finally arrived; the moment when Juana would set foot in this new country, her new home.

  Her laughter was gone, ‘Blessed Virgin Mary, on this your special day, see fit to protect this humble child before you. Guide me through these next few hours. Help me to do and say the right things. Help me, as you did in England, to play the part of a royal princess. Help me to hide my nervousness. Please make them like me. Be there when I meet Philip. Make him glad when he sees me; make him happy that I was the one chosen to be his wife. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou …’

  Her prayers finished, she counselled herself to take courage, to count to ten then give her orders.

  On the count of ten she raised her head. ‘Open the door, Maria, we are ready to leave.’

  v v v

  The captain and his crew had lined the decks, waiting on bended knee to say farewell to their precious passenger. Their cries of God's blessings warmed her heart and with a smile she turned to thank them. They cheered and tossed their bonnets high in the air.

  The ship had been brought in and moored alongside the quay at Bergen-op-Zoom. A broad gangway had been prepared and Don Fadrique led Juana down onto the cobbles. How good it felt to step on the reassuring strength and solidness of those stones even if they did seem to rise and fall like gentle waves. Her attendants merrily fussed around her. Her uncle stood at her side admiring her.

  ‘Here we are at long last, safe and sound and with firm ground beneath our feet, and you looking quite beautiful. Unfortunately they are not ready for the reception. We will know when it is time to proceed when our heralds, followed by theirs, have formally announced your arrival.’

  ‘It took them no time at all in England.’

  ‘This is all very different; this must be done in a formal manner according to the rules of protocol.’ He didn’t add that he could not understand the delay, and that he was concerned. ‘You enjoyed our stay there?’

  ‘It was marvellous; every moment. Everyone was so kind and generous in their welcome with cheering crowds wherever I went, and the mayor and the magistrates so hospitable.’

  ‘Unfortunately the English hospitality proved too much for many of our sailors.’

  ‘The good folk of England made allowances, blaming the strangeness of their beer for causing such drunkenness.’

  ‘The “good folk” almost fought one another for the chance to see you; except for one admirer who had no need to use force,’ he smiled, shaking his head.

  ‘Ah, the king’s representative.’

  ‘As you say, my lady, the king’s representative. His majesty of course was forbidden by protocol to meet you.’

  ‘Rules, rules, rules! He was certainly a good listener. I have never known anyone show such interest in everything I had to say. I felt so wonderfully grown up.’ She had basked in the warmth of his attentions. The memories of that day were something quite exceptional to be guarded forever.

  ‘I shall tell you a secret. When he took his leave to return to London he said, “If Catalina, the young sister of this dear lady is but half as beautiful, half as charming, half as graceful, half as intelligent, then I will have chosen the best possible bride for my son Arthur.”’

  Juana’s eyes opened wide, ‘No! You cannot mean that he was not the representative after all, but King Henry himself? And no one knew?’

  ‘And no one knew,’ he chuckled, enjoying her astonishment, tapping his lips with a finger. ‘Ah, but I see we have action at last, and about time too.’

  The heralds with their trumpets and banners bearing the quartered coat of arms, the castles and lions of Castile, had moved to the head of the group. The soldiers were forming two splendid ranks of scarlet and silver. Priests and courtiers were assembling, determined to arrange themselves acc
ording to rank and position.

  A fanfare, then another in the distance signalled the beginning of the procession.

  At a slow, stately pace they made their way towards the gates of the town.

  As they walked Juana gripped Don Fadrique's wrist, whispering, ‘Do you see Philip amongst those waiting?’

  ‘No ma'am, as yet I do not.’

  ‘Oh, Don Fadrique.’ Her grip tightened.

  ‘Wait, wait, hush now, be patient a little while,’ he urged, having to control his growing disquiet.

  A little further on and her heart began to pound mercilessly. She had tried so hard to be brave, to summon up enough courage to see her through the reception, but things were not going to plan. Something was wrong. She knew it. Why was it that they had been kept waiting for so long before commencing their procession? Why, too, were there so few people gathered to meet her? What little courage she had was dwindling fast.

