Chapter Six

T he next morning, they set off for Granada and the Palace of Alhambra. When Isabella had woken and looked out at the beautiful ornate courtyard and elegant chapel in which they'd married, she couldn't understand why Charles was so insistent they move on. Surely, they would be comfortable here in Seville for any length of time.

But insistent Charles was and after he was sure everything had been packed and organized—it seemed he liked to manage things in fine detail—they mounted two bay steeds and set off at the head of their cortege.

Mules pulled wagons full of trunks of clothes, food, and apothecary. Two dozen knights rode white horses, animals and men in full armor, helmets and manes decorated with gold and red plumes. A cart pulled crates of chickens and two pigs were also on for the ride. Mixed into the group were courtiers and servants also on horseback.

It would take three days to make the journey east to Granada. Isabella would be glad when they arrived.

"I am thankful Queen Catherine agreed for Luisa to travel with me," Isabella said to Charles as they navigated a wide track through a shaded forest. "She is also very fond of her."

He wore black breeches and an armored vest over a scarlet tunic. Attached to his leather belt was a long, sheathed sword that rested on his thigh. He adjusted his black cap and turned to her. "I am grateful too. I sense she is your friend as well as a lady-in-waiting."

"Yes, I have known her for many years. I find her quite fascinating."

"You do?" He appeared surprised.

"Yes, she has a brilliant mind for poetry." Isabella smiled. "Something that interests me."

"It does?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "I have so much to learn about you, and I suspect learn from you."

"You had a fine education, with your aunt."

"Indeed. She employed only the best scholars." Charles nodded.

"And your father, did you learn much from him?"

"If you recall, I was only six when he died." Charles turned to look straight ahead. "So I can't say that I did. Nothing that was of use, anyway."

The set of his mouth told her not to pry, so she took a different approach. "How about your grandfather, the great Maximilian?"

Charles seemed to relax slightly. "Yes, from him, I did learn, although he was a busy man with many lands thanks to his sometimes risky policy of maximum expansion."

"Why do you think it risky?" She was genuinely curious.

"He was constantly on the hunt for more power. Intent on taking as much land and as many titles as he could, but when he had it, he had to wait for heirs to come along to rule it."

"He did well with male grandsons. Both you and Ferdinand have control of the Spanish and the Austrian Habsburg line now."

"Yes, though Ferdinand has not been overly happy since his recent move to Austria. Now he is insisting on transporting his beloved Spanish horses to Vienna. Apparently, the Italian breeds are not to his liking."

"Why not bring his horses, if it is what he wants and he has the means to?"

"It seems it is what he desires more than almost anything—though of course a son with his wife, Anna, is his true priority."

"I will pray that happens for him."

"Look." Charles pointed forward. "A goshawk. Can you see it?"

Isabella peered forward and saw a ghostly bird with an enormous wingspan moving silently through the trees. Its belly was pale and dotted and its eyes flashed her way. "Yes, yes, I see it."

"They are exceptionally good hunting birds. I hope to fly one in Granada."

"You intend to hunt while we are there?"

"Yes, some of the time." He paused and smiled at her, leaning a little closer. "Though like my brother, I intend to work on creating sons."

She felt her cheeks flush as memories of the night before came rushing back. From all the fragments of information she'd accumulated about wedding nights, what she'd imagined could not have come close to what was. Charles had made her feel things she hadn't known she was capable of feeling. Taken her to places she hadn't known existed. And now she was looking forward to being alone and naked with him again to see what other things he had in store for her inexperienced body.

He was studying her as though amused by her blush. "I hope that plan will please you."

She cleared her throat and tightened her grip on the reins. "I intend to be a good and dutiful wife."

He laughed softly. "I believe that will come naturally."

"As will being empress. It is my destiny. It is what my mother planned for me."

"So, Empress, can you help me with a dilemma?"

They had come to the end of the woodland and before them, the track wound down through a valley of vineyards. "Of course. If I can."

"You know I hold the King of France a prisoner in Madrid?"

"Yes, I had heard," she said.

"He is an angry man, power-hungry too, which makes him dangerous." Charles paused and rubbed his chin. "We have signed a treaty, together, with which I have come off very favorably. Peace should be maintained, but…"

"But you do not trust him to keep his side of the deal."

"No." He frowned her way. "I do not. He would put a knife in my back as quickly as I saved him from a bloodthirsty mob of soldiers."

"That hardly seems Christian."

"It is what I must deal with." He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Though I cannot keep him behind locks and bars forever…or perhaps I can."

"You cannot. It is asking for another war with France and much blood will be spilled." She thought for a moment. "So take something of his that is dear to him and hold it in his place."

"What do you mean?"

"He has sons, does he not?" An idea was forming in her mind.

"Yes, two. They are young, but not infants."

"And to a king, sons are his most precious possessions, so do a trade. Release Francis and in his place lock up his sons."

"Hold them hostage?"

"Yes. And if he breaks the treaty…" She didn't want to finish that sentence. "Which hopefully he won't because he'd know it would not be in his sons' favor."

"Mmm." Charles nodded slowly. "That is a good idea and it would get me out of the position of holding a king prisoner yet not make me too vulnerable to his madness and vengeance."

Isabella was quiet, sensing the cogs of his mind were turning.

"Francis and Henry, those are his sons' names." Charles nodded. "But I fear I will make enemies for myself in the future should I take them prisoner."

"That might be the case, but treat them well, educate them, and you might even earn some loyalty from them."

"I cannot imagine that, but yes, I believe I will discuss this idea with my council." He reached his hand between their horses.

She placed hers in it.

"I thank you, Empress, for your insightfulness and wisdom. That is not a solution I would have thought of and I have been pondering the situation for many days."

