As soon as the banquet was over the ball games began and here Philip certainly did excel, for he beat all his opponents. Yet how could one be sure, Juana wondered, whether his opponents felt it would be wise to let him win? Nevertheless he played with great skill and she was momentarily happy to see him flushed and taking a boyish pride in his achievements.
He was very hot when the game was won, and he called for a drink. No one was quite sure afterwards who gave him that drink; one thing was certain: he drank deep.
During the dancing and pageantry which followed, several people noticed that he seemed a little tired. But then it had been a strenuous ball game.
When she retired that night Juana lay in her bed hoping he would come to her, although she knew he would not; in four months’ time she could expect the birth of a child, so he would not come—unless of course he wished to placate her, which he seemed nowadays inclined to do at certain times.
There in the quiet of her apartment Juana began to think of the sadness of her life and to ask herself if there was not a curse on the House of Spain. She had heard such a legend at the time of her sister’s death. Her brother, Juan, was dead and his heir had been still-born; her sister, Isabella, had died in childbed and her child had followed her to the grave. That left Juana, Maria and Catalina. Maria might be happy in Portugal, but Catalina certainly was not so in England. As for herself surely none was as unhappy as she was.
She thought sadly of Catalina’s woes. Her sister had talked of them.
“But I did not listen,” whispered Juana. “I could only think of my own miseries which I know are far greater than hers. For what greater tragedy could befall a woman than to have a husband whom she adores with a passionate intensity which borders on madness, but who cares so little for her that he is planning to declare her mad and put her from him?”
There were strange noises in the palace tonight. She could hear the sound of footsteps and whispering voices.
“Shall I wake the Queen?”
“She should know.”
“She would want to be with him.”
Juana rose from her bed and wrapped a robe about her.
“Who is there?” she called. “Who is whispering there?”
One of her women came in, looking startled.
“The doctors have sent word, Highness…” she began.
“Doctors!” cried Juana. “Word of what?”
“That His Highness is in a fever and a delirium. They are bleeding him now. Would Your Highness care to go to his bedside?”
Juana did not wait to answer; she sped through the apartments to those of Philip.
He was lying on his bed, his fair hair made darker with sweat, and his beautiful blue eyes looked blankly at her. He was murmuring, but none understood what he said.
She knelt by the bed and cried: “Philip, my dearest, what has happened?”
Philip’s lips moved, but his glassy eyes stared beyond her.
“He does not know me,” she said. She turned to the physicians. “What does this mean? What has happened?”
“It is a chill, Highness. Doubtless His Highness became too hot during the ball game and drank too much cold water. That can produce a fever.”
“A fever! So it is a fever. What are you doing for him?”
“We have bled him, Highness. But the fever persists.”
“Then bleed him again. Do not stand there doing nothing. Save him. He must not die.”
The physicians smiled knowledgeably. “Your Highness is unduly disturbed. This is but a slight fever. His Highness will soon be playing another ball game to delight his subjects.”
“He is young,” said Juana, “and he is healthy. He will recover.”
She was calm now, because she felt exultant. It was his turn now to be at her mercy. She would let no one else nurse him. She would do everything herself. Now that he was ill she was indeed Queen of Castile and mistress of this palace. Now she would be the one to give the orders and, no matter whom she commanded, they must obey.
ALL THROUGH the rest of the night she was with him, and in the morning he seemed a little better.
He opened his eyes and recognized her sitting there.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You had a little fever.” She laid a cool hand on his brow. “I have been sitting by your bed since they told me. I am going to nurse you back to health.”
He did not protest; he lay looking at her, and she thought how defenseless he seemed, with the arrogance gone from him, and his usually ruddy cheeks pale. She felt very tender towards him, and she said to herself: “How I love him! Beyond all things. Beyond my children, beyond my pride.”
He was aware of her feelings, and even now, weak as he was, he relished his power over her.
“I shall nurse you until you are quite recovered. I shall allow no other woman in the room.”
His lips twitched faintly in a smile, and she thought he was remembering the early days of their relationship when he had found her more desirable than he did now.
He tried to raise himself but he was very weak and, as he moved, he grimaced with pain.
“It is in my side,” he said in answer to her question and, as he sank back, she saw the beads of sweat which had broken out on his smooth brow and across the bridge of his handsome nose.
“I will call the physicians,” she said. “I will send for Dr. Parra. I believe him to be the best in the country.”
“I feel safe…with you,” said Philip, and there was a wry twist to his lips.
“Ah, Philip,” she said gently, “you have many enemies, but you need not fear while I am here.”
That seemed to comfort him and she told herself exultantly: He rejoices that I am here. My presence comforts him. He knows I will protect him. For a time he loves me.
She smiled almost roguishly. “You do not think me mad now, Philip?”
She took his hand which was lying on the coverlet, and he returned the pressure feebly because he felt so weak.
She thought: When you are strong and well you will mock me again. You will try to convince them that I am mad. You will try to put me in prison because you want my crown all for yourself. But now…you need me and you love me, just a little.
She was smiling. Yes, he had taken all her pride. He loved her once for her crown; and now he loved her for the safety he could feel in her presence.
But I love him with all my being, she reminded herself, so that I care not for what reason he loves me, if only he but will.
She rose and sent at once for Dr. Parra.
No one else should come near him. She would nurse him herself. She would forbid all other women to come into this sickroom. She would give the orders now. Was she not the Queen of Castile?
IT WAS FOUR DAYS before Dr. Parra reached Burgos, and by that time Philip’s fever had increased. He was now quite unaware of where he lay or who tended him. There were days when he did not speak at all but lay in a coma, and others when he muttered incoherently.
Juana remained in the sickroom, clinging to her determination that no one but herself should wait on him. He took no food but occasionally sipped a little drink, and Juana would allow no one to offer this but herself.
None could have been more calm than she was at that time. Gone was all the hysteria; she moved about the sickroom, the most efficient of nurses, and all the time she was praying that Philip would recover.
But after seven days of fever his condition grew rapidly worse, and Dr. Parra ordered that cupping glasses be applied to his shoulders and purgatives administered. These instructions were carried out, but the patient did not rally.