Chapter Two

I sabella dabbed lavender perfume on the delicate underside of her new sister's wrists.

"Are you sure he likes lavender?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, my brother adores it." Isabella added a touch to Catherine's neck, just below her ears. "And John will adore you on this day and forevermore."

"I hope so." She nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. "For I fear that—"

"Do not fear anything. I have a feeling you will be very happy together." Isabella stood back and studied the bride's final look. "Yes, perfect."

Catherine was simply beautiful in a long, cream gown embroidered with gold stitching. The heavy sleeves were puffed at the shoulders, the neckline low and the matching veil studded with tiny gems. She had pearls around her neck, hanging from her eyes and clasped into her hair. Her skin was almost as pale as the pearls, only a hint of rose upon her cheeks and her lips. She was a vision of perfection.

It was hard for Isabella not to feel a little jealous. She had waited so long for Charles to change his mind and propose again that she was beginning to wonder if her prayers were to be for nothing—and there had been hours of praying in their private chapel, besieging God to put her on the right path. For she could do good in the empire. She was sure of it, if only given the recognition and trust.

Hope had arrived with Catherine that at least the Portuguese monarchy was on the emperor's mind, but then Isabella realized that Catherine marrying King John and becoming Queen of Portugal actually lessoned Charles's need to marry her—now he had a robust ally in their court and children would come who had his bloodline, God willing.

"It is time," Luisa said from the doorway. Tall and slim, she had flushed cheeks from rushing around all morning.

"Thank you." Isabella nodded at her lady-in-waiting. "We are ready."

Luisa stepped into the room. She held a bunch of cream roses dripping with ivy. "Your Highness, you look like a promise wrapped up in a dream and a fantasy about to come to truth. His Majesty will find his heart lost to you the moment he sets eyes upon you."

"You always have such a way with words, Luisa," Isabella said with a smile.

"Words are all I have." Luisa handed the flowers to Catherine. "Though I thank God each day for the gift."

Catherine smelled the flowers, then Isabella took her thin veil and covered her face. "Come, it is time."

"The crowd is waiting." Luisa gestured to the door.

"‘Crowd'?" Catherine gulped.

"Naturally, there is a crowd." Isabella smiled. "You are a spectacle to behold and you are to be our new queen. There is much curiosity."

Catherine nodded, hesitated, and then stepped forward.

Isabella linked her arm through Catherine's. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

"I thank you. You have been most welcoming." She hesitated. "In truth, dearest Isabella, you have made the ordeal of leaving my mother and coming to Portugal bearable."

"Only ‘bearable'?" Isabella nudged her.

"No, that is not true. You have put me at ease. I am grateful that both you and the king are kind natured."

"It is how we were raised."

"A very different childhood to mine and my siblings'."

Isabella was quiet for a moment. "Tell me, is Charles kind natured?"

"Yes, of course… Well, apart from being a pompous dictator about me coming to Portugal. I had no say in it, not one word, and Mother backed him up."

"And here you are. A smiling, beautiful bride."

"Yes, here I am."

"And is Charles…?" Isabella asked.

"Please, go on?" Catherine studied Isabella.

"Is he a devout and faithful man?"

"If you mean faithful to God, yes, very. He is, after all, the King of all Christendom."

"Of course, I apologize. I meant no implication otherwise."

"You wonder if he has an eye for pretty girls, Isabella, am I right?"

They started down the long corridor that would lead them to the chapel. Flowers cascaded from urns and uniformed servants holding polished pikes stood in straight-backed silence.

"It is true he has had lovers," Catherine said in a hushed voice. "He is a man, and like all men, so I am told, he has needs."

"Mmm."

"And unlike us women," Catherine went on quietly, "taking a lover does not make him less of a marital catch."

"I will never wed another," Isabella said. "I wait only for him."

Catherine stopped and turned to Isabella, taking her hand. "You should consider other noblemen, princes, kings, for you deserve so much more from life than waiting for a man who barely knows you exist."

"I will wait."

"But he has snubbed you so, by promising his hand to the infant princess, Mary Tudor of England."

"He will not marry her. God will answer my prayers."

"How can you be so sure?"

"It is King Henry's and our aunt's feeble attempt to control Charles." She paused. "I know enough of him to know he is not a man who will be controlled."

