So many people wedged unexpectedly into quarters at best not spacious led to embarrassing complications. To add to the confusion, the ladies of the royal household who had endured the long journey and the bitter cold thus far without murmuring were now in tears because, through a misunderstanding, several chests containing their most sumptuous gowns had been sent on ahead in the impression that they contained household linen!
Weary and distraught, they fell to quarreling. There were arguments over precedence in relatively unimportant matters, such as who should bear which side of the Queen's train; the footmen carrying the litter of the Countess de Uruena, appointed by Philip as camar era-may or, head lady-in-waiting, to Her Majesty, jostled the litter of two French princesses in procession and there were shrieks and accusations. So the tempests in the feminine royal teapots raged and, in spite of the overwhelming number of gentleman ushers, advisers, and other supernumeraries, it was the fifteen-year-old Queen who had the responsibility of settling all differences. She did it with consummate dignity and tact.
Throughout the long journey Elizabeth had found herself thinking increasingly about one person she was bound to meet sooner or later at that journey's end: Don Carlos. Her mother had warned her to see as little of him as possible. "This youth is evil/' Catherine had said with a characteristic nod to emphasize her words. "Not only is he mad, but he hates his father for having, as he puts it, stolen you, his rightful bride. Do not encourage him to enter your presence chamber. Beware of him as you would the pox." Now, with the Spanish border crossed, Elizabeth was wondering just how she was to accomplish this.
On the 4th of February, mounted on her palfrey, Elizabeth arrived at the palace of the Mendoza family in Guadalajara where Philip awaited her. She must have been beautiful to look at. The housings of her palfrey were cloth of silver embroidered in a design of the lilies of France. Her habit was black velvet over an under-dress of white satin with deep gauntlet cuffs of heavy cream lace which also edged the high collar. Her hair was brushed back and up and caught in a caul of gold net set with precious stones, and perched jauntily on her head was a black, beretlike, velvet cap with a white ostrich tip curling over its left brim. Her gloves were softest cream kid.
No one watching her as she dismounted at the portals of the castle could have suspected the dread in her heart, the terrible nervousness that made her bite her lips to steady them. Surrounded by princes of the Church in their rich vestments, seeing on all sides the grim, ascetic faces of men high in the ranks of the Inquisitors, she crossed the great
vestibule to where Philip s sister, Dona Juana, waited with
her ladies.
There were courtesies and brief formal speeches, then the ranks opened to admit the King. Just what had Elizabeth expected? For an instant she shut her eyes. She opened them to see a rather handsome man smiling down at her. His eyes were very blue, his hair and beard red-gold, and Philip, being a Hapsburg, had inherited the outthrust chin and full lower lip of the family.
Long Journey '7
The young Queen sank in a profound curtsy, but before the obeisance could be completed, she felt herself gently raised by her elbows and pressed for a moment to the King's breast. What words of welcome he spoke no one knows, but fear drained slowly from Elizabeth's heart and when she answered him it was with rosy cheeks and smiling lips. The nightmare had passed.
According to Spanish law the marriage ceremony must be solemnized immediately and a beautiful temporary altar had
been set up in tLe great hall of the palace. There Cardinal Mendoza and Cardinal de Burgos read the service and celebrated the nuptial mass. A hidden choir of boys' voices sang the beautiful Te Deum Laudamus } a cloud of incense hung for an instant about her head, and so did Elizabeth of Valois become Her Most Catholic Majesty, the Queen of Spain.
Several hours later, rested and refreshed, and again in her bridal gown of cloth of gold, Elizabeth stood beside Philip, greeting their subjects. During a lull the King became conscious that Elizabeth had been staring at him for some time.
"What is it, dear Elizabeth?" he asked, smiling a little ruefully. "Did you expect to find me a graybeard?"
She could only smile, shutting in threatening tears of happiness as his fingers closed around hers.
Chapter 6 FACTIONS
WHILE the cortege of the young Queen of Spain wound its tortuous way across the mountains Catherine, her mother, faced many problems at home. The cause of the French Protestants, the Huguenots, was growing; more and more of the nobility and aristocracy were joining it and, as if in a hysterical hurst of retaliation, the Cardinal of Lorraine increased his horrible work of torture and slow death until even his own lieutenants sickened and begged him to stop. But apparently he could not.
Francis and his younger brothers, Charles, Henry, and Hercules and their sister Marguerite were forced to watch these frightful cruelties and one day, in order to keep from fainting, Francis deliberately focused his gaze upon his mother standing a few paces away. What he saw filled him with a new kind of awe. Far from showing any pity for the
slowly dying victims, Catherine was giving them her fullest, calmest attention. What Francis saw in her face was a look of concentrated wonder at their endurance, that was all. In businesslike fashion she was simply estimating the strength of the Huguenot cause. People who died
