She was not what would be considered in these days either a particularly good woman, or an especially good queen.  She did many cruel things; and while she talked much about doing good, she was generally looking out for herself most of all.  But that was not so much her fault as the fault of the times in which she lived.  Her life was not a happy one; but she had always felt kindly toward Columbus, and when he was where he could see her and talk to her, he had always been able to get her to side with him and grant his wishes.

Columbus was now a very sick man.  He had to keep his bed most of the time, and this news of the queen’s death made him still worse, for he felt that now no one who had the “say” would speak a good word for the man who had done so much for Spain, and given to the king and queen the chance to make their nation great and rich and powerful.

CHAPTER XIII.  THE END OF THE STORY.

Any one who is sick, as some of you may know, is apt to be anxious and fretful and full of fears as to how he is going to get along, or who will look out for his family.  Very often there is no need for this feeling; very often it is a part of the complaint from which the sick person is suffering.

In the case of Columbus, however, there was good cause for this depressed and anxious feeling.  King Ferdinand, after Queen Isabella’s death, did nothing to help Columbus.  He would not agree to give the Admiral what he called his rights, and though Columbus kept writing letters from his sick room asking for justice, the king would do nothing for him.  And when the king’s smile is turned to a frown, the fashion of the court is to frown, too.

So Columbus had no friends at the king’s court.  Diego, his eldest son, was still one of the royal pages, but he could do nothing.  Without friends, without influence, without opportunity, Columbus began to feel that he should never get his rights unless he could see the king himself.  And sick though he was he determined to try it.

It must have been sad enough to see this sick old man drag himself feebly to the court to ask for justice from the king whom he had enriched.  You would think that when King Ferdinand really saw Columbus at the foot of the throne, and when he remembered all that this man had done for him and for Spain, and how brave and persistent and full of determination to do great things the Admiral once had been, he would at least have given the old man what was justly due him.

But he would not.  He smiled on the old sailor, and said many pleasant things and talked as if he were a friend, but he would not agree to anything Columbus asked him; and the poor Admiral crawled back to his sick bed again, and gave up the struggle.  I have done all that I can do, he said to the few friends who remained faithful to him; I must leave it all to God.  He has always helped me when things were at the worst.