Louis XI. was astute enough to develop such a policy to his own advantage; but the feeble Henry IV. was no more able to control his new creations than their rivals. Almost without exception they betrayed and sold him for their own ends, poisoning his mind against the few likely to remain faithful, and making his name odious amongst his poorer subjects by their selfishness and the corruption of their rule.
The conspirators of Burgos were thus enabled to pose as the defenders of national liberties; and their insolent letter of censure took the colouring most likely to appeal to popular prejudice. Complaints of the King’s laxity in religious matters, of the unchecked violence of his Moorish guard, of the debasement of the coinage, and of the incompetence and venality of the royal judges—these were placed in the foreground, but the real crux of the document came later. It lay in two petitions that were veiled threats, first that the King would deprive the Count of Ledesma of the Mastership of Santiago, since it belonged of right to the Infante Alfonso, and next that the said Alfonso should be proclaimed as heir to the throne. The illegitimacy of the Princess Joanna was openly affirmed.
Henry received this letter at Valladolid, and, calling together his royal council, laid it before them. He expressed neither resentment at its insolence nor a desire for revenge; and when the aged Bishop of Cuenca, who had been one of his father’s advisers, bade him have no dealings with the conspirators save to offer them battle, he replied with a sneer that “those who need not fight nor lay hands on their swords were always free with the lives of others.”
Peace at all costs was his cry, and the old Bishop, exasperated, forgot prudence in his anger. “Henceforth,” he exclaimed, “you will be thought the most unworthy King Spain ever knew; and you will repent it, Señor, when it is too late to make amends.”
Already knights and armed men were flocking to the royal standard, as they heard of the rebels’ ultimatum. Many of them were genuinely shocked at the attack on the dignity of the Crown, but for the greater number Henry’s reckless prodigality of money and estates was not without its attractions.
The King, however, proved deaf alike to warnings and scorn. After elaborate discussions he and the Marquis of Villena arranged a temporary peace, known as the Concord of Medina del Campo. Its terms were entirely favourable to the conspirators, for Henry, heedless of the implied slur on his honour, agreed to acknowledge Alfonso as his heir, on the understanding that he should later marry the Infanta Joanna. With incredible shortsightedness he also consented to hand his brother over to the Marquis; and on the 30th of November, 1464, the oath to the new heir to the throne was publicly taken. This was followed by the elevation of the Count of Ledesma, who had resigned the Mastership of Santiago in favour of the young Prince, to the rank of Duke of Alburquerque.
The question of the misgovernment of the country and its cure was to be referred to a committee of five leading nobles, two to be selected by either party, while the Prior-General of the Order of San Geronimo was given a casting vote. This “Junta of Medina del Campo,” held in January, 1465, proved no lasting settlement, for the King’s representatives allowed themselves to be won over to the views of the league, with disastrous results for their own master.
“They straitened the power of the King to such an extent,” says a chronicler, “that they left him almost nothing of his dominion save the title of King, without power to command or any pre-eminence.”
Henry was roused at last, but it was only to fall a victim to fresh treachery.
Two of the most prominent members of the league in its beginnings had been Don Alonso Carrillo, Archbishop of Toledo, uncle of the Marquis of Villena, and the Admiral of Castile, Don Fadrique Enriquez. The former had little of his nephew’s suave charm and adaptability, and his haughty, irascible nature was more suited to the camp than the Primacy of the Castilian Church.