Chapter Seventeen

J oanna stood before her parents, her heart pounding and her skin tingling with anticipation. Her gown felt strangely heavy and she'd just beaten down a rise of nausea she'd thought had passed with this pregnancy.

The king and queen sat sternly on their thrones, around them noblemen. Clergy and courtiers looked on with their lips set in flat tight lines.

"Mother. Father," Joanna said, then she cleared her throat. "It is good to see you after so long."

Isabella stood and smoothed her hands over her slim waist as though checking for creases in the perfect embroidery of her bodice. She stepped down from the plinth, her footsteps silent on the soft, red rug.

When she reached Joanna she took her hands and squeezed. Her eyes misted. "My darling daughter, you have been missed greatly. We thank God for your safe return."

Something in Joanna melted and she hugged her mother, pressing into her and having to hold in a sob. She could feel love in the urgent tightness of her mother's embrace, the cling of her arms, the hitch of her breath.

Eventually, she pulled back. "Mother, I would like to introduce my husband, Philip of Austria, Archduke of Burgundy and the Low Countries, grandson of the late Holy Roman Emperor and son of the Holy Roman King." She gestured to Philip, who stood tall and proud at her side dressed in traditional Burgundian court tunic and breeches paired with shiny, black boots.

She had never witnessed such a handsome man. He grew more so with age.

"Philip." Isabella reached for his hand and clasped it between her palms. "Finally, we meet the father of our grandchildren. We welcome you to Spain and thank you for getting our daughter here safely."

"Despite having journeyed through the land of our foe." Ferdinand's deep voice rang out as he stood. His crown glinted in a ray of sunlight as he stepped down from the platform and came to stand at his wife's side. He studied Philip.

Philip held his gaze.

"It is said that the Habsburgs are men of strong bones." Ferdinand rubbed his chin. "Is this also true of my grandson, Charles?"

"He is a fine, strong boy," Philip said. "He will make a great ruler and fine warrior and in turn make us all proud."

Ferdinand nodded. "And where is Belmonte?"

"Here, Your Majesty." Belmonte stepped from the shadows. For once, there were no knights at his side. Here, they were not needed. Joanna had an entire army outside the castle walls who would protect her and her family.

"Ah good. Tell me, how was the journey?"

"Long and arduous."

"And King Louis?" King Ferdinand turned his attention to Joanna.

"He was…" She paused and sought the right word. "Pliant."

"‘Pliant'?" Ferdinand's eyebrows raised.

So did Philip's.

"Whatever do you mean?" Queen Isabella asked.

"I believe he can be made to see reason, persuaded, molded."

"You do?" Philip said.

"Yes, for didn't I skillfully show him that I was a royal Spanish subject and his equal? It only took a few moments for him to accept all that I was."

"Is this true?" Ferdinand asked Belmonte.

"It is, Your Majesty." Belmonte bobbed his head.

"Well, my dear." Ferdinand reached for Joanna's face, cupping it in his hands. "I congratulate your political skills and your patriotism." He kissed her brow. "We are glad to have you home, our beautiful daughter."

"Thank you, Father." Joanna breathed in his familiar scent and when she looked into his dark eyes flashing with love and pride, she really did feel like she'd come home.

"And with child." Isabella nodded at Joanna's stomach. "I have had enough of my own to recognize the gentle swell of a few months gone."

"You are right." Philip set his hand on the small of Joanna's back. "This will be our fourth, and another son, I am sure of it."

"We will pray for that, and for our daughter's safe passage through childbirth." Isabella kissed her cross and sent her eyes heavenward. "That must always be prayed for." Her eyes moistened again.

"Oh, Mother." Joanna took her hands. "I am so sorry for your loss, for all of our losses."

"Thank you. I take comfort from God, but…" She sniffed. "I so miss Isabella, oh, and poor John, my angel. I miss them so much. And John, he still had so much to do as Prince of Asturias and then one day King of all of Spain." She gestured to a courtier, who rushed over with a brass tray holding a scroll.

She took it and unrolled it. "I have been given a poem, a wonderful poem that brings me comfort. Let me read it." She unfurled the scroll. "‘Sad, joyless Spain, everyone should weep for you. Barren, devoid of happiness that shall never return. Storms, sorrows, pains came and took residence in you. God sowed pleasures in you so pains would grow.'"

