The Merry Monarch's Wife Read Free

Cortigno had been selected for this mission. He must have been an eloquent man and a fervent patriot. I could imagine his words. “The time has come for you to do your duty to your people, Your Highness. The throne could be yours for the taking. The country is behind you. We want you to leave this place and come to Lisbon. We have the men. We have the means. The time has come for Portugal to be free.”
    And my father’s dismayed response, what had that been? At first, I was sure, he would have vehemently refused. Others had tried and failed. He wanted to cling to his pleasant life. He had large estates; he was wealthy; he did not seek to rule; he only wanted to live in peace with his family; he had little stomach for battle; blood would be shed, lives would be lost.
    But there was my mother. She was different from her husband.
    She was the daughter of the Duke of Medina Sidonia; she was proud; she had decided views of right and wrong; and she was ambitious for her family. She believed that my father’s rightful place was on the throne.
    Gaspar Cortigno’s words made a deep impression on her. The people of Portugal were asking my father to rise against the Spaniards and they were ready to stand beside him.
    I can imagine my father’s dismay when she joined her pleas with those of Gaspar Cortigno.
    â€œYour father said he could not do it,” said Donna Maria. “He said it would plunge the country into war. It was better to let life go on as it was. But there was one thing which persuaded him to change his mind.” She looked at me proudly. “It was because of you.”
    I was delighted to think that I was so important—at least had been on this occasion.
    â€œThere you were, in your birthday gown. You looked…er…very pleasant. Your mother took you by the hand, and she said to your father: ‘Could you deny this child her due? Could she grow up the daughter of a mere duke when she is indeed the daughter of a king? It is your duty, if for no other reason than for the sake of this child…and your boys.’ After that your father gave way. What could he do? If he would not act for himself, he must for his family.”
    I knew that Donna Maria’s version was near the truth because I had heard the story from other sources, and I think I remember my father’s serious look as he took me into his arms, holding me tightly and saying: “This must be.”
    And soon after that he left the Villa Viçosa and went to live in Lisbon, where my father was proclaimed King Juan IV of Portugal.
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    I WAS FIVE YEARS OLD when the next momentous event occurred. Both my little brothers were dead. I did remember the sorrowful atmosphere throughout the palace when it happened—one death following quickly on another.
    My mother shut herself in her apartments and appeared rarely, and when she did her grief was apparent; but she was not of a nature to flaunt her sorrow and soon she was emerging to dominate us all.
    I was delighted to see her with us again. I think she had a special fondness for me. She had loved her boys, but they had always been delicate and, although she had never failed in her tenderness toward them, she had a natural distaste for weakness of any kind. I was a healthy girl and she delighted in me.
    I realized that something was happening when I heard Donna Maria and Donna Elvira whispering together.
    â€œCan it be true?” murmured Elvira.
    â€œWhat a blessing it would be…after the tragedy.”
    â€œDo not speak of that. It is too grievous…even now. But if this should be…”
    â€œI shall pray for it.”
    â€œAnd so shall I.”
    I was not sure of what they were speaking, but I sensed there was some secrecy about it, so I refrained from asking my mother.
    We had moved to the palace at Sintra and I saw little of my father. He was always away, driving the Spaniards out of Portugal, I