Chapter Thirteen

A knock at the library door had Isabella setting her Bible aside. She was glad of the intrusion, if she were honest. She'd felt weary all day. "Come in."

It opened and Alvaro appeared in his usual dark clothing and black hat. "Your Majesty, I have a letter for you."

"From whom?" She received many letters, but she only really got excited if one came from Charles.

Alvaro studied the seal. "I believe it is from the Archduchess Margaret of Austria."

"It is?" Isabella sat forward, though it was getting uncomfortable to do so at six months pregnant. "I had started to give up hope of hearing from her."

Alvaro smiled and shut the door. "I am pleased also and pray it contains good news."

"Me too." She kissed the cross that sat around her neck.

"Would you like me to open it for you?"

"Yes, please." She gestured to the chair next to her. "And read it if you would." She paused and smiled. "It will save me from having to relay it to you after I have perused it." She picked up a cup of honeyed tea and sipped. But it was hard to contain her anticipation. Would she be scolded for meddling or would Margaret have news?

Alvaro sat. His outdoor scent wafted around her. Being pregnant always made her more sensitive and Alvaro smelled of pine forests and sage, a unique outdoors smell that she liked.

"May I be bold enough to speak freely before I open this?" Alvaro said, holding the scroll on his lap, his thumb poised to break the seal.

"Of course," she said.

He cleared his throat. "No matter what is contained in here, I want you to know that I am so humbled to know you."

She tipped her head and studied his dark eyes.

"You have faced trials and tribulations as a woman, as an empress, but you forge your own path."

"I am not sure what you mean."

"Your Majesty, I bear witness to your wise council, and your ability to see an entire picture before it is painted in reality. It makes me proud to know you, to be within your circle. For many women would not step beyond the boundaries their gender dictates."

"You believe I step beyond my boundaries?" She raised her eyebrows.

"As an empress should." He bowed his head.

"I thank you for the kind compliment." She studied his face; his cheeks had reddened slightly. "But please read. Let us find out of the archduchess and the King of France's mother have also stepped from their paths as women."

Alvaro uncurled the scroll and held it up.

She sat back, gripping the chair and staring at the empty fire grate.

"‘Esteemed friend, Isabella of Portugal, Queen of Spain, Holy Roman Empress.'" Alvaro paused. "‘I write to you with news that I hope will be greatly comforting after our last communications.'"

"The letter I sent her," Isabella interrupted. "About the planned duel."

Alvaro nodded and continued to read. "‘I will start at the beginning and tell you that Louise de Savoy and I were both pleased to hear from you. We made contact and the king's mother added into her communication to me that while we must necessarily contend and argue, she sincerely hoped that we would be able to meet without anger or ill will.'"

"That is a good sign." Isabella nodded.

"‘So we planned to meet on the border, at Cambria,'" Alvaro went on. "‘We were both aware we had many eyes upon us. But despite little confidence in our success—for ambassadors and ministers alike believed we would achieve nothing because of the enmity of France and Spain—I hope we proved them wrong.'"

"Me too."

"‘My dear Isabella,'" Alvaro continued. "‘I will confess I took with me twenty-four archers, for I know what a snake her son can be. I had to presume such a trait of his mother too. She had told me she would bring only her ladies and nobility, a ban on weapons, for what if we had threatened a duel like the very one we wished to offset?'"

Isabella chuckled. "Wise move."

"‘And Louise de Savoy was true to her word. Arriving only with her daughter, her chaplain, her painter, and a handful of choristers.'"

"Quite the selection."

"Indeed." Alvaro revealed some more of the scroll's beautiful, swirling handwriting. "She goes on, listen. ‘We sat for some three weeks negotiating. I played my hands cleverly and kept my ear to the ground concerning other developments. At every moment, I fought for the emperor, my beloved nephew and your gracious husband, hoping to make the treaty work in his favor.'"

"This is sounding promising."