"Mother." Joanna gently took the scroll. "It is beautiful, a wonderful piece of work. But should we also think of happy times? Philip and I are here now."

"Yes." Isabella swallowed. "I will try to brighten for the festivities." She smiled, though it was stiff. "For you must receive fealty from the Cortes of Castile as Princess of Asturias, heiress to the Castilian throne, as soon as possible or the gown will not fit."

"And Philip, my wonderful, devoted, educated husband." Joanna turned to her husband with a smile and pressed her hand over her heart. "My love, my reason for breathing, he will also receive fealty as Prince of Asturias?"

The king cleared his throat and folded his arms.

"Father?" Joanna said.

Ferdinand set his attention on Philip. "You will be Consort Don Philip."

Philip's brow creased and his eyes narrowed slightly. Likely only Joanna would notice it, but she could see his mood shift to darkness. He'd felt sure, and she'd reassured him, that on arrival in Spanish court, his title would be amended.

"Father, don't you see?" she said, her stomach sinking. "I need a prince at my side, it is only right and proper."

"We do not know Philip yet," Isabella said. "Allow us time. He has just walked onto our land."

"But, Mother, he is my husband, the father of future Spanish kings. Please, I beg you." She clutched her hands beneath her chin. She wanted this so desperately for her husband. "I beg you to reconsider before the ceremony."

"That will not happen," Ferdinand directed at Philip. "And I should tell you I have heard from your father, His Majesty Maximilian, this last week."

"You have?" Philip seemed surprised.

"Yes. I wrote to him suggesting that your sister, Margaret, be wed to the Duke of Savoy. It seems he also thinks it would be a good match."

"But…why?" Philip shook his head. His right fist clenched. "She is taking care of our children and—"

"The union makes good sense. It strengthens the borders against France." Ferdinand paused. "Your father and I think alike—we see the benefit in such marriages and treaties. Until you, my new son, can prove that you also think this way, I have to title you ‘consort.' Surely, you understand."

Philip said nothing, though later, when they were alone, Joanna was sure he'd have plenty to say.

"Let's presume you to be an apprentice," Ferdinand said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Undertaking an apprenticeship for becoming a prince."

"France is pushing ever closer to Naples," Philip said, folding his arms and rocking back on his heels as though readying for a long conversation. "I spoke at length with King Louis about his intentions."

"Oh?" Ferdinand said.

"Indeed, he believes French monarchs have ruled this region for many years, which is why he wishes to claim it. And the help he is receiving from Milan is substantial." Philip paused, seeming to wait for Ferdinand to comment. He didn't. "I believe it would be pertinent for us to discuss war strategy, man to man, monarch to monarch," Philip went on. "We do, after all, have the same enemies, and the same goals."

"Do we?" Ferdinand raised his eyebrows.

A tendon in Philip's jaw flickered, the way it always did when he was growing frustrated or angry. "I do not understand why you doubt me, and if that is the case, why did you marry off your daughter to a Habsburg?"

"It was an astute choice when she wasn't heir presumptive. Now…"

"Now what, Father?" Joanna squeezed in close to Philip and took his hand. "Has it really changed things so much? I thought you'd be happy that we are in love, that we have provided heirs, that our people think highly of us, and our lands prosper despite our loathsome neighbor."

"Yes, it has changed everything," Isabella said. "And much as we are delighted to see you both so in love, and congratulate ourselves on the match, we must be wary of a man with no Spanish blood laying claim to our throne."

"We married before God, a union that does give me Spanish blood now that Joanna is my wife," Philip said.

"I appreciate your pious view," Isabella said. "But we have a reputation to protect and would not like to be thought of as reckless with titles and crowns."

"Indeed," Ferdinand said. "Already, there are rumblings that a consort from a vassal French state is a traitorous move."

"I will swear my allegiance." Philip set his hands in prayer. "That is my God's honest truth."

"And you will in time," Isabella said. "But for now, it is Joanna who takes the title of princess and you will be consort."

Philip's teeth gritted and he puffed up his chest. "Very well. Now if you will excuse me." He turned and stomped from the room, his footsteps echoing and his arms swinging.

"Mother. Father. This is not quite the welcome I'd hoped for." Joanna pleaded. "I beg you to reconsider."

