Unfortunately, real feelings, if they had ever been in tune, ceased to correspond with these outward rejoicings. Henry soon tired of his bride, probably because he was legally bound to her, and bestowed his attentions instead on a Portuguese lady of her retinue, Doña Guiomar. The latter increased the Queen’s mortification by her insolent behaviour; and, after a stormy scene, in which royal dignity was thrown to the winds and slaps and blows were administered, Henry removed his mistress to a country-house. The Court, watching to see which way the wind would blow, divided into factions according to its decision; the Marquis of Villena supporting the Queen, the Archbishop of Seville the cause of Doña Guiomar. Matters became even more serious when scandal, always busy with the King’s name, began to attack the honour of his bride. Queen Joanna, who according to Zurita had objected to the match from the first, was incapable of the gentle resignation of her predecessor, Blanche of Navarre. As extravagant and devoted to pleasure as her husband, she had no intention of playing the rôle of deserted wife. “She was a woman to whom love speeches were pleasant ... delighting more in the beauty of her face than in the glory of her reputation.” Such was the court chronicler’s summary of her character; nor did public opinion remain vague in its accusations. Amongst the principal Castilian nobles was a certain Beltran de La Cueva, who by his handsome looks and adroit manners had gained for himself the King’s confidence and the lucrative office of “Mayordomo,” or Lord High Steward. On one occasion the King and Queen had been entertaining the ambassadors of the Duke of Brittany at their country-house at Pardo. Returning to Madrid after three days’ hunting, they found on nearing the city that Beltran de La Cueva, gorgeously arrayed, was waiting lance in hand to challenge all who came by that road. This was a form of entertainment highly popular with the chivalry of the time; and the tiers of scaffolding erected for spectators were soon crowded. Every knight, as he rode up, was summoned to tilt six rounds with the Mayordomo or to leave his left glove in token of his cowardice. If he succeeded in shivering three lances, he might go to a wooden archway, resplendent with letters of gold, and from there take the initial of the lady of his choice. This famous “Passage of Arms” lasted from morning till sunset; and thus to the satisfaction of the Court did Beltran de La Cueva maintain the cause of an unknown beauty, to whom rumour gave no less a name than that of royalty itself.