"I am glad to be of use. And I do hope to be of more use than just being a baby vineyard." She nodded at the vines and retook her reins.

He laughed. "Baby vineyard? My beautiful wife, you are already everything to me. More than I could have ever hoped or imagined. It is I who wishes to be more for you." He paused. "I intend to make up for every day I kept you waiting. What a fool I was."

"It is life's rich tapestry." She shrugged.

"I like that you see it that way, but it will not stop me from showing you my undying devotion from this day to my last to make up for my failings." He shook his head as he studied her. "What a fool I was."

*

Finally, after a bone-weary journey with cold nights in tents and hot days on horseback, they arrived at the vast fortress that was the Palace of Alhambra.

Over the turrets and ramparts, steeples, and slanting, tiled roofs, the sun had streaked the sky orange, and in the distance mountains loomed, their peaks coated with snow.

"It is so big," Isabella said as they rode up a cobbled lane toward it. "Enormous. A large town is within it, surely."

"Yes, the Moors certainly didn't lack imagination when it came to buildings, nor creativity. It has its own water supply, which is very reliable, as well as public baths and workshops of every kind. It is an independent city with a total of six smaller palaces within it." Charles looked up at the imposing walls and even higher watchtowers that led them into the complex. "Ferdinand and Isabella made it their Royal Court after Reconquista, reclaiming it for Spain."

"They claimed many things for Spain."

"For Spain and for us." He smiled. "Look how our flags fly."

Overhead, a sea of flags fluttering lazily in the evening breeze lined the walk up to the huge, stone entrance that led into the palace grounds. Above the horseshoe arch was a carving showing a hand with five extended fingers. An image she didn't recognize but was clearly important to the Moors.

Rows of armed soldiers holding pikes upward and staring straight ahead held serious expressions as the arriving horses' hooves clattered past them, and the wagons' wheels rattled.

"Finally, we will have a bedchamber with privacy, and a marital bed," Charles said as they navigated up a steep ramp. "I am sorry for your long and tiring journey so soon into our marriage."

"It could not be helped." She smiled, trying not to show how exhausted she was, how her spine ached, her limbs dragged heavily, and her eyelids could barely be kept open. Three days in the saddle over hills and through valleys had been long enough.

She tried and failed to suppress a yawn as they entered a rectangular plaza, its four walls an arcade of arches, the lower half of which were decorated with blue and white tiles. They came to a stop beside a fountain.

"We are here. Soon you can rest," Charles said, frowning at her. "My love, you are quite pale."

"I apologize. I really don't feel…" She could barely find the words. Suddenly, she felt so weak. As though she'd managed to ride the last few hours on willpower alone, but now that she didn't need to stay atop her horse, her body had given up.

"Isabella!" Charles jumped off his horse, his feet landing with a thump on the sandy-stone ground.

Her peripheral vision had black specks dancing in it and her head was floating. She tried to stay upright but found herself slumping forward.

And then Charles's strong arms were around her, pulling her from the horse. He was shouting instructions to servants and courtiers, but his voice sounded as though it were far away.

She gave up and closed her eyes, succumbing to the overwhelming need to black out. Her faith in him to catch her, hold her, was absolute.

"My love," he whispered against her head. "I've got you. You're safe."

She mumbled something—she wasn't sure what. Gratitude filled her heart. Relief that her husband was a good and caring man. Strong too, for now she was scooped into his arms, against his chest. When they'd gotten closer to Granada and the threat of bandits had diminished he'd removed his armor. Now she was pressed against the soft material covering his warm body. His muscles were solid around her, unyielding, holding her as though she weighed almost nothing. He still held the lingering scent of the sage soap he used, though now it was mixed with sunshine and leather.

"You will soon be resting in the cool," he said, striding forward. "The journey is over now, I promise."

She curled her fists into his tunic and let her head rest heavily in the crook of his neck.

"Luisa, follow me," Charles called over his shoulder. "Alvaro, bring our trunks through the wine gate, to the palace's royal quarters."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Alvaro responded with his usual clipped manner. He was a trusted servant of Charles's and he was never far away.

But Isabella couldn't concentrate on the business of the servants; it took all her time to breathe in and out, though thankfully, the black dots had gone from her vision.

"I blame myself entirely," Charles said. "I asked too much of you after the journey from Lisbon to Seville, from which you had barely recovered."

"It is not your fault," she murmured. "Please don't say it is."

"I will make it up to you, I promise." He huffed. "Something I seem to have to do a lot of when it comes to you, but do not fear, I am good for my word."

"I know you are." Whizzing past her was the interior of the palace. Walls the color of burnt orange peel that had intricate stucco designs on every curve and pillar. Strange calligraphy adorned small, stone canvases, and the sound of trickling water was all around.

"We will be comfortable here," Charles said, entering the shade of a building. "And when you are stronger you will enjoy the view."

"I think I can walk."

"You might think that, but I will not risk my precious empress falling." He continued to stride. "I am keeping you in my arms, where I know you are safe."

Isabella didn't argue; the tone of Charles's voice told her it would be futile.

The sounds of the courtyard faded as they entered a large bedchamber. The scent of sandalwood filled the air and candles flickered in darkened corners.

"I wish you to rest," Charles said, gently setting her on a wide, soft bed. "I will see you in the morning."

"No. Wait." She grasped his wrist. "Please. We have spent these last nights apart as we traveled. I wish to lie with you."

"You are not strong enough." He frowned, the shadows dancing on his face.

"I assure you I will be." She swallowed, her mouth dry. "After I have eaten something and Luisa has helped me refresh."

He shook his head. "I could not forgive myself if I delayed your recovery."

"You won't… Don't you see? I will feel worse if you leave me. I need you. I need my husband."

He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. "And I need you too." Very gently, he set a kiss on her lips. "I have some things to attend to, then I will return."