"It is the best we can do." The king returned to his throne and clicked his fingers for wine. "When your husband deviated through France, then lingered there at court, we would be fools to not suspect some kind of deal has been made with King Louis, our mortal enemy."

"‘Deal'?" She was aghast. "The only deal that was made"—she rubbed her belly—"was between Philip and me when we conceived this child on French soil. We swore that this new son will be the downfall of France, that God, who works in mysterious ways, will ensure that is the case."

"I hope and pray you are right," Isabella said. "Now come. We must get you fitted for the gown. You have a larger waistline than anticipated."

*

"You look beautiful," Isabella said one week later as she adjusted Joanna's headdress and veil. "A perfect princess for our people."

"Thank you, Mother." Joanna looked around for Philip. She'd yet to see him that day. He'd woken early and gone out riding, even though she'd asked him not to.

He was fractious here in Toledo. He couldn't settle. She blamed her parents for refusing to give him his due title. It had unnerved him, belittled him, and pushed him from her.

"I do wish you would re-think Philip's title," she said, adjusting her silk gloves. "If I am to be heir presumptive to the crowns of Castile and Aragon, then—"

"The royal chefs have excelled themselves," Isabella said, as though Joanna had not spoken. "And a harpist has come from Cordoba, flamenco dancers from Seville. There will be plenty for you to enjoy after the ceremony."

Joanna didn't reply. It felt like half a celebration knowing her husband had been shunned, for that was how he saw it. She hated to see him unhappy; it pulled at her heartstrings. How could she truly rejoice when he wasn't?

"It is time." Belmonte opened the door. "Your people await, Princess."

"Yes, it is time." Isabella kissed the cross at her neck. "And I thank God this day has come." She kissed both of Joanna's cheeks.

Forty minutes later, Joanna was riding sidesaddle through the streets of Toledo with Philip at her side on a large, black steed. She was glad to be back on her favorite horse, Gianna, but not glad to see her husband's tense posture and narrowed eyes. Now he wasn't just cross about the title, but also about her being on a horse, something her parents had insisted upon.

"Philip, do not listen to them," she said as she waved to a group of women smiling at her and throwing petals into Gianna's path.

He didn't answer because it was impossible not to listen to the local men who stood beside a tannery shouting their way.

"We don't want a traitor on the throne!"

"Be gone, French supporter."

"Out with him."

"They twitter is all. They don't understand," Joanna said, her heart rate picking up. "Ignore them."

"If I were to be prince this would not be happening. They would respect me for who I am and the power I have."

"I promise I will make you prince as soon as I can, and then after that, you will be king of all this land and its people. That is my word."

"I appreciate your word, of course I do," he said stiffly, "but it may be sometime until you have the power to address this issue."

She stared straight ahead, her emotions tearing in two. How could she wish her mother or father dead so that she could make her husband prince and then king? If only they had just agreed, life would have been much simpler.

The way to the cathedral was lined with people, though her guards kept them at bay. Eventually, the tall-spired cathedral came into view. The sun had bleached the stones white and a brass bell sparkled from the tower. It was ringing loudly, booming around the cobbled streets.

Once down from her horse, Joanna rested her hand over Philip's aloft one and they glided up the steps and through the door. A clavichord played a familiar hymn as they walked down the aisle. So many faces turned to them, curious, smiling, suspicious. A few she recognized, but many she did not.

At the head of the altar stood her parents' favored clergyman holding a Bible. Candles on huge, golden sconces were lit around him and incense burned, spreading its smoky spiced scent.

Her parents were seated to the right, crowned and splendid, their expressions serious.

Philip held himself with dignity as the ceremony started with a long prayer, one of her mother's favorites. A hymn was sung and the bishop spoke at length about the duties of a monarch to the people. Not once did her husband fidget or even clear his throat—he was as dignified as a man could be, despite his displeasure.

Joanna was proud of him.

Eventually, they were each given a ring, which they kissed before the bishop placed them on their fingers and they swore their allegiance to Castile and Aragon, the lands and the people in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Then they turned to the crowd, who in a sudden rush of apparent relief that the long ceremony had come to an end, stood and clapped.

Joanna beamed, unable to stop her joy from overwhelming her. She was a true princess and these were her people and she loved them.

Philip kissed the back of her hand and she felt the tenderness in his touch. She could enjoy this moment, and knowing it would one day give her the power to grant her true love his wish made her all the happier.