Chapter Thirteen

1500

Coudenberg Castle

"T he infant in Portugal has died." Philip looked up from the scroll he'd just received from King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. Two deep frown lines plowed over his brow. "It saddens me to read such news to you, Joanna, it really does. I am so very sorry."

"Miguel, Prince of Portugal, my sister Isabella's baby son?" Joanna crossed her chest and her eyes moistened. She held her own sleeping son closer. The thought of losing baby Charles to sickness was too much to bear—losing him for any reason was terrifying and she didn't think she'd be able to breathe if his little body was drained of life.

"I am afraid so." Philip passed the scroll to his new chamberlain, Antoine de Lalaing. A small man with both a pointed nose and pointed beard and with an astoundingly sharp mind.

"God bless his soul." Margaret, Philip's sister, kissed the cross that sat at her neck. "Today and always."

"From whom does the news come?" Thomas asked, pouring five goblets of wine and then standing beside Antoine to read the scroll.

"The king and queen themselves," Philip said. "Joanna's parents. Apparently, the first messenger was killed by bandits, which is why it has taken so long for this news to arrive with us."

"Oh, what a shameful thing to happen." Joanna shook her head. "What else do they report? Are they well?"

"There is no mention of ill health in either your mother or father." Philip took the two wines Margaret offered him. "Which I know will gladden you, dear wife."

"Yes. It does." She sighed. "It has been so long since I have seen my beloved parents. Years now."

"In which case their instructions, written on this scroll, will please you." Philip passed Joanna a goblet and sat at her side on their favorite seat in their solar.

She set the drink on the table. Wine didn't suit her palate when she was pregnant and she still had a few months to go with her third child, with whom she'd fallen pregnant not too long after Charles had been born. "What instructions are they?"

"Don't you see?" Philip said. "You are, after all, an intelligent person."

"See what?"

"You are now the heir presumptive of the Crown of Castile." He paused. "Princess of Asturias. One day to be queen."

"A noble title and future, indeed," Antoine said, re-rolling the scroll.

She nodded slowly. Yes. She did know that. It just hadn't registered, as she'd grieved her tiny nephew whom she'd never met but had loved all the same. "Yes. I am aware of my new title and its weight."

"And…" Philip said. "How do you feel?"

"Sad that I had to lose a dear brother and beloved sister to be in this position, not to mention a stillborn niece and infant nephew." She reached for Margaret's hand and squeezed. "I would wish them well and happy and on this Earth more than having any title."

"I know you would, dearest sister," Margaret said, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

Philip knocked back his wine and strode to the window. He stared out with his back to the room.

"You said the instructions would please me," Joanna said. There was something about his stance that was prickly. What else was written on the scroll?

He turned. "We are to travel to the kingdom of Castile, where you will receive fealty. You as princess and I as your consort."

"Consort?" She nodded as realization set in. No wonder he was tetchy all of a sudden. "And this displeases you, Philip." She didn't mean it as a question. "Your title."

"I am already Prince of Castile." He jabbed his thumb onto his chest. "As you and everyone knows, except, it seems, your parents. That title came to me when your brother died and there was no one but me to take on the role."

Joanna nodded. This had been a sharp subject for many moons. One she'd avoided because seeing her husband vexed and irritated was one of her least favorite things to witness.

"And now they give me the title of ‘consort'?" He huffed and his jaw tensed. "I will not have it. I will not."

"While my father is alive, you have no choice." She shrugged.

"How can you care so little about this snub I must endure?"

"I do care, my love." She sighed, tiredness coming over her. "We will sort this matter out when we arrive in Castile."

"Which will not be for some time." Thomas held up the scroll. "They have requested that you do not travel, Joanna, until you have given birth."

She passed the sleeping Charles to Margaret and sat back with her hand on her belly. "Can you give him to Beatriz for me?"

"Of course. Right away." Margaret held Charles tenderly and slipped from the room.

