Festina Lente

Chapter Ninety-Three: What Comes Next

27th of December 1535 - Royal Palace of Tordesillas

Standing in the darkened chamber awaiting an audience with Joanna of Castile, Isabella of Portugal, Dowager Queen of Spain did not wish to ponder the very thing that had brought her here this day. 

Her husband was dead and buried, the royal court of his dominions were in mourning and Isabella found herself regent to her son, the new King; who was still but a child and there was much for her to consider. 

It had been decided since the death of her husband that the court must leave the Convent of Las Descalzas Reales in hopes of further avoiding the contagion that had claimed the King's life. 

After what felt like an age, the doors to Joanna's chamber opened and Isabella straightened her back as she gently rested a hand on Philip's shoulder and nudged him towards the room. 

It was a matter of presence, one that Charles had taken when he had come into his throne after the death of his grandfather with his mother imprisoned. 

Isabella knew that Philip could only take his rightful place as his father's heir with her blessing, even if it meant depriving her of her throne yet again. 

The very notion hurt Isabella and she wished that there could be another way, however the country needed stability something that it could not be offered if Joanna claimed her throne. 

Seated before the fire, her eyes cast down on the book that she was reading contently as the party entered her chambers and the doors were closed behind them. 

Joanna kept her eyes low, focusing on the latin words before her as she made the travelling party wait; she might not have much power but she had power enough to do this and she knew that they wouldn't be the only visitors this day. 

Finally, Joanna looked up, she took in the mourning attire that they were all wearing but she kept a mask of indifference in place as Isabella stepped forward to speak. 

"Your Highness, I bring you the grave news that on the 12th of this very month. Your beloved son was called from this world by the Lord himself," Isabella stated, her voice cracking as she did so and she willed away the tears that threatened to fall. 

It was not the time nor the place for her to grieve, she had to be strong for the sake of her children; they needed her to be strong not a crying mess.

The room was quiet after Isabella had spoken, all eyes focused on Joanna to see how she would take the news that her eldest boy was gone; all fearing that the madness might claim her as it had done when her husband had died. 

Instead, Joanna set down her book and stood from her stool in front of the fire; the long robes that she was wearing ill-suited for the Queen of Castile and Aragon as she moved forward. 

"May God have mercy on his soul," Joanna mused crossing herself, her eyes flickering over those that Isabella had with her before they settled upon her eldest grandson. 

Perhaps with the right guidance he would turn into a better man than what his father had been, there would be no more bloodshed if she had her way. 

"Kneel before your Queen," Joanna instructed, her hands moving to clasp before her as she stared down at her grandson who seemed rather nervous. 

Only when his mother moved to do so did he follow her lead, a wary glance cast at the stern face of his grandmother who stared down at him. 

"It is my consent, as I am the only one who has such power, that, in my name, you govern these kingdoms which undoubtedly belong to you as well," Joanna said, her hands trembled slightly as she spoke and willed herself onwards.