Daughters of Spain - Plaidy Jean - Страница 40

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Catalina embraced her sister-in-law. ‘How I wish that you would stay with us.’

‘For how long?’ asked Margaret. ‘My father will be making plans for a new marriage for me. It is better that I go.’

‘You have not been very happy here,’ said Maria quietly.

‘It was not the fault of the King and Queen, nor of any of you. You have done everything possible to make me happy. Farewell, my sisters. I shall think of you often.’

Catalina shivered. ‘How life changes!’ she said. ‘How can we know where any of us will be this time next year … or even this time next month?’

Catalina was terrified every time envoys came from England. She knew that her mother was putting off the day when her youngest daughter would leave her home; but it could not be long delayed. Catalina was too fatalistic to believe that was possible.

‘Farewell, farewell,’ said Margaret.

And that day she was on her way to the coast, to board the ship which would take her back to Flanders.

Isabella’s great delight was her little grandson. He was too young as yet to accompany her on all her journeys throughout the country so, after his acceptance by the Cortes of Castile and Aragon, he was left with his nurses in the Alhambra at Granada. Isabella often discussed his future with Ferdinand, and it was her desire that as soon as he was old enough he should always be with them.

‘He cannot learn his state duties too early,’ she said; but what she really meant was that she was not going to be separated from the child more than she could possibly help.

Ferdinand smiled indulgently. He was ready to pass over Isabella’s little weaknesses as long as they did not interfere with his plans.

The Court was on its way to Seville, and naturally Isabella would call first at Granada to see her little Miguel.

Catalina, who was with the party, was delighted to note her mother’s recovery from despair, and she herself thought as tenderly of Miguel as Isabella did. Miguel was the means of making the Queen happy again; therefore Catalina loved him dearly.

Leisurely the Court moved southwards, and with them travelled the Archbishop of Toledo.

Ximenes had been deeply affected by the death of Tomas de Torquemada. There was a man who had written his name large across a page of Spanish history. He had clearly in his heyday been the most important man in his country, for he had guided the King and Queen and in the days of his strength had had his will.

It was due to him that the Inquisition was now a power in the land and that there was not a man, woman or child who did not dread the knock on the door in the dead of night, the entry of the alguazils and the dungeons of torture.

That was well, thought Ximenes, for only through torture could man come to God. And for those who had denied God the greatest torture man could devise was not bad enough. If these people burned at the stake, it was but a foretaste of the punishment which God would give them. What were twenty minutes at the stake compared with an eternity in Hell?

Riding south towards Granada, Ximenes was conscious of a great desire: to do, for Spain and the Faith, work which could be compared with that of Torquemada.

He thought of those who were in this retinue, and it seemed to him that the conduct of so many left much to be desired.

Ferdinand was ever reaching for material gain; Isabella’s weakness was her children. Even now she had Catalina beside her. The girl was nearly fifteen years old and still she remained in Spain. She was marriageable, and the King of England grew impatient. But for her own gratification – and perhaps because the girl pleaded with her – Isabella kept her in Spain.

Ximenes thought grimly that her affection for the new heir, young Miguel, must approach almost idolatry. The Queen should keep a sharp curb on her affections. They overshadowed her devotion to God and duty.

Catalina had withdrawn herself as far as possible from the stern-faced Archbishop. She read his thoughts and they terrified her. She hoped he would not accompany them to Seville; she was sure that, if he did, he would do his utmost to persuade her mother to send her with all speed to England.

Granada, which some had called the most beautiful city in Spain, was before them. There it lay, a fairy-tale city against the background of the snow-tipped peaks of the Sierra Nevada. High above the town was the Alhambra, that Moorish Palace, touched by a rosy glow, a miracle of architecture, strong as a fortress, yet so daintily and so delicately fashioned and carved, as Catalina knew.

There was a saying that God gives His chosen people the means to live in Granada; and Catalina could believe that was so.

She hoped that Granada would bring happiness to them all, that the Queen would be so delighted with her little grandson that she would forget to mourn, that there would be no news from England; and that, for the sunny days ahead, her life and that of her family would be as peacefully serene as this scene of snowy mountains, of rippling streams, the water of which sparkled like diamonds and was as clear as crystals.

She caught the eye of the Archbishop fixed upon her and felt a tremor of alarm.

She need not have worried. He was not thinking of her.

He was saying to himself: It is indeed our most beautiful city. It is not surprising that the Moors clung to it until the last. But what a tragedy that so many of its inhabitants should be those who deny the true faith. What sin that we should allow these Moors to practise their pagan rites under that blue sky, in the most beautiful city in Spain.

It seemed to Ximenes that the ghost of Torquemada rode beside him. Torquemada could not rest while such blatant sin existed in this fair city of Spain.

Ximenes was certain, as he rode with the Court into Granada, that the mantle of Torquemada was being placed about his shoulders.

While Isabella was happy in the nursery of her grandson, Ximenes lost no time in examining the conditions which existed in Granada.

The two most influential men in the city were Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, the Count of Tendilla, and Fray Fernando de Talavera, Archbishop of Granada; and one of Ximenes’s first acts was to summon these men to his presence.

He surveyed them with a little impatience. They were, he believed, inclined to be complacent. They were delighted at the peaceful conditions prevailing in this city, which, they congratulated themselves, was in itself near the miraculous. This was a conquered city; a great part of its population consisted of Moors who followed their own faith; yet these Moors lived side by side with Christians and there was no strife between them.

Who would have thought, Ximenes demanded of himself, that this could possibly be a conquered city!

‘I confess,’ he told his visitors, ‘that the conditions here in Granada give me some concern.’

Tendilla showed his surprise. ‘I am sure, my lord Archbishop,’ he said, ‘that when you have seen more of the affairs in this city you will change your mind.’

Tendilla, one of the illustrious Mendoza family, could not help but be conscious of the comparatively humble origins of the Archbishop of Toledo. Tendilla lived graciously and it disturbed him to have about him those who did not. Talavera, who had been a Hieronymite monk and whose piety was indisputable, was yet a man of impeccable manners. Tendilla considered Talavera something of a bigot but it seemed to him that such an attitude was essential in a man of the Church; and in his tolerance Tendilla had not found it difficult to overlook that in Talavera which did not fit in with his own views. They had worked well together since the conquest of Granada, and the city of Granada was a prosperous and happy city under their rule.

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