"I will be quite able to travel if we leave soon," Joanna said. "Before my belly gets too big."

"No." Philip shook his head. "This is one matter your parents and I do agree on. I do not wish you or our child to be rattled around for weeks on end. Goodness only knows what that could do to you both and I simply won't risk it."

A part of her thrilled at his desire to protect her. She adored it when her husband showed that side of himself.

"We will wait and when we do travel…" He bit on his bottom lip.

"Go on?" Joanna said, wondering why his eyes were alive with plotting and scheming.

"We will not travel by boat, as you hated that so much, my love." Once again, he sat and took her hand. "You've talked of it often, the awful Bay of Biscay. How sick it made you. How terrible the storms were. How you wanted to die rather than endure the sickness of the sea."

"I can vouch for that!" Margaret said firmly. "Awful way to travel."

"But it is the only way," Joanna said, "France is too dangerous for us to pass through."

"Ah, but it is not." Philip grinned. "King Louis himself has invited us to spend time with him at court."

"At court? At French court?" Her eyes widened, hardly believing what she was hearing. "That would be asking for death. He cannot be trusted. He is a snake in the grass waiting to bite."

"He has been nothing but trustworthy thus far. No snake-like qualities."

"How can you say that?" She shook her head. "He is waging war in Italy and—"

"And we are not Italian." Philip shrugged.

"You are the son of the King of the Romans." She tapped her temple. "Or did you forget that?"

"Of course not." Philip stood and paced to the fireplace, tossing another log on, even though it was not cold.

"The king and queen will not be happy if you put their heir and daughter into such a precarious position," Antoine said.

"I agree," Thomas added.

"It is I who will decide what is safe for my wife." Philip turned and set his hands on his hips. "She is mine, not theirs."

"Yes, my love, that is true." Joanna stood and went to Philip, slipping her arms around his waist. "I am yours. So do not upset yourself."

He hugged her back. "I am not upset, just determined, for this will be good for us, to have King Louis's favor. Very good. We must have strong friends and neighbors."

"But what if he does not give his favor? What if he hurts us? Kills me to spite my parents… his enemies?"

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure?" She looked up at him. The thought of entering the lion's den didn't appeal to her in the slightest. And what of her children? What if he took out his wrath on them? A sudden thought popped into her head. "Are you making deals with France? Behind my back? Behind the backs of the king and queen and your father?"

Philip looked as though he'd been slapped, such was his shock. "No, of course not."

"I don't believe you." She tilted her chin and stepped backward, still studying his face. "You are a nominal vassal, after all."

"Do you think I would do such a thing? Do you think I am crazy?" His eyes were wide.

"I would never accuse you of being loco , Philip. It is a cruel thing to do to an intelligent person."

"I agree."

"And do you also agree that the throne of Castile is at stake just by my being in France?"

"I do."

"So how can you know I will be safe? How can you possibly guarantee that unless you have made deals?"

"Because, my love, as you pointed out, my father is the King of the Romans." He took her hands in his and squeezed them gently. "Do you really think Louis will risk upsetting Maximilian? Which would be the case if you were harmed. And to anger the King of the Romans would bring hellfire upon him, of that I know and I am sure he knows it too."

She thought about it and her mood mellowed. "Your father and King Louis signed a peace treaty, didn't they?"

"Indeed. So I think we will be quite safe. In fact, I know you will be quite safe. You might even enjoy a taste of French court."

She huffed. "I am sure it will be garish. With nothing to eat for the children. Eleanor is quite fussy these days."

"We will not travel with the children."

"What? How can you even—?"

"My love." He cupped her cheeks tightly. "It would be cruel to put them through such an ordeal. They will not understand the nature of travel and the arduousness of it."

"But…"

"They will be well cared for by Margaret until we can send for them. When the babe is weaned."

Much as the thought of not being with her children hurt Joanna, she did see the sense in it. And it would only be for a short time, surely.

Belmonte would travel with her, of course. "And Belmonte," she said. "My parents will insist that he and his men escort me through enemy territory."

