therefore to contemplate the discomfiture of the haughty Isabella when she found herself ousted from the throne by the man whom once she had so recklessly refused.
He was smiling as he took Joanna’s hand, and those assembled, led by Villena and Arevalo, proceeded to declare Alfonso and Joanna Sovereigns of Castile.
As soon as the dispensation from the Pope arrived they would be married. Joanna prayed that the dispensation might be delayed.
In the meantime, the betrothal was celebrated, and on this and all occasions she must sit side by side with Alfonso and accept his tender attentions.
After some days Alfonso and his army, Joanna travelling with them, left Placencia for Arevalo.
Being aware of the sad state of the Castilian armies and that Isabella and Ferdinand had inherited a bankrupt state, Alfonso anticipated a victory which would be easy to complete.
At Arevalo he paused in his journey, and it seemed as though he halted there to prepare himself for the attack.
Isabella and Ferdinand were together when news was brought to them of Alfonso’s arrival at Placencia and of his betrothal to Joanna.
Ferdinand received the news gloomily. ‘This means he is prepared to risk his armies in her cause,’ he said.
‘She is his niece,’ cried Isabella, ‘and but a child.’
‘What cares he for either fact! He thinks she will bring him Castile and, if he is successful, depend upon it the Pope will not long deny him the dispensation he needs.’
‘ If he is successful. He shall not be successful! I promise you that.’
‘Isabella, what do you know of war? And how can we prevent him?’
‘I know,’ she said, her eyes flashing, ‘that I was born to be Queen of Castile.’
‘Well, you have had your brief glory.’
‘I have done nothing of what I intend to do. I know I shall succeed.’
Ferdinand took her gently by the arm and led her to a table on which a map was spread.
He pointed to South Castile. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘the friends of Alfonso are waiting. They are numerous and they have men and arms at their disposal. Arevalo, Villena, Cadiz . . . they are his men. They will give all they have to drive us from the throne and set up Joanna and Alfonso. He has only to turn south tomorrow and there traitors will be ready for him. Town after town will freely give itself into his hands. And we . . . we shall find ourselves unable to attack, for on his march through Castile he will grow richer and richer as important towns pass into his possession.’
Ferdinand,’ Isabella reproved him, ‘I do not understand you. Have we not our friends?’
‘There are waverers.’
‘Then they shall cease to be waverers.’
‘They will cease to be when they see the might of Alfonso’s army!’
‘They must be converted to our cause.’
‘But who shall convert them?’
‘I shall. I . . . their Queen.’
Ferdinand looked at her with mild surprise; there were times when he felt that even now he did not know Isabella. She seemed so dedicated to her cause, so certain of her ability to fight and win in this unequal struggle, that Ferdinand believed her.
It was at times like this that he forgave her for insisting on her supremacy, when he was glad that he had not returned to Aragon in a fit of pique because she had been determined to be supreme in Castile.
‘You forget, Isabella,’ he said gently, ‘you are in no fit state to conduct a campaign. You have our unborn son to think of.’
‘It is because of our unborn son that I must be doubly sure that none shall rob me of the throne,’ she told him.
Isabella had lived through many hazards, but she felt that never had she faced danger so great as that which threatened during the months that followed. The days were full and she worked far into the night. She spent a great deal of time at prayer, for she was sure that she had previously been granted Divine protection and that it would be afforded her again.
Yet, even while she prayed, she never
He was smiling as he took Joanna’s hand, and those assembled, led by Villena and Arevalo, proceeded to declare Alfonso and Joanna Sovereigns of Castile.
As soon as the dispensation from the Pope arrived they would be married. Joanna prayed that the dispensation might be delayed.
In the meantime, the betrothal was celebrated, and on this and all occasions she must sit side by side with Alfonso and accept his tender attentions.
After some days Alfonso and his army, Joanna travelling with them, left Placencia for Arevalo.
Being aware of the sad state of the Castilian armies and that Isabella and Ferdinand had inherited a bankrupt state, Alfonso anticipated a victory which would be easy to complete.
At Arevalo he paused in his journey, and it seemed as though he halted there to prepare himself for the attack.
Isabella and Ferdinand were together when news was brought to them of Alfonso’s arrival at Placencia and of his betrothal to Joanna.
Ferdinand received the news gloomily. ‘This means he is prepared to risk his armies in her cause,’ he said.
‘She is his niece,’ cried Isabella, ‘and but a child.’
‘What cares he for either fact! He thinks she will bring him Castile and, if he is successful, depend upon it the Pope will not long deny him the dispensation he needs.’
‘ If he is successful. He shall not be successful! I promise you that.’
‘Isabella, what do you know of war? And how can we prevent him?’
‘I know,’ she said, her eyes flashing, ‘that I was born to be Queen of Castile.’
‘Well, you have had your brief glory.’
‘I have done nothing of what I intend to do. I know I shall succeed.’
Ferdinand took her gently by the arm and led her to a table on which a map was spread.
He pointed to South Castile. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘the friends of Alfonso are waiting. They are numerous and they have men and arms at their disposal. Arevalo, Villena, Cadiz . . . they are his men. They will give all they have to drive us from the throne and set up Joanna and Alfonso. He has only to turn south tomorrow and there traitors will be ready for him. Town after town will freely give itself into his hands. And we . . . we shall find ourselves unable to attack, for on his march through Castile he will grow richer and richer as important towns pass into his possession.’
Ferdinand,’ Isabella reproved him, ‘I do not understand you. Have we not our friends?’
‘There are waverers.’
‘Then they shall cease to be waverers.’
‘They will cease to be when they see the might of Alfonso’s army!’
‘They must be converted to our cause.’
‘But who shall convert them?’
‘I shall. I . . . their Queen.’
Ferdinand looked at her with mild surprise; there were times when he felt that even now he did not know Isabella. She seemed so dedicated to her cause, so certain of her ability to fight and win in this unequal struggle, that Ferdinand believed her.
It was at times like this that he forgave her for insisting on her supremacy, when he was glad that he had not returned to Aragon in a fit of pique because she had been determined to be supreme in Castile.
‘You forget, Isabella,’ he said gently, ‘you are in no fit state to conduct a campaign. You have our unborn son to think of.’
‘It is because of our unborn son that I must be doubly sure that none shall rob me of the throne,’ she told him.
Isabella had lived through many hazards, but she felt that never had she faced danger so great as that which threatened during the months that followed. The days were full and she worked far into the night. She spent a great deal of time at prayer, for she was sure that she had previously been granted Divine protection and that it would be afforded her again.
Yet, even while she prayed, she never
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