Chapter Twenty

"B eatriz," Joanna said the next morning as she sat up in bed. "You need to help me."

"Anything, Your Highness. I will do anything for you."

Joanna gripped her hand. "You must go to Philip. Get a horse and ride to French court."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You must go and report to me what my husband is doing."

"But…they will never allow me into French court."

"They will. You are part of the prince consort's entourage. You have been there before."

"As your lady, not his."

Joanna waved her free hand in the air. "What does that matter? I insist you leave today, immediately. Raul will sort out a horse and carriage while you pack a trunk."

"But…I really—"

"There is no discussion to be had. You must leave and write to me daily, reporting on his actions." She leaned forward, desperate for Beatriz to understand the urgency of the situation. "If you don't, I feel I will lose my mind."

Beatriz tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind Joanna's ear. "I cannot, my friend. My place is here with you. When the babe is born, you will need me."

"I have given birth lots of times. I can do it alone." She raised her chin.

"That is not wise. I beg you."

"What is not wise is for you not to follow my instructions." She nodded at the door. "Go and ready yourself. And be sure to pack scrolls and ink for the reports."

Beatriz frowned.

"Now."

"No, Your Highness. I will not. The queen will not allow it, either. I am sure of that."

"What my mother wants is none of my concern." Joanna fisted the sheets. Why didn't Beatriz understand the gravity of the situation? "This is an arrangement between you and I. I need you. I need you to do this."

"I can't." Beatriz shook her head, her eyes downcast.

"You can."

"I am sorry." She backed away toward the door. "Truly, I am."

"You have failed me." Joanna picked up a brush and slung it at her. "You are supposed to be on my side."

Beatriz gasped and slipped from view. The brush clattered against the wall.

Joanna flung herself down onto the bed, burying her face in a pillow. She sobbed so hard, her chest hurt, her ribs heaving with each miserable wail of grief. For that was what it felt like without her husband. She grieved him. She wanted to be with him.

On and on, the tears came. She was lost to her own misery, twisted by an unhappiness that seemed to be never-ending.

Eventually, she fell into a deep, dark sleep. Drained and tired, her body gave up and relaxed. But her mind didn't. All too soon, she was being tortured by vivid nightmares.

Philip was in bed with a blonde French beauty, her hair running over his abdomen as she took his cock into her mouth. His face twisted with pleasure, his hands reaching for her soft, round breasts.

"No. No." Joanna was shouting in her dream. "Stop. Leave him alone!"

But the dream continued, the blonde on her back now, legs spread and beckoning Philip to enter her. He did. His long, strong body went rigid with desire as he pumped into her, driving them both to pleasure. He was lost to the woman, the wench, his memories of Joanna gone in an instant.

She screamed, the agony too much to bear, and tried to rip their bodies apart, but they were absorbed in their act and her demands fell on deaf ears—her scratching, yanking hands had no effect. Frustration mounted, jealousy twisting inside of her. Suddenly, a pair of scissors appeared in her hand and she raised them above the blonde's face, ready to bring them down, obliterate her beauty, slash away the pleasure in her eyes.

"Joanna, wake up. Joanna…please."

Her mother's voice, distant and weak, as though underwater.

"Joanna. You are dreaming. Wake up." The voice was louder this time.

She flicked her eyes open to the harsh light of day. She was breathing hard, her limbs twitching and her head spinning.

"It's just a dream," Isabella said, her brow creased with worry. "Just a dream. Pregnancy can do that at times."

"Mother." Joanna gasped, crying again, even though she'd been sure her tears had all but dried up. "Oh…it was so awful."

"My baby girl." Isabella scooped her close. "I hate to see you suffer this way."

"Then let me go to Philip." Joanna clung to her mother's gown. "Let me go to him this very day."

"We can't let you do that. You know why."

"But I can't be without him," she wailed.

Isabella pulled back and held Joanna by the shoulders. "You have to snap out of this. It's not right, this insane love you have for him."

"It is not insane. It is how a woman should love her husband."

"And does he love you this way?"

"Yes, of course he does. He tells me all the time he could not live without me."

