It was May 20th, and Isabella had all of her nobility assembled at court. Today was to be a special occasion, for the court at Madrid was receiving a guest. Ferdinand, king of Aragon, was to be Isabella's "special" guest for the day.
The Marques de Mancha opened the doors to the large throne-room where the queen held court. He marched into the room in true military fashion, followed by his armed guards. Being carried by them was Ferdinand, chained and clothed in a burlap sack. He was covered in rotten food, thrown at him by the peasants of Castilla when he was paraded through the streets of Madrid during the morning. The stench was truly horrifying.
Yet, it was his demeanor that was the most pitiful. He was little more than a blubbering mass of tears and whining as he was brought before the queen. His words were strung together in incoherent phrases that had no bearing on the situation at hand. At the most, he could be heard calling for his "mama".
Mancha deposited the heap of incoherence in front of the queen, quite unceremoniously. The queen paused for a moment, and let the general mirth of her nobles calm down, before she began her "performance".
"Noble Mancha, who is this wretch you bring before our court here?" She was grinning as she said this, for it was her idea to make sport of Ferdinand before forcing him to sign a treaty.
"My chaste queen, it is the king of Aragon. You do remember Ferdinand, do you not?"
"I did not recognize him, noble Mancha. When I last saw him, he was finely dressed and well spoken in language, even though he was also trying to rob me of my virtue."
"Ah, I'm sure our Savior will forgive him those offenses, my chaste queen, though it appears the rabble never will."
"Why do you say this, Mancha?"
"Because, it is them who stripped him bare and threw their refuse upon him. I could not stop them, for their anger with him was great."
"I doubt it not, noble Mancha. Our people are a good people, and they hate sinful lechers. They recognize an attack on their queen's body is an attack on them."
"What shall we do with him, my chaste queen? Execute him? Torture a confession of his sinful nature from him? Force him to work in a field during the harvest?"
"Nay, noble Mancha. He seems to be not a threatening figure now. Without his soldiers and castles, he is not such a big man. I think this is telling, and it suggests the suitable punishment."
"What is that, my chaste queen?"
"We shall strip all of his lands from his kingdom, save his perosnal fief in Aragon. All of his nobles shall become our nobles, and his Itallian possessions will become my possessions, as penance for his lechery. Then let us see him try and be lecherous with me, without his armies and castles!"
A loud murmur of agreement ran through her nobles, even as the disgusting form of Ferdinand shook and twitched upon the floor. A page brought in a large scroll, containing a peace treaty. Contained in this treaty was provisions that granted Castile all of Aragon's lands, save Aragon proper. The page handed the scroll to his queen. Isabella signed it with flourish, and the page then handed it to the grotesque sight of Ferdinand.
Ferdinand, trembling, reached for the quill, and signed the document in barely legible scrawl. Then the assembled nobles broke out in applause and cheers, while Ferdinand slumped to the floor.
"Come, my nobles, let us go to the celebration ball for this victory. God has blessed our kingdom of Castile, so let us enjoy His blessing."
The assembled nobles shouted loudly.
"Viva la reina!"
As the assembled retinue left the throne room for the ballroom, the queen gave knowing glances to Algarve and Valencia. The nobles had agreed with her compromise regarding the disposition of lands from the war. The fun had at Ferdinand's expense was just the icing on the cake.
Once the room was empty, Ferdinand remained on the floor in chains. He conitnued to mumble incoherently while he smeared the filth on his body. Some would later say that this dementia that overtook him was the result of the torture the Castilians put him through. But if anyone could read his mind, they would see only one recurring thought.
I was defeated by a woman. My God, I was beaten by a woman....
