Spain for the Sovereigns (43 page)

Beatriz laughed. ‘It is true,’ she said. ‘I shall see that in a few months’ time more money is given you. Nor shall I allow the Queen to forget you.’

‘How can I express my thanks?’

Beatriz smiled almost gently. ‘By remaining firm in your resolve. By holding yourself in readiness. It may be necessary for you to follow the Court when it leaves Cordova. I shall arrange that you shall suffer no expense from these journeys. The Queen has given her consent to the proposal that you shall be provided with free lodging. You see, Señor Colon, we are your friends.’

Cristobal looked from one to the other.

‘My friends,’ he said, ‘your faith in me makes me a happy man.’

For a few months his spirits were high. He had friends in high places. More money was paid to him; but the war with Granada went on in a series of sharp attacks and skirmishes. Cristobal knew that it would be long before it was brought to an end.

He would sit at dusk with Beatrix de Arana, looking out on the little street, always hoping that there would be a knock on the door to summon him to Court.

Once as they sat in the darkened room he said to her: ‘This is how it has always been. I wait here as I waited in Lisbon. Here I am happier because you are here, because I know my little Diego is being well cared for in his monastery. Sometimes I think I shall spend my whole life waiting.’

‘And if you do, Cristobal, could you not be happy? Have you not been happy here with me?’

‘It is my destiny to sail the seas,’ he said. ‘It is my life. It sounds ungrateful to you who have been so good to me. Let me say this, that there is only one thing that has made these months of waiting tolerable: my life with you. But for this urge within me I could settle here and live happily with you for the rest of my days.’

‘But the time will come when you will go away, Cristobal.’

‘I shall come back to you.’

‘But you will be long away, and how can I be sure that you will come back? There are dangers on the seas.’

‘You must not be unhappy, Beatriz. I could not bear to think that I have brought unhappiness to you who have brought so much happiness to me.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘remember this. When you sail away – as you must – I shall not be alone.’

He started and sought to look into her face, but it was too dark for him to see it clearly.

‘I shall have my child then, Cristobal,’ she said softly, ‘your child, our child.’

Chapter XII

I
sabella sat at her sewing with her eldest daughter, the Infanta Isabella. She was conscious that now and then the girl was casting covert glances at her, and that she was on the verge of tears.

Isabella herself was fighting back her emotion. She does not know it, she told herself, but the parting is going to be even harder for me to bear than it is for her. She is young and will quickly adjust herself to her new surroundings . . . whereas I . . . I shall always miss her.

‘Mother . . .’ said the Infanta at length.

‘My dear,’ murmured Isabella; she put aside her needlework and beckoned to her daughter. The Infanta threw hers aside and ran to her mother to kneel at her feet and bury her face in her lap.

Isabella stroked her daughter’s hair.

‘My dearest,’ she said, ‘you will be happy, you know. You must not fret.’

‘But to go away from you all! To go to strangers . . .’

‘It is the fate of Infantas, my darling.’

‘You did not, Mother.’

‘No, I stayed here, but many efforts were made to send me away. If my brother Alfonso had lived, doubtless I should have married into a strange country. So much hangs on chance, my dearest; and we must accept what comes to us. We must not fight against our destinies.’

‘Oh, Mother, how fortunate you were, to stay in your home and marry my father.’

Isabella thought fleetingly of the first time she had seen Ferdinand; young, handsome, virile. She thought of the ideal she had built up and the shock of discovering that she had married a sensual man. She had come to her marriage hoping for a great deal and had received less than she hoped for. She prayed that her daughter would find in marriage something more satisfying than she had thought possible.

‘Your Alonso will be as beloved by you as Ferdinand is by me,’ Isabella told her daughter.

‘Mother, must I marry at all? Why should I not stay here with you?’

‘It is very necessary that you should marry, my darling. A marriage between you and the heir to the throne of Portugal could bring great stability to our two countries. You see, not very long ago there was war between us. It was at the time when I came to the throne and Portugal supported the claims of La Beltraneja. The threat of La Beltraneja has always been with us, for she still lives in Portugal. Now Alonso will one day be King of Portugal, and if you marry him, my darling, you will be its Queen; our two countries would be united and this threat removed. That is what we have to think of when making our marriages – not what good it will bring to us, but what good it will bring to our countries. But do not fret, my child. There is much to be arranged yet, and these matters are rarely settled quickly.’

