Chapter Twenty-Four

J oanna sat back and rubbed her belly. She smiled across the room at Philip. He was busy writing to his father.

"Have you noticed anything about me?" she said coyly.

"I can't say I have." He frowned and dipped his pen tip into ink.

"You must have," she said. For days, she'd been waiting for him to notice her swelling abdomen. "Take another look."

He finished a word then set down his pen and looked at her. As his eyes skimmed her body, they widened. "You are with child again?"

"Yes." She laughed. "You have put yet another son into my womb."

"I do love our daughters," he said, standing. "But another son would be a blessing from God." He walked to her, knelt, and then clasped her hands in his. "My wonderful wife, you give me such joy."

"As you do I."

He kissed her knuckles.

Knock. Knock.

Philip frowned. "It is late."

Joanna nodded worriedly. "Maybe one of the children is sick. Eleanor complained of a sore stomach earlier." She pulled her hands from Philip's and clasped the cross around her neck. "Please, Lord, protect our children."

"Do not jump to conclusions." Philip stood. "Your mind always goes to the worst. It is like a sense of doom lives within you."

"I cannot help it." She watched him stride to the door. "The doom…I think it is there."

He opened the door to Belmonte.

"I come with urgent news," Belmonte said. "From Castile." He handed forward a scroll. "Arrived this very minute by envoy." He was breathing hard, as though it had been he who'd galloped over the mountains.

"Oh, dear." Joanna stood, her heart pounding. "My little Ferdinand. Sweet, little baby Ferdinand. What has happened to him?"

Philip said nothing. He snatched the scroll and tore it open, flakes of red wax fluttering to the floor. He read in silence, his eyes flying over the words.

"What is it? Tell me. What is it?" Joanna rushed to him. She thought she might be sick, or faint—or maybe even die with worry.

"It is your mother, Queen Isabella of Castile."

"Heavenly Father." Belmonte crossed himself. "Not our beautiful queen." His face turned ashen.

"My mother. My mother. What has happened?" Joanna strained to see the words on the scroll.

"I am afraid," Philip said, passing the scroll to Belmonte then taking her by the shoulders. "She has died. She is with the Holy Father."

It felt to Joanna like all of her insides had turned to lead and dropped into her feet. Her chest squeezed and her stomach lurched. "No. No. Take that back. Don't say it. There must be a mistake."

"It says so in the scroll," Philip said, his face twisting as if reflecting her pain. "I am so sorry."

"No, not true. Not true." Her eyes stung as a wave of tears crested then fell. "My mother…no…please." She looked at Belmonte. "This is not true. My mother is fit and strong…so strong."

"It is true she was in fine health last we saw her," Belmonte said, his bottom lip quivering. "But illness can be a terrible, swift thing."

"Illness. What took her? What could possibly be strong enough to take the Queen of Spain?"

"The letter reports that she stepped away from duties several weeks before her death," Philip said.

"What else does it say?" Joanna looked up at him, dashing away the tears. "Please, tell me."

"It says, naturally…" He paused and a single frown line crossed his brow. "That you are now Queen of Castile. Queen Regnant."

She stepped backward, staring at him. "That is not what I want to know. What were her last words? Did she ask for me? Did she suffer awfully?"

"There is no mention of such details," Philip said. His jaw tightened, a small muscle flexing beneath the skin.

"My queen," Belmonte said, bobbing his head. "I am here to serve you now and always. It is my honor to be at your side. Whatever you need, I will get for you and I will lay down my life for you and yours."

She looked at her loyal and faithful servant. "I thank you, Belmonte." She tipped her chin and bit back a sob that threatened to shake her ribs from her body. "But I need to be alone with my husband." Her head felt like it was bursting and her heart breaking. She swayed to the left, the room suddenly spinning.

"My love." Philip's arms were around her. "Please…I beg you…do not be unwell at this news. Not when you are with child."

Words stacked up on her tongue but wouldn't come out. Darkness was coming and she clung to her husband as she lost the battle to stand.

"Quickly, get her onto the bed," Belmonte said, also rushing to her side.

Philip swung her into his arms, holding her close. Her head felt so heavy, she couldn't hold it up and so let it drop to his warm, solid shoulder.

Her dear mother. Oh, what a loss. How would she go on?

Every bitter word said between them twisted inside of her. Every sharp look and mean thought stung her skin like a swarm of wasps. They should have been better to each other. Much better.

And now it was too late.