"I have no doubts we will receive word of such as soon as they hear of our plans." He rolled his eyes and released her cheeks. "They do have opinions on everything, after all."

"Philip." She frowned. "When we meet my parents you will have to be utterly charming."

"Am I ever anything else?"

"At times, yes, when you do not get your way." She paused, testing the waters. "You angered them when you claimed John's title for your own. That is why you are to be named ‘consort' and not ‘prince.'"

His jaw tightened and he stepped away, picking up a small brooch and examining it closely, even though it was one he'd seen many times.

Joanna waited for him to speak.

Eventually, he set his attention on her again. "As Thomas here bears witness, I will get you safely to Castile, my love, so that you can become the official heir and I your consort." He tipped his chin. "That is my promise to you."

*

Several weeks later, another scroll arrived from Ferdinand and Isabella. This time, it was Joanna who broke the royal seal and read it first. As soon as she'd finished, she passed it to Philip, who snatched it from her.

"As I suspected," he said, looking at her with a frown. "Your parents are not happy about you traveling through France."

"That is to be expected."

"And what is more, Belmonte is to write to them regularly with news of our journey."

"Again, that is to be expected." Joanna rubbed her growing baby bump and then stood. She spread dill butter on bread and took a bite. It was her favorite snack of late.

"I wish they would trust me to care for you." He put the scroll down and took her hand. "I am as capable a husband as I am a ruler, am I not?"

"Yes. You are a perfect husband and I love you very much."

"And I you." He kissed her tenderly.

"There is news of my sister Catherine too," Joanna said, helping herself to more bread and butter. "Did you read that bit?"

"Indeed, it seems she has found herself preparing to depart for England already."

"She is fifteen and has been betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales, for some time. I am sure he will find her most agreeable."

"And we should hope that he will be a true and loving husband."

"That is what she so deserves. Little Catherine is a delight. Curious and talented at many things, and also a dear and gentle soul."

"Though if anything like her elder sister, gentle but intelligent and strong of will." Philip poured wine and took a sip.

"You flatter me." She laughed. "But it is a truth."

She studied his relaxed posture and took a deep breath. "So when this child is born, if I am so intelligent, you will allow me to attend council and meet with the Estates General about political matters here?"

He turned to the window, his fingers curling around the base of his goblet. "We will be traveling, my love, or had you forgotten?"

"I had not forgotten, but I know that we will return to court at some point. And if I am to be ruler in Asturias, then surely, I should be ruler here too."

" I am ruler here." He spun to her. "Do not forget that I have inherited everything around you from my ancestors."

"I could not forget that, and I am doing my duty by giving you heirs to pass all of this on to." She tipped her chin.

His eyes dipped to her belly. "For that, I am grateful, and every day I thank God for His benevolent gifts to us."

"I just wish," she said, walking to him, "that you would see me more of an equal in state matters. I had a good education and knowledge that could benefit you if you'd let me share it."

"My dearest Joanna." He smiled and shook his head. "Do not think that I do not know of your wisdom. It shines from your eyes. But your duty"—he stroked her belly—"right now is to give birth to a healthy child and emerge from labor healthy yourself. It is an arduous task and it fears me each time you go through it. Your pain is my pain. Your screams scar my soul."

She hated seeing the concern on his handsome features. "I am up to the task. It is hard work, exhausting and painful beyond all imagination, but I have proved that I am fertile and able to produce fine sons, have I not?"

"And that is all I want you to concentrate on for now. You do not need the added anxiety of matters of the state. It would not be good for you or the baby."

Joanna sighed, though she tried to suppress it. Being a mother was all well and good, and she was relieved that she fell pregnant easily and without much sickness at the beginning. But having babies didn't mean she couldn't think. Couldn't be a positive contributor around the political table. And now that she was heir presumptive to Spain, it was a task that would indeed fall to her one day.

If only her husband could see that too.