The Queen's Vow: A Novel of Isabella of Castile Read Online Free Page A

Beatriz opted not to act up, I noted with relief, riding demurely at my side. Yet as we neared Arévalo, streaks of coral inking the sky, I couldn’t help but recall our conversation, and wonder, despite all efforts to the contrary, what it must feel like to be a man.

CHAPTER TWO
     

     
    T he keep was deserted, an anomaly given the hour, and the moment we entered the great hall and saw that the long, scarred central table was not yet set for the evening meal, I sensed that something was wrong. Alfonso and Chacón were in the stables unsaddling and brushing the horses; as Beatriz removed my cloak, I looked at the hearth. The fire had not even been lit. The only light came from the sputtering torches on the wall.
    “I wonder where everyone is?” I said, rubbing my rein-chafed hands together. I tried to sound nonchalant. “I expected to find Doña Clara in the keep with her switch and reprimands.”
    “Me, too.” Beatriz frowned. “It’s far too quiet.”
    I wondered if my mother had fallen ill again while we’d been out riding. Guilt stabbed me. I should have stayed inside. I shouldn’t have gone out so precipitously, without leaving word.
    My governess entered the hall, bustling straight toward us.
    “Here she comes,” whispered Beatriz, but I perceived at once that the concern etched on my
aya
’s face was not for us. If Doña Clara had initially been angered by our escapade, something more important had now taken precedence.
    “Finally,” said Doña Clara, in a tone that lacked its habitual bite. “Where on earth have you been? Her Highness your mother has been asking for you.”
    My mother had been asking for me. My heart started to pound; as if from far away I heard Beatriz say, “We were with His Highness, Doña Clara. Remember? We said we were—”
    “I know who you were with,” interrupted my
aya
, “impertinent child. What I asked was
where
you have been. You’ve been gone over three hours, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
    “Three hours?” I stared at her. “But it hardly felt more than …” My voice faded as I met her grim stare. “Is something wrong? Has Mama …?”
    Doña Clara nodded. “A letter arrived while you were out. It distressed her greatly.”
    My stomach knotted. I reached for Beatriz’s hand as Doña Clara said, “The letter was from court. I took it myself from the messenger, so I saw the seal. The messenger did not wait for a reply; he said it wasn’t necessary. When my lady read the letter, she grew so upset we had to brew a draft of marigold and rhubarb. Doña Elvira tried to get her to drink it but she would not let anyone attend her. She went into her rooms and slammed the door.”
    Beatriz squeezed my hand. She didn’t have to say what we both were thinking. If a letter had come from court, whatever news it brought could not be good.
    “A letter now,” went on Doña Clara, “can you imagine it? After ten years of silence! Of course she’s upset. We’ve lived here for all this time with nary a summons or invitation, as if we were poor relations, an embarrassment to be kept hidden away. Only Carrillo has seen fit to send the payments promised for our upkeep, and even he, a prince of the Church, can’t squeeze gold from an unwilling treasury. Why, if it weren’t for our own livestock and harvest, we’d have starved to death by now. And look about you: We need new tapestries, carpets for the floors, not to mention clothes. His Grace the king knows this. He knows we cannot raise two children on air and hope alone.”
    Her vehemence was not unusual; in fact, her complaints of our penurious situation were so commonplace I hardly paid them heed most of the time. Yet as if she’d suddenly ripped a veil from my eyes, I saw the walls of the hall around me as they truly were, stained with mildew and draped in colorless hangings; the warped floorboards and decrepit furnishings, all of which belonged to an impoverished rural home and not the abode of the dowager