lairs there was no place in which the Son of Man might lay his head.'
What his Master had done Ximenes must do also.
When they entered the Palace the Queen's messenger immediately called to him.
'Fray Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros?'
'It is I,' answered Ximenes. He felt a certain pride every time he heard his full title; he had not been christenedFrancisco but Gonzalo, and had changed his first name that he might bear the same one as the founder of the Order in which he served.
'Her Highness Queen Isabella wishes you to wait upon her with all speed.'
'I will go to her presence at once.'
Ruiz plucked at his sleeve. 'Should you not wipe away the stains of the journey before presenting yourself to the Queen's Highness?'
'The Queen knows I have come on a journey. She will expect me to be travel-stained.'
Ruiz looked after his uncle in some dismay. The lean figure, the emaciated face with the pale skin tightly drawn across the bones were in great contrast to the looks of the previous Archbishop of Toledo, the late Mendoza, sensuous, good-natured epicure and lover of comfort and women.
Archbishop of Toledo! thought Ruiz. Surely it cannot be!
Isabella gave a smile of pleasure as her confessor entered the apartment.
She waved her hand to the attendant and they were alone.
'I have brought you back from Ocana,' she said almost apologetically, 'because I have news for you.'
'What news has Your Highness for me?'
His manner lacked the obsequiousness with which Isabella was accustomed to being addressed by her subjects, but she did not protest. She admired her confessor because he was no great respecter of persons.
But for the truly holy life this man led, it might have been said that he was a man of great pride.
'I think,' said Isabella, 'that this letter from His Holiness the Pope will explain.' She turned to the table and took up thatdocument which had caused such displeasure to Ferdinand, and put it into the hands of Ximenes.
'Open it and read it,' urged Isabella.
Ximenes obeyed. As he read the first words a change passed across his features. He did not grow more pale - that would have been impossible - but his mouth hardened and his eyes narrowed; for a few seconds a mighty battle was raging within his meagre frame.
The words danced before his eyes. They were in the handwriting of Pope Alexander VI himself, and they ran as follows:
'To our beloved son, Fray Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros, Archbishop of Toledo ...'
Isabella was waiting for him to fall on his knees and thank her for this great honour; but he did no such thing. He stood very still, staring before him, oblivious of the fact that he was in the presence of his Queen. He was only aware of the conflict within himself, the need to understand what real motives lay behind his feelings.
Power. Great power. It was his to take. For what purpose did he want power? He was unsure. He was as unsure as he had been years ago when he had lived as a hermit in the forest of Castanar.
Then it seemed to him that devils mocked him. 'You long for power, Ximenes,' they said. 'You are a vain and sinful man. You are ambitious, and by that sin fell the angels.'
He put the paper on to the table and murmured: 'There has been a mistake. This is not for me.' Then he turned and strode from the room, leaving the astonished Queen staring after him.
Her bewilderment gave way to anger. Ximenes might be a holy man but he had forgotten the manner in which to behave before his Queen. But almost immediately her anger disappeared.He is a good man, she reminded herself. He is one of the few about me who do not seek personal advantage. This means he has refused this great honour. What other man in Spain would do this?
Isabella sent for her eldest daughter.
The young Isabella would have knelt before her mother but the Queen took her into her arms and held her tightly against her for a few seconds.
Holy Mother of God, thought the Princess, what can this mean? She is suffering for me. Is it
What his Master had done Ximenes must do also.
When they entered the Palace the Queen's messenger immediately called to him.
'Fray Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros?'
'It is I,' answered Ximenes. He felt a certain pride every time he heard his full title; he had not been christenedFrancisco but Gonzalo, and had changed his first name that he might bear the same one as the founder of the Order in which he served.
'Her Highness Queen Isabella wishes you to wait upon her with all speed.'
'I will go to her presence at once.'
Ruiz plucked at his sleeve. 'Should you not wipe away the stains of the journey before presenting yourself to the Queen's Highness?'
'The Queen knows I have come on a journey. She will expect me to be travel-stained.'
Ruiz looked after his uncle in some dismay. The lean figure, the emaciated face with the pale skin tightly drawn across the bones were in great contrast to the looks of the previous Archbishop of Toledo, the late Mendoza, sensuous, good-natured epicure and lover of comfort and women.
Archbishop of Toledo! thought Ruiz. Surely it cannot be!
Isabella gave a smile of pleasure as her confessor entered the apartment.
She waved her hand to the attendant and they were alone.
'I have brought you back from Ocana,' she said almost apologetically, 'because I have news for you.'
'What news has Your Highness for me?'
His manner lacked the obsequiousness with which Isabella was accustomed to being addressed by her subjects, but she did not protest. She admired her confessor because he was no great respecter of persons.
But for the truly holy life this man led, it might have been said that he was a man of great pride.
'I think,' said Isabella, 'that this letter from His Holiness the Pope will explain.' She turned to the table and took up thatdocument which had caused such displeasure to Ferdinand, and put it into the hands of Ximenes.
'Open it and read it,' urged Isabella.
Ximenes obeyed. As he read the first words a change passed across his features. He did not grow more pale - that would have been impossible - but his mouth hardened and his eyes narrowed; for a few seconds a mighty battle was raging within his meagre frame.
The words danced before his eyes. They were in the handwriting of Pope Alexander VI himself, and they ran as follows:
'To our beloved son, Fray Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros, Archbishop of Toledo ...'
Isabella was waiting for him to fall on his knees and thank her for this great honour; but he did no such thing. He stood very still, staring before him, oblivious of the fact that he was in the presence of his Queen. He was only aware of the conflict within himself, the need to understand what real motives lay behind his feelings.
Power. Great power. It was his to take. For what purpose did he want power? He was unsure. He was as unsure as he had been years ago when he had lived as a hermit in the forest of Castanar.
Then it seemed to him that devils mocked him. 'You long for power, Ximenes,' they said. 'You are a vain and sinful man. You are ambitious, and by that sin fell the angels.'
He put the paper on to the table and murmured: 'There has been a mistake. This is not for me.' Then he turned and strode from the room, leaving the astonished Queen staring after him.
Her bewilderment gave way to anger. Ximenes might be a holy man but he had forgotten the manner in which to behave before his Queen. But almost immediately her anger disappeared.He is a good man, she reminded herself. He is one of the few about me who do not seek personal advantage. This means he has refused this great honour. What other man in Spain would do this?
Isabella sent for her eldest daughter.
The young Isabella would have knelt before her mother but the Queen took her into her arms and held her tightly against her for a few seconds.
Holy Mother of God, thought the Princess, what can this mean? She is suffering for me. Is it
Similar Books
Jungle Kill
Jim Eldridge
Shakespeare's Scribe
Gary Blackwood
Antarctic Affair
Louise Rose-Innes
The New World: A Novel
Chris Adrian, Eli Horowitz
This Gulf of Time and Stars
Julie E. Czerneda
Atlantic Fury
Hammond; Innes
Mr Mojo
Dylan Jones
Hot Bouncer
Cheryl Dragon
August Moon
Jess Lourey
Boyfriend
Faye McCray