"‘I have to inform you that Louise is a formidable woman, greatly intelligent, superbly educated, and quite honestly as good an opponent, if not better, than any man.'"

"Oh." Isabella sagged. "Perhaps it did not go well and the duel is still set."

"Let us read on." Alvaro paused. "‘We negotiated for three weeks, all day, every day. Sometimes indoors, sometimes in the courtyard. It was a hard task and I feared suddenly being taken hostage by Francis at any moment as repayment to Charles for holding him and his sons prisoner.'"

"That would have been awful." Isabella shook her head and pressed her hand to her chest.

"‘Eventually,'" Alvaro read, "‘we came to an agreement and signed a treaty on behalf of both Francis, King of France, and Charles, Holy Roman Emperor, which effectively rids the need of the duel to which Charles challenged Francis.'"

"Oh, thank the dear Lord." Isabella raised her eyes heavenward. "She did it. What a godsend." Her eyes stung with relief and a knot between her shoulder blades eased a fraction. "Does she say what she secured?"

"Yes, the archduchess agreed to release the king's sons for a considerable ransom…two million écu." He blew out a breath and shook his head. "That is a lot of money."

"It is indeed."

"She then goes on to say… ‘The ransom will be paid in cash, which will agree with Charles very much. Another term is that Eleanor of Austria will indeed marry Francis, a situation which has lingered too long without happening despite her journeying there in preparation a long time ago.'" He hesitated, then read, "‘Also, under the terms of this peace treaty, Francis has renounced his claims to Italian lands, Artois, and Flanders, though he has retained Burgundy.'"

"Charles has given up on Burgundy despite it being his grandmother's title." Isabella frowned as she thought. "So that will not distress him. And Margaret is right—that is a handsome ransom and will go toward paying off the high price of the Italian wars."

"The emperor will be pleased, don't you agree?" Alvaro said.

"Yes. Yes I do." She stood, suddenly feeling light after weeks of being weighed down. She'd been unable to sleep because of images of Charles dying on a French field, Francis standing over him wielding a weapon and wearing an ugly, victorious expression.

"You did the right thing," Alvaro said. "Asking for help in giving both men an honorable retreat from the duel."

"It was my worst vision, that duel." She shook her head. "No, there are probably more frightening thoughts, but that one seemed so close and Charles so set on it."

"I agree." He stood. "Your Majesty, I…"

"Yes?" She tipped her head and studied him. For some reason, he looked a little apprehensive. A little coy.

He removed his hat and pressed it against his chest. "I want you to know that I am your most devoted servant." He paused. Swallowed. "I could never aid another lady of nobility. I am yours, at your total and utter disposal. Whatever you need. You only have to ask and I shall give it. Anything."

"I thank you, Alvaro." She touched his hand. "You are a great comfort when Charles is away."

He blinked and looked up at her, his lips trembling a little. "My heart beats for you, Empress," he whispered. "What I am trying to say is I will never want to be at another woman's side. My heart only beats for you."

"Oh…I see." And she did. The love and adoration he had for her was pouring from his eyes. "And I also see that my husband was wise indeed to leave you here, with me. As my companion and protector."

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

She quickly intercepted whatever it was he was about to say, fearing it could not be unsaid. "When I say my prayers this night I will send thanks to God that you are at my side, as my devoted servant and aide."

He replaced his hat, swallowed tightly, his Adam's apple bobbing, then turned. "My life is dedicated to you." He stepped away.

"Alvaro," she called.

"Yes?" He turned, his breath hitching.

"Could you organize a meeting with the Cortes so I can relay the information you have just brought me?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." He bowed, his eyes on the ground. "I'll do it at once."

*

"Dona! Dona! It is time." Isabella stiffened, gripping her belly. She was in the courtyard embroidering in the pleasant November sunlight. "Oh!"

She closed her eyes, bright lights flashing behind her lids as the wave of pain spreading over her abdomen increased. This was her third labor, but still the shock of the intense pain took her by surprise, almost as though she'd forgotten how painful the others had been.

