“God willing, I will not go there myself,” answered Ferdinand, smiling at his impetuosity, which, indeed, was reflected in all around, “therefore you are safe from such a danger. Hell, indeed! Into heaven, rather, that we hope to gain in this crusade against the infidels!” and Ferdinand crossed himself devoutly, for, sagacious as he was, and cunning, he was capable of the utmost depths of superstition. “But,” he continued, “spite of this important adherence, we must still fight. To-morrow I command a strong detachment to lay waste to the Vega, even to the city walls. Let all come to me who will join it. My lords, the council is ended.”
Upon this the knights rose and withdrew with all that grave and stately ceremonial which Ferdinand exacted from his followers. Only the young prince remained.
“Juan,” said Ferdinand, casting on him a look of inexpressible affection (deep down in his heart he was a tender man, and this only son was an object to him of almost adoration), “early and late the Infantes of Spain should learn the lesson of policy. It is a new science come in with modern times. Formerly, kings and princes could only fight. Now they use stratagem, which means the knowledge of the balance of power—state against state, noble against noble, Church against State, all of which would have been formerly despised, but in future will rule the world. You see, my son, these notables of Spain? They are the brightest jewels of my crown, but it is for me, their king, that they should unite their brilliancy. The queen, your honoured mother, and I, have by our entire union formed a mighty monarchy which will descend to you, Infante. But it must be maintained, not by brute force, but by knowledge. Santiago! by knowledge!” and as he spoke he seized Don Juan’s delicate fingers and pressed them in his own hard palm. “You look annoyed. Am I too fierce in my words? But by the blessed Virgin! I love you well, Juan. See, I will conquer Granada for you. But not a lizard runs on the painted walls of the Alhambra, but I know it. So in Spain. All is unfolded to me within our joint kingdom. I balance the great nobles as the player does his dice. I am called wise, my son, this is my wisdom.” Here he again crossed himself devoutly. “Ave Maria,” he said, “the blessed Virgin knows the hearts of men.”
Juan listened with a weary attention to his wise father, little consonant with the statecraft to which these lessons tended. He was a soldier who loved to march with the army and cared not for tortuous policy.
“But I love my mother’s ways best,” said the gentle prince, suppressing a yawn, as he sank back into his chair, “with her Grace all is truthful and open.”
“May Heaven bless her!” cried Ferdinand. “She is a noble wife. But it is our union which makes the strength of Spain.”
In the early summer Queen Isabel sets out from Cordoba to join the army, accompanied by her eldest daughter, Isabel, to become Queen of Portugal, attended by prelates, cardinals, and friars. Her younger children, Juana and Catalina, remain behind.
With her, also, are Beatrix de Bobadilla, now Marquesa de Moya, her loving friend, her secretary, Peter Martyr, the Boswell of her life, her Almoner, the Bishop of Talavera, who, when offered the See of Salamanca, replies he will accept nothing but the See of Granada!!! Garcilaso de la Vega, and her court of dueñas and ladies.
The lovely Infanta has now become a stately matron, exceedingly fair, and somewhat inclined to stoutness, spite of the constant activity of her life. All feel the majesty of her presence, and the sway of the enlightened mind that dictates all her actions. Mistress she remains of herself and of her kingdom, spite of Ferdinand’s continual interference. But her love for him is unchanged, although he is far from being the faithful husband she deserves, and she is much tormented by jealousy.
As Queen of Castile she has assisted him in the war to the utmost of her power. The united Cortes of Castile and Aragon have been invoked by their own sovereigns, and each has made independent provision for the Moorish war “to be pursued to the end,” as necessary to the well-being of the nation.