Catherine nodded. "That is true."

"He has the King of France his prisoner, does he not?"

"Yes. That is also true. He is imprisoned in Spain."

"And Pope Clement is in the emperor's debt after his victories in Northern Italy."

"I believe I have heard that from Charles himself."

"So…" Isabella tapped her temple. "A man of that intellect and ability will soon see that I am his most attractive candidate for marriage, not least because we are close in age." She tipped her chin. "Plus, it is only I who can bring a vast dowry of cruzados to fund his wars. It is I who should give him pure-blood sons. And it is only I who has the education in politics, Christian doctrine, and etiquette to enable me to sit at his side as empress and fulfill the most regal of duties."

"I wish for nothing more, dear Isabella," Catherine said. "For you would make a fine and wise empress. Adored by peoples in lands far and wide."

"I thank you." Isabella smiled suddenly as she remembered this day wasn't about her. "But come. You keep the king waiting."

The vast ceremonial room was packed full of nobles, council, and clergy dressed in their finery. The weak winter sun filtered through the stained glass windows and incense burned, mixing with the scent of cologne and perfume.

"May God be with you every step of the way, my lady," Luisa said, fussing with Catherine's veil.

Catherine smiled. "Thank you."

"And try to enjoy this special day," Isabella said. "John will make a fine husband to you, I promise."

Catherine's smile was a little shaky, as though she were struggling to hold back tears.

"Just concentrate on his face," Isabella whispered. "When you get to the altar look into his eyes and forget about everyone else."

Catherine turned to make the long walk to her marriage—to her reign as Queen of Portugal.

She didn't move.

Her eyes were fixed on John standing with his back to her and wearing a thick, red cape, the collar lined with gray fox fur, and a scarlet cap set at an angle. He was a tall, broad man, but in this regalia, he looked like a giant.

"Would you like me to walk with you?" Isabella asked, sensing Catherine was about to run from court, never to be seen again.

"Yes." Catherine swallowed. "Yes, please."

"We women have to stick together, right?" Isabella smiled and took a step onto the red carpet that had been laid along the aisle.

A harpist began to play a gentle lullaby that reminded Isabella of birdsong.

"Come," she said under her breath, conscious now that the guests were turning to face the stationary bride. "Just one step in front of the other."

Catherine stared straight ahead and gripped the flowers, the gauzy veil thankfully hiding the fact that she'd paled further and her eyes were misted.

Then she began to walk.

With each moment that passed, Isabella's heart squeezed. She so wanted to be a bride—to be Charles's bride. It was impossible not to allow herself a moment of girlish fantasy that it was she in the beautiful, flowing gown and the bejeweled veil, holding a bouquet as she walked toward her king—her emperor.

But she shook the selfish thoughts away and rejoiced in the expression of stunned awe on her brother's face when they'd reached the altar.

It was true he'd loved Eleanor, but Catherine was also going to steal his heart. She was pretty and sweet of nature and witty too. They'd have a lot in common as time went on and Isabella was sure she'd prove herself to be a worthy queen.

The ceremony was long and drawn out, the bishop clearly enjoying having a captive audience. Hymns were sung, prayers were spoken, and vows exchanged.

By the time the feasting had begun, Isabella was grateful for the wine, cheese, and fish laid out in the Great Hall.

"Congratulations," she said to her brother as the congregation mingled. "I wish all of God's blessings upon you."

"Thank you." John kissed her cheek. "Catherine is a beautiful and pious queen for our beloved country."

"I believe you will make each other very happy." She finished the glass of wine she was holding in two big gulps. "And I will pray for healthy, strong sons to arrive at the soonest opportunity."

He raised a decanter and refilled her glass. His expression turned serious. "I wish for your happiness too. And sons. Will you not reconsider your choice of husband?"

"Not marry Charles?"

"My sweet sister, he has not talked of you for many months, not even when he sent a letter to me with Catherine. It contained only matters of politics and his empire."

She looked away, hating the fact that her throat had thickened with disappointment.

"There are other titled men in Europe who would make you a fine husband, Isabella. Give you the life you deserve."

"No." She shook her head. "I have made it clear: It is the emperor or the monastery. I will not give myself to any other than Charles Holy Roman Emperor or God. At this moment in time, I believe it will be to God to whom I pledge my eternal devotion of marriage, but there is a small part of me, a tiny seed, that is hope. Hope that Charles will see sense and come for me."

