The first act of the assembly was to recommend that all parties should disarm—the king as well as the infante, the constable as well as the king of Navarre. But this recommendation led to no result; both parties continued exasperated as before. That of the king was weakened by the desertion of his only son, Prince Henry, who espoused the cause of the confederates. The queen followed the example of her son: in short, the aspect of affairs was so menacing that Don Alvaro began to turn his eyes towards Portugal in search of an asylum. Through the persuasion of the king, however, who assured him that everything should be arranged to his wish, he consented to await the result.
The horrors of internal strife were now felt in all their force; city after city was invested and taken by the confederate rebels, who showed little mercy to the partisans of the king and constable. In vain did Juan whisper peace; in vain did he appear to abide by the decision of his states, which he might summon for the purpose: as he did not at once and forever banish Don Alvaro from his presence, his entreaties and remonstrances were equally disregarded. In 1443 the rebels obtained possession of the king’s person and held him as a kind of prisoner in his own palace. Though their subsequent efforts were somewhat paralysed by the defection of Prince Henry, who even called on all good men to aid him in rescuing his father from a slavish dependence on them, they persevered not the less in their design. They took the field against both the prince and the father, who now contrived to escape and reach the camp of the former. But on this occasion the confederates were routed and dispersed in several successive actions, and their strong places recovered by the royal forces. Their estates were seized by the king, and they themselves forced to seek refuge in Aragon or Navarre. Subsequently, both the king of Navarre and his brother, the reckless Henry, collected troops, and invaded, the one Castile, the other Murcia; but without any other result than that of harassing the innocent peasantry, or wreaking vengeance on their personal enemies. Finally the victory of Olmedo, gained by Juan in person over the two brothers, the acquisition of a considerable number of prisoners, and the death of Henry (of Aragon) through a wound received in that battle, appeared to consolidate both the power of the king and the influence of the favourite.
THE FALL OF ALVARO
[1445-1453 A.D.]
But royal attachments are seldom permanent, because they are seldom founded on merit; and because the minds of men, especially those of kings, are generally incapable of any lasting impression. Though the favour of Juan II had been protracted far beyond the limits of ordinary duration, it was not to prove an exception to the usual course of human experience. Soon after the battle of Olmedo, the partiality of the monarch began to be weakened. Years elapsed before Juan could put into execution his long-meditated design of destroying his constable. His attention, indeed, was long distracted by the irruptions into his territories of the Aragonese and Navarrese, in conjunction with the Castilian exiles; and by the partial revolts which from time to time agitated his kingdom (that of Toledo for instance, occasioned by an exaction, under the name of a loan, of a million maravedis, was not suppressed without much difficulty). It was not until the year 1453, that he seriously resolved to rid himself of this formidable minister.
To rashness, and an insolent contempt of the royal power and authority, Don Alvaro soon added the crime of murder. Knowing that Alfonso de Vivero, one of his creatures, was become his secret enemy, he planned the destruction of that false confidant. One day he held in his own house a council, to which Alfonso was summoned. On the appearance of the latter, he was shown the correspondence which he had held with the king relative to the constable’s arrest, and which Alvaro had intercepted. The confusion of the traitor would have been evidence enough of his guilt, without the incontestable documents then produced. On a signal from the constable, he was dragged to the top of the tower, precipitated headlong, and dashed to pieces on the ground below. The creatures of Alvaro suddenly raised a note of lamentation, as if the fall had been purely accidental; but the king was soon acquainted with the truth, and the more confirmed in his purpose of vengeance.
[1453-1454 A.D.]
Don Alvaro was at Burgos, when the order for his arrest was given by the king to the son of the count of Plasencia, to take him dead or alive. During the night, troops were secretly placed in various parts of the city and at the entrance of the fortress, into which some men-at-arms were silently introduced. The royal order was to invest the house in which the constable resided, and thereby compel him to surrender. Accordingly the young Zuñiga, with two hundred men-at-arms and twenty horsemen, surrounded the house, exclaiming, “Castilla! Castilla! libertad para el Rey!” The constable showed his head from a window; but an arrow being shot at him, he withdrew it, and his men began to fire on the royal troops. The assault was repelled; but he himself was at length persuaded to surrender, on receiving an assurance in writing, under the king’s own hand, that his life, liberty, and even possessions should be spared. No sooner, however, was he secured, than his gold and jewels were seized by the faithless monarch, and orders given to try—in other words, to condemn him. Twelve lawyers and several barons, being assembled for this purpose, unanimously passed on him the last sentence and the confiscation of all his possessions. From Burgos he was conducted to Valladolid, where the execution was appointed to take place.
He prepared for death with firmness, and with apparent contrition for his past misdeeds. During the night preceding the execution, the king’s mind was far from tranquil. He remembered the real services of the constable through so many years, the affection he had once borne him, and the promise he had made of sparing his life. The remembrance was so troublesome that he once or twice delivered a sealed paper to the chamberlain on duty, which he wished to be taken to Zuñiga—doubtless, to stay the execution. Hearing of his agitation, the queen, whose conduct throughout was exceedingly vindictive, hastened to him, and succeeded in suspending rather than removing his scruples. As the fatal hour approached, Don Alvaro, mounted on a mule, and attended by two monks, left his house for the scaffold. On the way, the public herald, according to custom, vociferated his crimes and punishment. “I deserve all this,” said he, “and more, for my sins!” When near the scaffold, he called a page of the prince, and said to him, “Page, tell my lord the prince to reward his servants better than the king, my sovereign, now rewards me!” He ascended with a firm step, knelt for a few moments before a crucifix, bared his neck with his own hands, and quietly laid his head on the block, when the executioner plunged the knife into his throat, and afterwards separated the head from the body, amidst the tears of the surrounding multitude.
Thus fell the great constable of Castile, the victim, chiefly, of his own immeasurable ambition, and in no mean degree of courtier jealousy and of royal faithlessness. If his crimes were many, they were characteristic rather of the age than of the man: he was certainly no more criminal than the great body of the Castilian barons, who despised alike justice and reason when violence could secure their ends. To him the queen was indebted for her crown; yet she persecuted him with unrelenting hatred. The numbers whom he had enriched forsook him as his favour declined; three only of his army of dependents remained faithful to the last. And as to his trial, the most eminent legal authorities of Spain have satisfactorily proved that in his case both the spirit and forms of justice were disregarded.