The visiting embassy called upon her when her decision was made known.

The leaders of this embassy were Dr Diaz de Madrigal, a member of Isabella’s Council, and Fray Fernando de Talavera, her confessor.

Talavera gave Joanna his blessing.

‘You have chosen well, my daughter,’ he said. ‘In the convent of Santa Clara you will find a peace which you have never known outside the convent walls.’ Joanna smiled wanly.

She knew then how fervent had been Isabella’s wish that she would take this course,

Alfonso came to her to take his last farewell.

‘My dearest,’ he said, taking both her hands and kissing them. ‘So this is the end of all our hopes.’

‘It is perhaps better so,’ said Joanna. ‘Many seem to be of that opinion.’

‘It leaves me desolate,’ declared Alfonso. ‘My dearest Joanna, I had made so many dreams.’

‘Too many dreams,’ said Joanna wistfully.

‘What shall I do when you are immersed in your convent? What shall I do when there is an impenetrable barrier between us?’

‘You will govern your country and doubtless make another marriage.’

‘That I shall never do,’ cried Alfonso. His eyes kindled, and Joanna guessed that he was conceiving a new plan to marry her in spite of the Pope, in spite of the agreement he had made with Isabella.

Joanna shook her head. ‘You have agreed to these terms,’ she said. ‘There can be no going back. That would result in a war which might prove disastrous to Portugal.’

‘Must I let you go?’

‘Indeed you must.’

Alfonso’s looks became melancholy. He had abandoned the idea of defiance. He now said: ‘Since you are to incarcerate yourself in a convent, I shall spend the rest of my days in a monastery. As it must be the veil for you, it must be the Franciscan habit for me.’

She smiled at him sadly. ‘You remember, Alfonso,’ she said, ‘that on a previous occasion you came near to entering a monastery. On that occasion, you changed your mind.’

‘This time I shall not change,’ said Alfonso, ‘for this is the only way I can bear the loss of my lady Joanna.’

Never before had Isabella felt so confident, never so sure of her powers.

She had summoned a Cortes to meet at Toledo, and here new laws had been discussed and introduced. Isabella had made it clear that she intended to crush the power of the nobles and to eliminate crime in her dominions as far as possible.

The Santa Hermandad must be extended; only if it were efficient could crime be dealt with, and Isabella was certain that only harsh punishment, meted out to proved offenders, could deter others from following their example. Officers of the Hermandad were sent to every village in Castile, where they took up residence so that order there might be maintained. Two alcaldes were set up in every village. This had to be paid for, and a house tax of 18,000 maravedis was imposed on every hundred householders.

But Isabella was fully aware of the fact that she could not punish with great severity those who carried out their crimes in a small way and allow those who offended on a larger scale to escape.

During the reigns of her father and half-brother many sinecures had been created, and those men who had supported these kings had received large incomes as a reward. Isabella was determined that such drains on the exchequer should cease. Those who supported her must do so for love of their country, not for monetary reward. Thus Isabella deprived Beltran de la Cueva of a yearly income of a million and a half maravedis, in spite of the fact that he had turned from Joanna, alleged to be his daughter, to offer his services to Isabella; the Duke of Alva lost 600,000 maravedis, the Duke of Medina Sidonia 180,000 and Ferdinand’s relative, Admiral Henriquez, 240,000.

This caused discontent among these nobles, but they dared not protest; and thus these large sums, which they had been squandering, helped to support the Santa Hermandad; and the effect of Isabella’s stern rule soon began to be noticed throughout the land.

She was confident that in a few years’ time she would transform the anarchical kingdom, which Castile had been when she had become its Queen, into a well-ordered state; she believed that the empty coffers of the treasury would be filled.

And once she had set her own house in order she would look farther afield.

Her eyes were on the Kingdom of Granada, and Ferdinand was beside her in this. He yearned to go into battle against the Moors, but she, the wiser one, restrained him for a while.

When they went into battle there should be victory for them. But they would not engage in war until there was peace and prosperity at home.

In spite of her preoccupation with state affairs, Isabella tried not to forget that she was a wife and mother. She deplored her own lack of education. Often she thought of those years at Arevalo, where she lived with her mother and her brother Alfonso, and where she was taught that one day she might be Queen, but little Latin, Greek or any other language which would have been useful to her. Her children should not suffer similarly; they should have the best of tutors. Most important of all was their religious instruction. That should certainly not be neglected.

There were occasions when she liked to escape to the nursery to forget the magnitude of the task of governing a kingdom which until recently had been on the verge of decay.

She liked to sit and sew with a few of her women as though she were a simple noblewoman, and talk of matters other than those concerned with the state. There was little time for this, and greatly she treasured those brief hours when she could indulge in it.

It was on one of these occasions, when her women were chattering together, that one of them who had recently come from Aragon talked of a ceremony she had seen there.

Isabella listened idly to the conversation. ‘. . . such a ceremony! The churchmen, brilliant in their vestments. And the one who attracted most attention was, of course, the Archbishop of Saragossa. An Archbishop only ten years old . . . certainly little more. Such a handsome little fellow . . . with all the dignity required of his rank.’

‘An Archbishop, ten years old?’ said Isabella.

‘Why yes, Highness, the Archbishop of Saragossa. He cannot be much more.’

‘He is very young to have attained such a post. The Archbishop of Saragossa must be a remarkable person indeed.’

Isabella changed the subject, but she kept in mind the young Archbishop of Saragossa.

Isabella was discussing that ever-present problem with Ferdinand – the state of the treasury; and she said: ‘I am determined to divert the wealth of the great Military and Religious Orders to the royal coffers.’

‘What?’ cried Ferdinand. ‘You will never do that.’

‘I think I shall.’

‘But how?’

‘By having you elected Grand Master of each of them when those offices fall vacant.’

Ferdinand’s eyes took on that glazed look which the contemplation of large sums of money always brought to them.

‘Calatrava, Alcantara, Santiago . . .’ he murmured.

‘All shall fall gradually into our hands,’ said Isabella. ‘When I contemplate the wealth in the possession of these Orders – the armies, the fortresses – it is inconceivable that they should exist to threaten the crown. We should be able to rely on the loyalty of these Orders without question, to use their arms and their wealth as we need it. Therefore they should be the property of the crown. And when you are Grand Master that will be achieved.’

‘It is a brilliant idea,’ agreed Ferdinand gleefully, and he gave his wife a glance of admiration. At such times he did not resent her determination to stand supreme as ruler of Castile.