  From the midst of a fairly meagre reception committee an even smaller group stepped forward. Juana gazed at the four figures in dismay. Four people: two bishops, some sort of priest and a young lady.

  But there was no one else. No one else came to join them. Just those four; no Philip. He was not there.

  Philip was not there!

  Juana’s fingers dug into Don Fadrique’s arm.

  ‘Ma chère Jeanne, nôtre soeur, sois bienvenue,’ the young lady smiled and reached out her hands to take Juana's in as warm a welcome as possible. Juana released her grip on her uncle’s arm to respond to the greeting, returning the smile; a weak and miserable effort.

  They kissed hands, one princess to another.

  ‘Dearest Juana it is so good to see you at last, so safe and well after your long journey. Welcome to your new home.’ After an awkward silence she continued, ‘I am Margaret, and I am here to greet you on behalf of my brother Philip. He is still at Innsbruck with my father. I understand that their negotiations are not yet finalised. But of that later, we must get you properly rested. We shall take you to a beautiful house not too far from here. It used to belong to my Grandfather. I love everything about it, and I am sure you will find it greatly to your liking. Everything there will be to your satisfaction. You will be able to rest in comfort while all your belongings are brought ashore. And you will have time to recover from your travels. I am so looking forward to hearing all about you and your family, especially Juan, my betrothed. I want to know everything there is to know about him …’

  Juana knew that Margaret was babbling, trying to conceal her acute embarrassment. As for herself, it was taking every ounce of strength to maintain her dignity, to hide her hurt. The insulting lack of honours; and as if that was not humiliating enough the public slight from her future husband, showing no regard for her arrival, was almost more than she could bear.

  Philip knew she was coming! He should have been here to meet her! She thought of his letter; all those words of impatience; were they nothing but lies? Why was he not here? Why was he with his father? Where were the lords who should have been here to represent him?

  She stood valiantly fighting back her tears, holding her head high, nodding and smiling as various people were presented, and deep inside there was an overwhelming loneliness.

  v v v

  She had no recollection of how she had got there, but she was alone in her bedchamber. As soon as she had heard the door close she abandoned herself to total despair. She sank to the floor weeping, howling, sobbing, until her tears and energy were spent and she lay there exhausted.

  Maria had remained in the next room, listening sadly. She understood how the day's cruel events had so wounded her mistress, and was desperately sorry for her.

  The ever faithful Don Fadrique paced the floor, he too was thinking of the events of that afternoon. He was furious. He swore, ‘By all that is Holy, what is going on here? I knew something was amiss right from the beginning. That is why I had the soldiers delay their formation. I hoped that between times that miserable little group of town clerks would have more nobility arriving to swell their ranks. But no, nothing better than a few priests, a scattering of gentlemen and ladies and the Princess Margaret,’ he growled his anger. ‘Heavens above I have known more lowly folk be offered more than that!’

  ‘It was not the reception we were expecting, that is for sure,’ agreed Maria.

  ‘And where, in Heaven's name, is Philip? What game is he playing? He has no right to be anywhere else but here. Right here; right now! How dare he show such blatant disregard, and after building up her hopes so. I know what I would like to do to the young scoundrel.’

  ‘When Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand hear of what went on today they will have something to say.’ Maria commented.

  ‘Have something to say? Their anger will know no bounds. I was so proud of Juana keeping her dignity throughout. That must have taken some doing, poor lass. She has every right to give way to her emotions now she is alone; and I say no one could blame her. But I am here, I will protect her. I will not leave her side until I see her safely married to her prince; and soon, let me tell you. By God but he has put us all in a difficult situation!’

  Zayda slipped by them, passing silently into the bedchamber. She knelt beside her mistress, drawing her close, to cradle her in her arms.

  Chapter 6

  ‘But the very next morning they brought

  letters from abroad.

