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like Henry, to take an occasional lover, but she should have made sure that there was no scandal until long after the birth of the heir to the throne. Joanna had been careless, and, as a result, his little niece – another Joanna – was reputed to be the daughter, not of Henry the King, but of Beltran de la Cueva, Duke of Albuquerque; and so strong was this belief that young Joanna had been dubbed ‘La Beltraneja’, and the name still clung to her. And because Joanna had been declared illegitimate, Isabella was now Queen of Castile. But that state of affairs might not continue; and if he decided to go to war it should not prevail.
    He had been very angry with Isabella. He recalled how he had gone to Castile to become betrothed to her, and she had firmly refused him.
    It was an insult. On one occasion she had declared her unwillingness to accept him as a suitor and had sought the help of the Cortes in averting the marriage. It was too humiliating for a King of Portugal to endure.
    Therefore it would be a great pleasure to turn Isabella from the throne and set the crown on the head of his little niece.
    John was smiling at him now. ‘Think, Father,’ he said.
    ‘When little Joanna is Queen of Castile and your bride, you will be master of Castile.’
    ‘She is my niece.’
    ‘What of that! The Holy Father will readily give the dispensation; especially when he sees that we can put a strong army in the field.’
    ‘And but twelve years old!’ added Alfonso.
    ‘It is unlike a bridegroom to complain of the youth of his bride.’
    Alfonso said: ‘Let us put this matter before the Council. If they are in agreement, then we will give our answer to the Archbishop of Toledo and his friends.’
    ‘And if,’ said John, ‘they should be so misguided as to ignore the advantages of such a situation, it must be our duty, Father, to insist on their accepting our decision.’

     
    Little Joanna was bewildered. From her earliest childhood she had known there was something strange about herself. Sometimes she was called Highness, sometimes Infanta, sometimes Princess. She was never quite sure what her rank was.
    Her father had been kind to her when they met, but he was dead now; and she had not seen her mother for a long time when the call came for her to go to Madrid.
    When her father had died she had heard that her aunt Isabella had been proclaimed Queen of Castile; and Isabella had said that she, Joanna, was to have her own household and an entourage worthy of a Princess of Castile. Isabella was kind, she knew; and she would be good to her as long as she did not allow anyone to say that she was the King’s legitimate daughter.
    But how could a girl of twelve prevent people from saying what they wished to say?
    Joanna lived in fear that one day important men would come to her, disturbing her quiet existence among her books and music; she was terrified that they would kneel at her feet, swear allegiance and tell her that they were going to serve her with their lives.
    She did not want that and all it implied. She wanted to live in peace, away from these awe-inspiring men.
    And now she was on her way to Madrid because her mother had sent for her.
    She had heard many stories of her mother. She was very beautiful, it was said; and when she first came into Castile to be the wife of the King, although her manner had been frivolous by Castilian standards, no one had guessed that she would be responsible for one of the greatest and most dangerous controversies which had ever disturbed the succession of Castile.
    And she, the Princess Joanna, was at the very heart of that controversy. It was an alarming thought.
    She had often met the man who was reputed to be her father. He was tall and very handsome; a man of great importance and a brave soldier. But he was not her mother’s husband, and therein lay the root of the trouble.
    When she saw her mother on this occasion she would ask her to tell her sincerely the truth; and if Beltran de