"And I am pleased for you, that you share a great love with Philip. But don't you see, he is away performing his royal duties. He is mediating for Spain and as such, accepts his pain at parting from you. That is what you must do also."

"Yes, yes, it does pain him to be apart from me. From me and our children. It hurts him here." She banged her fist onto her chest.

"But he is strong and—"

"Are you saying I am not strong?"

"You are strong, Joanna, very strong, and now you must show it and speak no more of leaving for the French court or of missing Philip."

Joanna pulled away. "You do not understand my pain. You have no idea what I am going through."

Isabella was quiet.

"But I will show you I am strong. I will have this baby alone. I will stay in this room as my belly swells and I will labor alone. No one, not you or Beatriz, will tend me, then you will all know how strong I am, and then you will understand the burden of my love for Philip, the agony of being parted from him."

"Do not add to your burden." Isabella shook her head. "No woman should birth alone. It is a dangerous time."

"Please leave." Joanna pointed at the door. "If I am to be alone, I wish to be truly alone, with just my thoughts from this moment until my body expels this child."

"It will not be good for you. Pregnancy is a time for women to lean on women. God will be with you, but growing a child in your body is—"

"Leave, I beg you. And I don't care if God is with me or not." She turned and moved to the opposite side of the bed, then stood and walked to the window. Her head felt light and her knees weak, so she gripped the sill and stared out at Raul sweeping the yard.

A few moments later, the door clicked.

Her mother had indeed left her alone.

*

Philip surveyed King Louis XII of France's vast armory. The walls were adorned with swords, bayonets, and pikes. A wooden horse took pride of place beside the fireplace—large enough to stable the creature—wearing full military regalia. Every inch of the material covering the horse was emblazoned with Louis's crest. On its head, red plumes of feathers signified bravery and its tail was plaited with scarlet ribbon.

"What do you think, my handsome friend?" Louis asked, slapping his hand onto Philip's shoulder and clasping it.

"An impressive collection." Philip gestured to a set of shields. "Though they do not appear to have ever seen a battlefield. Not one dent amongst them."

Louis laughed. "These are just for show, to impress my esteemed friends. Such as you."

Philip nodded and took a goblet of wine from a nearby courtier. "I am happy to be here, as your friend and as King of Spain."

Louis's eyebrows raised. "King of Spain? I had not heard of King Ferdinand's death."

Philip smiled and dipped his head. "It is true, my father by marital law is alive and well…or at least last I heard. But he is an elderly king, one who is tiring with politics and weary with governing. I think you'll find that I am king before the year is out." Philip didn't think this would be the case, but it didn't hurt for Louis to believe it.

Louis was quiet. "For a tired king, he throws the weight of his army around."

"I have been advising him, as you can imagine." Philip paused. "But always with France in mind, and Burgundy, Flanders, and the Low Countries too of course." He took a sip of drink. "My marriage is quite advantageous, don't you think? For both of us."

"And how is your lovely wife? She is quite…charming."

Philip laughed and his heart swelled when he thought of Joanna. He hated being apart from her and knew his sneaking out at the crack of dawn would have enraged her, but what choice had he had? She simply wouldn't have let him leave and would have pulled all of her wily womanly tricks to get him to stay. "She is with child again. Another son, I am sure."

"Sons are a blessing, indeed."

"And I am glad you found her quirky ways charming." Philip remembered her wild dancing and flamboyant outfit swirling as she'd taken center stage at French court. "Her energy is to be admired, I hope."

"She is to be a powerful woman," Louis said, "and as she is energetic and headstrong, that is a lot to contend with for a husband. Are you sure you're up to the job?"

Philip frowned. He was a man. A Habsburg. Of course he could control Joanna. "I have handled my wife perfectly well over the years and that will not change because she gains a title."

Louis pressed his lips together as though holding in words.

"It will not." Philip sensed his rising temper. His scalp itched and his collar felt too tight. Who was Louis to cast such judgment?

"That is good," Louis said. "Because she may land you in hot water if not kept on… a leash is the wrong word, but you get my meaning."

"Speaking of hot water," Philip said, keen to move the conversation away from Joanna. "We need to discuss Naples, Sicily and Milan too, for that matter."

"Indeed." Louis gestured to two large, wooden chairs that were situated so they looked down the room. "Let's sit."