"Here, rest," Philip said, gently laying her on the bed. "I will fetch the sal ammoniac to revive you."

Joanna shook her head. The smell of the ammoniac was vile. But in an instant, it was there and she breathed in the acrid, salty vapor without meaning to.

She coughed, her eyes flying open as she sat upright, gasping at the shock of the scent.

"Be calm." Philip sat on the bed and took her hand in his. "It is natural that you would be distraught at the loss of your mother."

"I… We…"

"I know. But all will be well. She is with her beloved Holy Father now."

Fresh tears fell on her still-damp cheeks and she held Philip's hand in both of hers, gaining strength from him.

He kissed her brow tenderly then turned to Belmonte. "Take this to Thomas. He needs to be informed so that he can take the necessary steps at court today. There is much to be done."

Belmonte studied Joanna as though deciding whether or not to leave her.

"Go," Philip said a little sharply. "This minute, Belmonte."

"I will be quite all right," Joanna said. "My husband will care for me."

Belmonte hesitated, then, "Yes, Your Majesty." He took the script then crossed the room, the heels of his boots clipping when he reached the wooden flooring. He left and closed the door.

A silence stretched, broken only by the sound of her pulse thudding in her ears.

"You must rest," Philip said eventually.

"I am resting," she said. "But tell me all the news that came from Castile." She rubbed her belly. "I need to know."

He released her hand and walked to the fire, clasped the mantel, and stared into the smoldering logs.

For a moment, Joanna studied his long, lean back, pert buttocks enclosed in new dark breeches, and wondered what else he had to tell her. There was clearly something. His knuckles had paled, he was gripping the mantel so tightly.

Still, he didn't speak.

She reached for a kerchief to blot her wet cheeks and the loss of her mother gaped dark and hollow again. How would she be able to live without her? It was true they'd had their differences, but she loved her with all of her heart. She sniffed and a sob caught in her throat as she flopped back against the stack of pillows. "If I am queen, you…you are now…King of Castile," she managed. Surely, that would take the tension from his stiff shoulders.

"No!" He turned, his eyes narrow and his arms rod straight at his side. "Once again, I have not been afforded my true title, my rightful title." He gritted his teeth.

"What do you mean?"

"It seems your mother, the queen, in her will has not even mentioned me or my title. Only that you will act as Queen Regnant, to reign suo jure over the kingdom. Independently of me."

"What? No, I don't believe it, Philip. Why wouldn't she name you as king?"

"Because she never liked me, despite her choosing me for you."

"Please, do not say that. She was very fond of you. I know she was."

He huffed. "Then why not pronounce me king? Am I to forever walk in your shadow?"

Joanna said nothing. She didn't understand her mother's decision, either.

"It makes a mockery of me, does nothing to take into account my years of experience ruling, governing, decision-making." He paced the room and ran his hand through his hair, looking more stressed with each step. "And my loyalty to Castile, Aragon, all of the kingdom of Spain and its new western territories."

"I am sorry. I am truly sorry."

"Are you?"

"Yes, of course. I wish us to rule Castile together as king and queen." She paused. "We will go and speak to my father. He can revoke the will, I'm sure. Make you king."

"Huh, Ferdinand will never do that. He is still angry about my meetings with Louis." He laughed bitterly. "Plus, he enjoys being king way too much to give up anything to me. He will claim Castile for himself."

"I'm sure he will if I ask him." She paused. "And I am queen now. Can't I make the changes?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I do not know, but what I do know is we cannot travel while you are with child again. We are locked here for many months, and during that time, I have a feeling Ferdinand will meddle and conspire and make those plans to grab Castile for himself when it should be ours. Aragon alone is not enough for him in this new kingdom."

"Please, do not think so badly of my father."

Philip walked to the desk and sat. He picked up his pen once more.

"What are you doing? Can't you leave letter-writing until later?" Joanna wiped at her eyes. The black hole inside of her was growing, grief taking her into its bitter grip.

"I must write to my father," he said. "There is much to tell him and I know he will give sound and sane advice."

*

"What is this?" Joanna studied a shiny, Spanish coin, the sun glinting off its polished surface.

"You do not recognize the faces?" Belmonte asked as he stood before her in the rose garden.

Beatriz, holding baby Mary and seated on a bench beside Joanna, peered at it too. "He has a very big nose," she said.

"Indeed." Joanna peered closer. "And her chin is small." She turned it over and read the embossed lettering. "Oh, my goodness. This can't be… This is my father and me, isn't it?"