The Infanta shivered. ‘But they are settled . . . in time, Mother.’

‘Let us enjoy all the time that is left to us.’

The Infanta threw her arms about her mother and clung to her.

As she embraced her daughter, Isabella heard the sounds of arrival below, and she put the Infanta from her, rose and went to the window. She saw a party of soldiers from Ferdinand’s army, and she prepared to receive them immediately because she guessed that they brought news from the camp.

Ferdinand had taken possession of Velez Malaga, which was situated some five or six leagues from the great port of Malaga itself; and the King was now concentrating all his forces on the capture of this town.

The Christian armies were before Malaga, which was perhaps the most important town – next to Granada itself – in Moorish territory. It was a strongly defended fortress, rich and prosperous. The Moors were proud of Malaga, this beautiful city of handsome buildings with its fertile vineyards, olive groves and gardens of oranges and pomegranates.

They were determined to fight to the death to preserve it; thus Isabella knew that it would be no easy task for Ferdinand to take it.

Therefore she was impatient to hear what news these messengers brought from the front.

She commanded that they be brought to her presence immediately, and she did not dismiss the Infanta. She wished her daughter to know something of state matters; she did not want to send her, an ignoramus, into a strange country.

She took Ferdinand’s letters and read that the siege of Malaga had begun and that he feared it would be long and arduous. There was no hope of an easy victory. If the Moors lost the port it would be a turning point in the war, and they knew this. They were therefore as determined to hold Malaga as the Christians were to take it.

The city had been placed in the hands of a certain Hamet Zeli, a general of outstanding courage and integrity, and he had sworn that he would hold Malaga for the Moors to the death.

Ferdinand wrote: ‘And I have determined to take it, no matter what the cost. But this will give some indication of the man we have to deal with. It was brought to my notice that many of the rich townsfolk were ready to make peace with me, in order to save Malaga from destruction. I sent Cadiz to offer concessions to Hamet Zeli and the most important of the citizens if they would surrender Malaga to me. I know that many of the burghers would have accepted my offer, but Hamet Zeli intervened. “There is no bribe the Christians could offer me,” he retorted, “which would be big enough to make me betray my trust.” That is the kind of man with whom we have to deal.

‘Isabella, there is certain friction in our camp which causes me anxiety. There have been rumours of plague in some of the surrounding villages. These are unfounded, but I believe them to have been set in motion to distract our troops. There has been a shortage of water; and, I regret to say, several of the men have deserted.

‘I can think of only one person who could stop this decadence. Yourself. Isabella, I am asking you to come to the camp. Your presence here will lift the spirits of the soldiers. You would give heart to them and, when the news reaches the people of Malaga that you are with us, I feel sure that their anxieties would be increased. They will know that we are determined to take Malaga. Isabella, leave everything and come to our camp before Malaga with all speed.’

Isabella smiled as she read this dispatch.

She looked at the Infanta, who was watching her with curiosity.

‘I am leaving immediately for the camp before Malaga,’ she said. ‘The King requests my presence there.’

‘Mother,’ said the Infanta, ‘you said that we should not be parted . . . that there may not be much time left to us. Dearest Mother, please stay here with us.’

Isabella looked at her eldest daughter and said: ‘But of course I must go. There is work to do in the camp; but do not fret, my daughter. We shall not be parted, for you are coming with me.’

Isabella arrived at the camp, accompanied by the Infanta and several of the ladies of the Court, among whom was Beatriz de Bobadilla.

They were greeted with enthusiasm, and the effect on the morale of the army was immediate.

Isabella’s dignity never failed to have its effect, and when she turned several tents into a hospital and, with her women, cared for the sick and wounded, there was no doubt that her coming had saved a dangerous situation. Those soldiers who were wearying of the long war, who had been telling themselves that they could never conquer the well-fortified city of Malaga, now changed their minds. They were eager to perform feats of valour in order to win the respect of the Queen and her ladies.