Philip did as instructed, the seat firm on his behind. "King Ferdinand is keen to get a resolution," he said. "As am I and my father, soon to be Holy Roman Emperor, for whom I can speak freely."

"And you are able to negotiate on King Ferdinand's behalf also?"

"Naturally." Philip scowled. "Why else would I be here?"

"This is good news."

Philip set down his drink. "As I said before, consider that you are in fact speaking to the King of Spain, right now, as we sit here."

"Very well. In that case, I want Naples. It is rightfully mine, and I also want compensation for the war I have had to wage reclaiming it."

Philip had to stop his mouth from hanging open. "You want compensation for a war you started?"

"Yes, it's been very expensive, this long dispute. I wish for money, from you…from Spain."

"I cannot agree to that."

"Is that you speaking or Ferdinand?"

"Me. Both. That is not going to happen. Compensation… It won't happen." His head spun. That was not what he'd been expecting Louis to ask for. He willed himself to keep calm and think through his next words. There was no way he wanted Louis to know he'd thrown him. "However, I have an idea…"

"Go on." Louis studied him, his beady eyes searching.

Philip smiled. "I do know how both you and I, France and Spain, can cement an alliance, and in turn secure Naples in the future."

"Go on."

"We will sign a treaty, a secret treaty to overturn Frederick of Naples and draw an end to this war in more ways than one."

"I don't understand."

"Ah." Philip tapped his nose. "The first part is easy. Claiming Naples from Frederick, we have good armies already in position, but the second part of my plan is a long game. We must be patient." He paused for dramatic effect. "Can you be patient, Your Majesty?"

"Right now, you hold me in suspense and my patience is thin ice."

Philip smiled. "We must wed my eldest son, Charles, to your eldest daughter, Claude, so that eventually, Naples and Sicily and all of the north will be in their hands entirely. Ultimate power in this vast Italian region. Don't you see? It is a simple solution and we both win."

"I want Naples now." Louis frowned.

"You can have it, kind of." Philip nodded for more wine. "Because in the meantime, as will be stated in our pending treaty, France can rule Naples and the north of Italy and Spain the south. It will only be a generation and the entire country will be as one and under our rule. When I say ‘ours,' I mean yours, France."

Philip smiled, knowing what a prize it would be for his son, Charles. He'd have territorial stakes in France, Spain, and Italy, as well as the Low Countries and Burgundy and beyond. It was a grand inheritance for his son, the greatest ever sought, and all because of a well-matched marriage. Philip felt flush with power and ambition. It was all going to plan.

Wasn't it?

"Ferdinand will never agree to this." Louis paused while his goblet was refilled with claret. "He hates me."

"It is true his fondness for you is lacking," Philip said. "That is why I am here. So we can speak truthfully, intelligently, and civilly."

Louis waited.

"And don't forget, my son, Charles, is Ferdinand's grandson. Ferdinand wants the best for Charles and this marriage is the best for him, for Charles."

"Mmm." Louis scratched his chin. "I had not accounted for that…"

Philip waited, his heart thudding. He wanted nothing more than for Louis to agree to this marriage. It would solve a host of problems along with the treaty.

"I will agree." Louis nodded slowly. "I can see this way Claude, my daughter, will eventually win not just Naples, but many more territories with this marriage. It pleases me."

"You are very wise and patient and think in a progressive manner." Philip retrieved a scroll from his pocket. "And in preparation I have drawn up the agreements necessary." He stood and unrolled the scroll.

Outside, he heard voices. His advisors, Louis's too. They wouldn't be happy that Philip had gone along with his plan. They'd claimed Ferdinand would be furious, that he had no interest in treaties with France. That the king wanted Naples and Sicily for himself without compromise.

But what did they know? He, Philip of the House of Habsburg, had accomplished in a single conversation what Ferdinand and his advisors hadn't managed in years of battle.

What was more, he'd secured a French crown for his son. How excited he was to tell young Charles this.

And it would be soon.

He would go to Flanders shortly. Check on his children and his Estates Generals. He'd been gone too long and a powerful man like him had to keep hold of the reins in all of his territories.

In all of his growing empire.