‘The treasury is depleted,’ said Isabella. ‘We need money. But I would prefer to replenish it through other means.’
‘Are the means so important?’
She looked at him almost coldly. ‘They are of the utmost importance.’
Ferdinand corrected himself quickly. ‘Providing the motive is a good one . . .’ he began. ‘And what better motive than to bring salvation to poor misguided fools? What nobler purpose than to lead them into the Catholic Church?’
‘It is what I would wish to see, but as yet I am inclined to give this matter further consideration.’
‘You will come to understand that the Inquisition is a necessity if you are to make an all-Catholic Castile.’
‘You may be right, Ferdinand. You often are.’ She smiled affectionately. Come, she seemed to be saying, let us be friends.
This marriage of ours has brought disappointments to us both. I am a woman who knows she must rule in her own way; you hoped I would be different. You are a man who cannot be faithful to his wife; I hoped you would be different. But here we are – two people of strong personalities which we cannot change, even for the sake of the other. Let us be content with what we have been given. Do not let us sigh for the impossible. For our marriage is more than the union of two people. What matters it if in our hearts we suffer these little disappointments? What are they, compared with the task which lies before us?
She went on: ‘I wish to show you our new device. I trust it will please you, for it gives me so much pleasure. I am having it embroidered on a banner, and I did not mean to show you until it was finished; but soon it will be seen all over Castile, and when the people see it they will know that you and I stand together in all things.’
He allowed himself to be placated; and she called to one of her pages to bring the piece of embroidery to her.
When it was brought she showed him the partly finished pattern.
She read in her quiet voice, which held a ring of triumph: ‘Tanto monta, monta tanto – Isabel como Fernando.’
She saw a slow smile break out on Ferdinand’s face. As much as the one is worth, so much is the other – Isabella as Ferdinand.
She could not say more clearly than that how she valued him, how she looked upon him as her co-ruler in Castile.
Still he knew that in all important matters she considered herself the sole adjudicator. Whatever their device, whatever her gentleness, she still remained Queen in her own right. She held supreme authority in Castile.
As for the installation of the Inquisition, thought Ferdinand, in time she would agree to it. He would arrange for Torquemada to persuade her.
With Ferdinand on one side to show what material good the Inquisitors could bring them, with Torquemada on the other to speak of the spiritual needs of Castile – they would win. But it would not be until they had convinced Isabella that the Inquisition was necessary to Castile.
Isabella sent for Cardinal Mendoza and commanded that it should be a completely private audience.
‘I pray you sit down, Cardinal,’ she said. ‘I am deeply disturbed, and I wish you to give me your considered opinion on the matter I shall put before you.’
The Cardinal waited respectfully; he guessed the matter was connected with the visit of the two Dominicans.
‘Alonso de Ojeda and Diego de Merlo,’ began Isabella, ‘are deeply concerned regarding the behaviour of Marrams in Seville. They declare that there are many men and women who, proclaiming themselves to be Christians, cynically practise Jewish rites in secret. They even accuse them of kidnapping and crucifying small boys. They wish to set up the Inquisition in Castile. What is your opinion of this, Cardinal?’
The Cardinal was thoughtful for a few seconds. Then he said: ‘We have fanatics in our midst, Highness. I am deeply opposed to fanaticism. It warps the judgement and destroys the peace of the community. Through the centuries the Jewish communities have been persecuted, but there is no evidence that such persecution has brought much good to the countries in which it was carried out. Your Highness will remember that in the fourteenth century Fernando Martinez preached against the Jews and declared that they were responsible for the Black Death. The result – pogroms all over Spain. Many suffered, but there is no evidence of any good that this brought. From time to time rumours spring up of the kidnapping and crucifixion of small boys, but we should ask ourselves what truth there is in these rumours. It was not very long ago that Alonso de Spina published his account of the evil doings of Conversos. Strange, when he himself was a Converse. One feels that he wished it to be widely known that he was a good Catholic . . . so good, so earnest that he was determined to expose his fellows. Very soon afterwards rumours of kidnappings and crucifixions occurred again. I think, Highness, knowing your desire for justice, that you would wish to examine these rumours with the utmost care before accepting them as truth.’
‘You are right. But should they not be examined? And in that case, who should be the examiners? Should this task not be the duty of Inquisitors?’
‘Can we be sure, Highness, that this desire to set up the Inquisition in Castile does not come from Rome?’
Isabella smiled faintly. ‘It is as though you speak my thoughts aloud.’
‘May I remind you of the little controversy which recently occurred?’
‘There is no need to remind me,’ answered Isabella. ‘I remember full well.’
Her thoughts went to that recent incident, when she had asked for the appointment of one of her chaplains, Alonso de Burgos, to the bishopric of Cuenca; but because the nephew of Pope Sixtus, Raffaele Riario, had desired the post it had gone to him. As Isabella had on two previous occasions asked for appointments for two of her proteges – which had gone to the Pope’s candidates – she was angry and had recalled her ambassador from the Vatican. With Ferdinand’s help she had proposed to get together a council, that the conduct of the Pope might be examined. Sixtus, alarmed that his nepotism would be exposed in all its blatancy, gave way to Isabella and Ferdinand, and bestowed the posts they had demanded on their candidates.
It was quite reasonable to suppose therefore that Sixtus would have his alert eyes on Isabella and Ferdinand and would seek some means of curbing their power. How could this be done with greater effect than by installing the Inquisition – an institution which was apart from the state and had its roots in Rome? The Inquisition could grow up side by side with the state, gradually usurping more and more of its power. It could be equivalent to a measure of Roman rule in Spain.
Isabella looked with grateful affection at the Cardinal, who had been thinking on the same lines and who saw the issues at stake as clearly as she did herself.
‘I know Your Highness will agree with me that we must be continually watchful of the power of Rome. Here in Castile Your Highness is supreme. It is my urgent desire that you should remain so.’
‘You are right as usual,’ answered Isabella. ‘But I am disturbed that some of my subjects should revile the Christian faith.’
The Cardinal was thoughtful. In his heart – although this was something he could never explain to Isabella, for he knew she would never understand him – he believed in taking his religion lightly. He was aware that belief – to be real belief – must be free. It was something which could not be forced. This was contrary to the accepted notion, he was fully aware, and for this reason he must keep his thoughts to himself. He wished life to be comfortably pleasant and, above all, dignified. The Inquisition in Aragon, Valencia and Catalonia was, he realised, at this stage a lethargic institution. Its officers lived easily and did not much concern themselves with the finding of heretics. If such were discovered they could, no doubt, by the means of a little bribery and diplomacy, escape disaster.