  Inside the words were written in ink,

  but on the outside in blood.

  And they told that her Roldan had died,

  hunting at Roncesvalles.’

  ‘Oh, the poor lady; that is dreadful. That is exactly what happened to your poor sister Isabel’s husband,’ Maria took the book and snapped it shut. ‘I thought it was going to have a happy ending. Why did you not read that one about the lady’s beauty captivating her beloved, how he wanted its fame to be spread far and wide?’

  Maria looked at her mistress, resting so pale among the pillows of her sick bed. ‘Is it that poem,’ she spoke more brusquely than she intended, ‘or has the room taken on its afternoon chill too soon? Whatever the case the book shall be put away and I will have someone attend to the fire. No more melancholy stories and more warmth in the room; that is what we need. Truly ma'am, I do not know why you should want to go making yourself so sad with dismal tales. You are downcast enough as it is. If I were your mother I would never have allowed such books in your hands, ever.’

  Maria was no longer addressing her mistress, she was grumbling at the world. She bustled about the room thrusting the offending book out of sight, crossing to the door to demand someone come to build up the fire then hurrying back to the bed to fuss over her patient.

  She made bows in the broad red ribbons that fastened the neck and cuffs of Juana's night shift and straightened her white holland cap and red wrap. This done, she gently re-arranged the pillows and smoothed the fur-lined coverlet before sitting down once more by the bedside.

  A servant busied himself piling extra logs on the fire, pushing here, poking there, pulling and shaking them causing sudden bursts and showers of noisy red and yellow sparks. After he left the room all was quiet save for the comforting crackling in the fireplace, the ticking of the clock and the sound of rain blown by a petulant September wind spattering against the windows.

  The Royal Court of Princes was as magnificent as its title. The apartments for Juana were breathtakingly splendid; and this room, her bedchamber, was no exception. It was warm, it was comfortable; but it was more. It was luxurious, the like of which she had never seen before. The walls were hung with sumptuous tapestries all showing legendary knights returning in triumph from various feats of valour. Every piece of furniture was intricately carved. The tables held beautiful vases, bowls or figurines of exquisite porcelain. Most spectacular of all the decorations was the gold clock on the marble mantelpiece. It was in the form of a castle. Gold pennants flew from the tops of its towers and on its roof. Some knights stood idly resting on their shields
; others were on guard at the doorway. Fair damsels leaned from the windows. The minute details on each tiny figure were exquisite.

  When Juana had first entered this room several days ago she had been astonished by its splendour, visiting each part of it with little cries of delight. But it had all paled to nothing with this dreadful cold.

  ‘I feel so miserable. I want to go home. Maria, I have never known so many grey days of rain, no wonder I feel so ill. I think I do still have a fever. Oh, everything here is so different and confusing. I feel so lost, and so lonely.’ Her eyes welled with tears and she let them roll down her cheeks.

  Maria dipped a corner of a napkin into a bowl of cool water and placed it gently on Juana's temples and forehead. ‘I know ma'am, colds always seem so much worse when we are in a strange place.’

  She couldn’t help observing that in fact her mistress had not had a temperature in days; that while not denying the fact that she had indeed been indisposed, many of the cold symptoms most certainly were now imaginary. More than likely Juana was in her sick-bed seeking refuge from any further disappointments. She had never truly recovered from that dreadful business of Philip's absence from the welcoming party. That had been a dreadful shock, turning her whole world upside down. Nor had it helped matters when his sister Margaret had not been here to receive her in Antwerp. On the other hand, perhaps her mistress felt that news of her illness might reach Philip and cause him to hurry to her bedside.

  ‘But the worst is over,’ she continued, soothing Juana's brow, ‘I am positive you have no fever today.’

  ‘Are you sure? My head hurts so.’

  Maria would hear no more of it. ‘I think we should talk about our arrival here, that would make far more sense.’

  ‘You mean when Margaret failed to appear at the reception?’