"Your Majesty." Dona was at her side, holding her hand. "Your Majesty, I am here."

Isabella gritted her teeth and waited for the agony to slide away and give her breath back.

Which it did after several biting moments.

She opened her eyes. "I felt it a little overnight, but it came to nothing, and now…now it is here with full force."

Dona pressed her hand to Isabella's forehead. "Let us get you inside."

"Yes. I will try." She fought to find the power in her legs to stand, but already, they were weak, as though her body were only concentrating on expelling the child in her swollen belly.

"Let me help." Alvaro was suddenly at her side, one strong arm around her and the other there for her to grip on to.

"I thank you."

"We must hurry," Dona said. "Her waters have gone."

It was then Isabella was aware of the wetness between her legs. She groaned in embarrassment, but the sound quickly switched to a gasp of pain as another contraction besieged her.

"What is happening?" Luisa's voice. "Oh…I see. I will fetch the midwife at once."

"And order hot water. Ensure we have everything we need."

"Naturally, I will see to all of that," Luisa snapped and she was then gone.

Alvaro helped Isabella from the courtyard and into the corridor that led to her bedchamber. She clung to him, glad of his strength and calm, but she wished it were Charles with her. Her husband. The father of the child trying to push from her body.

Soon she was in her bedchamber being helped to lie down. Another contraction gripped her and she clasped her belly and held her breath, waiting for the pain to go.

"You should leave now, Alvaro," Dona said. "We women will tend her."

"But—?"

"Go!" Luisa's voice. "This is women's work."

She sensed Luisa and Dona fussing with her. Then another set of hands, the midwife, feeling between her legs.

"He is coming fast," the midwife said. "In a rush to get into this world."

Isabella flopped her head back onto the pillow knowing she would only get a moment of respite before the next tight agony wrapped around her torso.

"Where is the warmed olive oil?" the midwife demanded.

"Here." Dona's voice though it sounded distant.

A cool flannel was set on Isabella's head. Luisa stroked her hair. "The pain will be over soon."

"It is God's will." Isabella gasped. "For Eve's sins." She groaned and fisted the sheet.

"Shh…soon, you will hold your babe."

Her legs were parted, warm oil applied. "This will stop you tearing," the midwife said. "For this is going to be a gallop into the world and—"

Isabella cried out, the pain and the urge to push all-consuming. It was out of her control and she bore down, working with her body now.

"I see the head," Dona said.

"Argh!" Isabella screamed. This child was bursting from her, stretching her to the point she could not bear it.

And then there was a strange kind of relief.

"The head is out." The midwife set her hand on Isabella's stomach. "You are doing so well. One more gentle push. Don't force it."

"It's out… It's…" She was once again gripped by pain and this time, it was accompanied by a slithering, then a falling, as though something had dropped from her.

"You did it," Luisa said excitedly. "Your babe is born."

"And so quickly," Dona said. "We hardly had time to get you on the bed."

Isabella was breathing fast, the pain slipping to the shadows of her memory. "Is it a son?" She was struggling to see the child. The midwife had cut the cord and scooped the tiny babe up in a blanket. She was rubbing its back.

"Why isn't the baby crying?" Luisa asked with a wobble in her voice.

"The child will live," the midwife said determinedly as she rubbed with more vigor.

And then a high-pitched wail rang around the bedchamber.

"Oh, thanks be to God," Isabella said, holding out her arms. "Give…to me…"

"Here." The midwife laid the child in her arms. "You did well, Your Majesty."

"Thank you." She moved the blanket and looked at her child's tiny penis. "A son. The emperor has another son." Her heart filled. "He will be pleased."

"As are we all." Luisa kissed Isabella's head tenderly. "You have great strength, and great fertility, Your Majesty."

Isabella smiled. Happiness filled her heart. She couldn't wait to write to Charles and tell him the good news. Perhaps it would hasten his return to Spain and into her arms.