Reign of Madness Read Free Page B

himself, “forgive my tears of joy. I am overcome by how miraculous it is that we should be speaking of these things now, with these riches from my voyage before us, after so many years of opposition by so many of the principal persons of your household”—he paused, avoiding Papa’s cool gaze—“all of whom were against me and treated this undertaking as a folly. I thought I would never see this day.”
    Mother leaned forward. “Look what you have done with three ships and your own implacable will. This is what makes the success of your voyage so precious to me. It proves the theory dearest to my heart: that if a person so wills it, he can achieve anything.”
    Papa pursed his lips.
    Mother settled back. “I should like to greet your sons.”
    Colón bowed, unable to conceal his pleasure. “Your Sacred Majesty, we would be deeply honored.”
    He turned toward the boys in my brother’s household, who until now had been holding their clanking to a minimum. Metal struck metal as they moved to allow one of Juan’s pages to step forward.
    The youth looked to be close to Juan’s age of nearly fifteen; he held the hand of a little boy of perhaps four or five. Both were dressed in my brother’s particolored livery of scarlet and green.
    “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Colón said, “for allowing my sons, Diego and Fernando, to serve your illustrious son the Prince.”
    Haltingly, Colón’s sons advanced on Mother’s throne. I had seen the older boy, Diego, before, with Juan’s household, but did not know he was Colón’s son. He was always on the edge of Juan’s crowd, though he was handsome, in a somber way, with a narrow face, smooth black brows, and hair the shining brown of a bay stallion. I could not remember him jousting with the other boys, nor was he one to tease me when I passed, like the others. I had thought that his indifference to me was due to his being the ambitious son of a foreign duke, that he had found my rank in my family too low for his aspirations. I was appalled, therefore, to learn that I had been shunned by the son of a sailor. He must think me as ugly as a sheared ewe.
    This Diego stopped before Mother and fell on his knees. Then, just as he leaned in to kiss her hand, his little brother dashed forward and pecked it. Laughter echoed from the low stone arches of the hall.
    Mother pronounced, “This younger one has his father’s bold will.”
    Diego Colón sank back on his heels, shock, love for his brother, and shame chasing across his face.
    At that moment, one of the long-legged rats slipped its leash. Estrella, tempted beyond limit of reason, leaped yipping from my sleeve and chased the creature under Mother’s throne. I screamed as her guard thrust his halberd at my pup. The Indios thrashed against their chains and wailed in terror.
    “Juana!” Mother’s glare was more terrible than her cry.
    I pulled Estrella from under the gold fringe of her throne.
    “No harm done, Isabel,” said Father. “It’s just a rat.”
    I stood up, Estrella squirming in my arms. It was then that I noticed the row of hazelnut-sized rubies on the collar of Father’s robe. One of them was missing.

2.
    17 April anno Domini 1493
    I n the family legend that Mother loved to recount and that my younger sisters clung to like mystics to the Cross, Papa, determined to win her hand in marriage, had tramped all the way from Zaragoza to Valladolid disguised as a muleteer. He’d had to come on the sly because Mother’s brother King Enrique had forbidden the two cousins to marry. A marriage uniting the bloodlines would have weakened Enrique’s own daughter’s claim to the throne. But when my eighteen-year-old mother saw seventeen-year-old Papa in his rags, so handsome with his dark complexion, hooded eyes, and tranquil demeanor, she had to have him. They were married immediately. An hour after the ceremony, their attendants were on the balcony of their bedroom, holding out the stained sheets of their marital