"Hope is fragile." John touched her cheek. "And when it breaks it can crumble the soul."

"Not my soul, for it is scaffolded in faith." She managed a stiff smile. "So do not fear for my future, for it will unfold as is God's will. Today, it is your day to celebrate and rejoice in your good fortune." She gestured to Catherine, who was speaking with Luisa. "Though please, be gentle with her when night falls. Remember she has spent many years as companion to her mother in a convent. Her knowledge of men…of married life…is even more limited than that of the usual virgin bride."

"I do not need to be reminded of such things." He slugged his wine in a sharp gesture. "And I would remind you that such matters are wholly private between a man and his wife and if you—"

"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived." A puffing courtier arrived at John's side holding forward a scroll.

In an instant, Isabella spotted the emperor's royal red seal.

"It is from the emperor," she said, her voice suddenly breathy. "And when we just spoke of him." Quickly, she crossed herself. "Dear God, you work in mysterious ways."

"It is possibly a note of congratulations," John said, snapping the seal. "Nothing more."

Isabella knew that was John's way of saying, Don't be caught up in hope , but she couldn't help it. The emperor had sent word to their court? Were the words she longed to hear within it? Had he finally broken his engagement with Mary?

"Please, will you read it aloud?" Isabella asked when John seemed to hold the scroll from her view.

"Yes, yes…"

"Go on, then."

He cleared his throat. "‘King John, dearest cousin and most illustrious monarch of Portugal. I, Charles, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Spain, Archduke of Austria, and Lord of the Netherlands write to you this day to congratulate you on your marriage to my sister Catherine.

"‘And with that marriage in mind, I propose we make this a double marriage contract in order to further our two countries' alliance.'"

"A double marriage contract?" Isabella repeated.

John continued. "‘I have cancelled my engagement to Princess Mary of England and it is now my wish to marry your sister Princess Isabella of Portugal.'"

"Oh, my dear Lord." Isabella clasped her cross, kissed it, then sent her eyes heavenward. "Finally."

"There is more. Let me finish," John said. "‘I would settle on a dowry of nine hundred thousand cruzados, as well as the titles of Monarch of the Canaries and Indies and Ocean Sea.'"

"That is acceptable." Isabella nodded enthusiastically and set her drink aside. She steepled her hands beneath her chin. "Isn't it?"

"Nine hundred thousand cruzados is a lot of money. And titles on top of that."

"But we have it. The money and the titles, to give to him." Isabella strained to see the scroll. "Is there more? What else does he say?"

"He says… ‘We will wed in Seville within the year. As I am sure you know, I have King Francis under my control and have much to attend before I can leave Madrid. Please respond to my requests at the earliest convenience and apologize to dear Isabella for my somewhat unreliable affections of late. I intend to remedy that from this moment on.' And he signs it Charles ."

Isabella's legs felt a little weak and her heart was thudding. Was she dreaming? Was this real? Would she wake up at any moment?

"My dear," John said, cupping her elbow. "Are you quite well?"

"Yes, yes… Oh, I think I should sit down." Was this cruel trickery? She felt sure it was. And of all the days…

Quickly, John grabbed a chair and steered her into it. He knelt at her side and clasped her hand. "Isabella, what can I get you?"

She was aware of a few guests turning their way and fanned her face with her other hand. "It is hot in here."

Catherine suddenly appeared, Luisa at her side.

"What is it?" Catherine asked with a furrowed brow.

"A letter, from your brother." John handed Catherine the scroll.

Luisa filled a goblet with wine and passed it to Isabella. "Here, drink, Your Highness."

John hovered his hand around the goblet as she took a sip.

She let the cool liquid spread over her tongue and the sweetness of the claret seemed to instill some vigor into her veins.

"My dearest Isabella," Catherine remarked loudly. "It seems your prayers have been answered." She grinned and passed the scroll to Luisa then took Isabella's hand. "My brother has finally, finally, thank the good Lord above, made a sensible decision about his life." She laughed, a little burst of emotion. "This is truly the most prestigious of days, is it not?"

Isabella smiled at Catherine's obvious joy. "Yes, yes, it really is."