For a Queen's Love: The Stories of the Royal Wives of Philip II Read Online Free

being unkind to Philip’s great-aunt, Queen Catharine.
    “One day, my son, all these tasks will fall to your lot. One day you will have to face them as your father does now.”
    He knew it. Always the talk came back to that. It was the recurring theme. Already, although he was not yet three years old, he must begin his preparations. Yet he could not understand why, if his father always won, he did not put an end to the strife. Why did he not kill all his enemies and thus win everlasting peace? Philip was silent; there was so much to learn.
    “Now I will tell you a story,” said his mother. “Once upon a time there was a wicked man. He was a monk, and so he should have been a good man. But the Devil made him his own, and, with this monk, decided to destroy God’s Holy Catholic Church. Do you know the name of that monk, Philip?”
    This was the oft-told tale. This was his nursery legend. He knew the story of the wickedest man in the world, so he answered promptly: “Martin Luther.”
    She was pleased with him. “And what did he make throughout the world?”
    He could scarcely pronounce the word; but he knew it and he would be able to say it for his father when he came: “Heretics.”
    She took his face between her hands. “Yes, my son, this wicked monk has gone about the world preaching evil until it has spread through Germany, Holland … the Netherlands. The poor, simple people there listen to the bad man and they believe what he says to be the truth. One day it will be your task to fight these heretics. You will have to drive them from the world as your great-grandfather and great-grandmother drove the Infidels from Granada. They must not be allowed to live, because living, they spread their evil. You will drive them from the face of the Earth. You will have the might of your father to help you, all the might of the Holy Inquisition.”
    He smiled, but he was tired. There was too much talk of what he would have to do in the future; he wanted to do something pleasant
now
. He wanted to play, but there was no one to play with, except his little sister Maria, and how could such a solemn boy play with a baby?
    So patiently he listened while his mother continued to talk of the great tasks that lay ahead of him.
    He was four years old—a baby no longer.
    They had talked to him very seriously before they made the journey to Avila.
    “Remember,” said his mother, “that all eyes will be fixed upon you. This is a solemn occasion. As you ride through the city the people will shout your name; they will be thinking: There is the Prince. There is the boy born to be King and Emperor. You must show no fear. You must show nothing but calmness … dignity and pride in your rank. How I wish your father could be here.”
    Father, King, and Emperor. They were just names to the boy. He did not remember ever seeing the man. He visualized a giant, toweringabove all others, dressed in garments that dazzled the eyes—brave, beautiful, strong … the greatest man in the world. The thought of his father frightened him, for continually he was told that he must grow like him. How could he? He was not big enough—even for his age. He was inclined to be breathless. He was not clever enough; he asked a great many questions, but they were often the wrong questions.
    He wished that he was more like his sister, who was now three years old. She laughed aloud without thought, never asking herself: Is it right for me to laugh? Everyone loved her. They shook their heads over her high spirits, for she too had her destiny prepared for her. If she knew, she did not care. She continued to laugh and play and charm those about her. “She’s all Hapsburg!” people said. “She’s her grandfather all over again.” Her grandfather was that Philip the Handsome, the husband of the grandmother whose name was spoken in whispers, the mysterious grandmother of whom Philip could discover very little.
    “Leonor,” he said, “why must I go to