Spain for the Sovereigns Read Online Free

implores me to visit him at the Palace. He wishes to talk with me on an urgent matter. He has something to say to me which he wishes to say to no other.’
    Gordo threw back his head and laughed aloud.
    ‘So he has come to heel, our little Ferdinand, eh! And so it should be. This young bantam! A boy! What more? They say that in Castile he is the one who wears the skirt. Well, as Dona Isabella can keep him in order in Castile, so can Ximenes Gordo in Saragossa.’
    He waved a gay farewell to his wife and children, called for his horse and rode off to the Palace.
    The people in the streets called to him: ‘Good fortune, Don Ximenes Gordo! Long life to you!’
    And he answered these greetings with a gracious inclination of the head. After all, he was King of Saragossa in all but name.
    Arriving at the Palace he flung his reins to a waiting groom. The groom was one of the Palace servants, but he bowed low to Don Ximenes Gordo.
    Gordo was flushed with pride as he entered the building. He should be the one who was living here. And why should he not do so?
    Why should he not say to young Ferdinand: ‘I have decided to take up my residence here. You have a home in Castile, my Prince; why do you not go to it? Dona Isabella, Queen of Castile, will be happy to welcome her Consort. Why, my Prince, it may well be that there is a happier welcome awaiting you there in Castile than you find even here in Aragon.’
    And what pleasure to see the young bantam flinch, to know that he realised the truth of those words!
    The servants bowed to him – he imagined they did so with the utmost obsequiousness. Oh, there was no doubt that Ferdinand was beaten, and realised who was the master.
    Ferdinand was waiting for him in the presence chamber. He looked less humble than he had expected, but Gordo reminded himself that the young man was arrogant by nature and found it difficult to assume a humble mien. He must be taught. Gordo relished the thought of watching Ferdinand ride disconsolately out of Saragossa, defeated.
    Gordo bowed, and Ferdinand said in a mild and, so it seemed, placating voice: ‘It was good of you to come so promptly at my request.’
    ‘I came because I have something to say to Your Highness.’
    ‘First,’ said Ferdinand, still mildly, ‘I shall beg you to listen to me.’
    Gordo appeared to consider this, but Ferdinand had taken his arm, in a most familiar manner, as though, thought Gordo, he accepted him as an equal. ‘Come,’ said Ferdinand, ‘it is more private in my ante-chamber, and we shall need privacy.’
    Ferdinand had opened a door and gently pushed Gordo before him into a room. The door had closed behind them before Gordo realised that they were not alone.
    As he looked round that room Gordo’s face turned pale; in those first seconds he could not believe that his eyes did not deceive him. The room had been converted into a place of execution. He saw the scaffolding, the rope and a masked man whom he knew to be the public hangman. Beside him stood a priest, and several guards were stationed about the room.
    Ferdinand’s manner had changed. His eyes glittered as he addressed Gordo in stern tones. ‘Don Ximenes Gordo, you have not long to make your peace, and you have many sins on your conscience.’
    Gordo, the bully, had suddenly lost all his swaggering arrogance.
    ‘This cannot be . . .’ he cried.
    ‘It is to be,’ Ferdinand told him.
    ‘That rope is for . . . for . . .’
    ‘You have guessed right. It is for you.’
    ‘But to condemn me thus . . . without trial! Is this justice?’
    ‘It is my justice,’ said Ferdinand coolly. ‘And in my father’s absence I rule Aragon.’
    ‘I demand a trial.’
    ‘You would be better advised to concern yourself with the salvation of your soul. Your time is short.’
    ‘I will not submit . . .’
    Ferdinand signed to the guards, two of whom came forward to seize Gordo.
    ‘I beg of you . . . have mercy,’ he implored.
    ‘Pleasant as it is to hear you