"I am sorry to say it is." Belmonte hooked his fingers in the waistband of his black, leather belt. "Delivered today to antagonize your husband, I'd say."

"And in turn antagonize me. How could he?" Anger bloomed. "How could my father do this? It is petty and underhand."

"What is it?" Beatriz asked, jiggling the baby, who was stirring. "I do not understand."

"My father"—Joanna seethed—"has had coins minted with Ferdinand and Joanna, King and Queen of Castile, León, and Aragon emblazoned upon them. These are our images."

Beatriz gasped. "With no mention of Philip?"

"No." She tightened her lips, anger at her father rising further. "And Philip will not be pleased that my father believes himself and me to be the true and legitimate rulers of Castile and beyond."

"Only himself, Your Majesty." Belmonte grimaced, as though holding in knowledge that was akin to barbed wire. "Himself only as ruler."

"Himself? But I am on this coin," Joanna said.

"Yes. Please explain, Belmonte," Beatriz demanded.

"Ferdinand has spread rumors that you are unfit to rule, my queen."

" Unfit ? But I am as strong as an ox. I have just given birth for the fifth time to a healthy child. Who could be stronger? What could be more proof?"

"I agree." Belmonte pressed his hand upon his chest, over his heart. "I admire your strength and give thanks to God for it."

"Yet my father sees me as unfit?" She shook her head in bemusement.

"I believe…" Belmonte cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.

"You believe what?" Beatriz asked.

"Please tell us what you know." Joanna tipped her head, hardly believing that there was more to her father's desperate power grab.

"It pains me to say this, but he is claiming you are of unfit mind and that is why you are unfit to rule."

"Unfit mind." Joanna jumped up. "But that is ridiculous. He raised me to be an educated and thinking woman, and now that I think and speak with knowledge, I am of unfit mind?"

"The night at the castle gate in Castile, when you wanted to go to Philip, that won't have helped the situation." Beatriz shrugged.

Joanna glared at her. "I was simply missing my husband."

"And all the villagers saw the…incident," Beatriz said. "That is how your father will have added fuel to his rumors. He will have reminded them of that night and your banshee wails."

" Banshee wails ." She tore her glare from Beatriz to Belmonte. "I was upset and with child and my mother was being most unreasonable."

Neither Belmonte nor Beatriz spoke.

She huffed. "I need to speak to Philip. The sooner he knows of this underhand plot, the better."

*

Joanna found Philip in the stables with Thomas, discussing the merits of a new foal his favorite mare had produced.

"My love," he said when he saw her holding the hem of her gown away from the dusty ground. "You are here to see the foal?" He smiled. "Come, she is beautiful."

She nodded a greeting at Thomas and then stepped up to the stable door and peered in.

A pretty, chestnut foal on gangly legs suckled from its mother.

"She is but two days old," Thomas said. "And strong too."

"It is amazing how quickly they stand when it takes our young an entire year to master the skill." She smiled. "Quite something."

"She needs a name," Philip said, resting his hand on the small of her back. "Why don't you name her?"

"May I?" She smiled.

"Of course."

She thought for a moment. "Gianna. I believe it will be good luck for her."

"Gianna. Perfect name," Thomas said, picking up a brush and letting himself into the stable.

"Philip," she said. "I must speak to you on a matter of great urgency."

He frowned.

"Come, this way." She led him to a shaded corner of the courtyard and pressed the coin into his hand. "My father…he has minted these coins to circulate far and wide in our kingdom."

Philip's expression changed from one of calm to fury as he read the inscription. He had no need for it to be explained. It was as clear as day to him.

"Of all the… deceitful, sly, scheming, cheating, devious…" He sucked in a breath. "How has this…this thing… come to be here?"

"It was sent to Belmonte and presumably meant to be shown to us."

"Your father has gone too far. I had planned for us to travel there in only a matter of months to correct this situation, but he has made it impossible for civil conversation." He turned and strode ten paces to the left then ten paces to the right. Suddenly, he stopped and held up his hand. "I know how to respond. Yes!"

"What? What are you going to do?"

"I will mint my own coins."

"You will do what ?"

"I will mint my own coins, with both mine and your heads upon them and stating that we are the true rulers of the Crown of Castile." He smacked his fist into his palm. "In fact…I will declare myself heir to the Kingdom of Spain if he will not. It is only right. And what is more, it is time."