“You cannot do it.”

“Can I not? I did it before. Why should I not do it again? All know that you are mad. You make no secret of the fact. You shall say a wifely farewell to me and I will go on ahead of you. You will be calm and follow me. You will travel the same road, but some days after me. Is that such hardship?”

“It is always hardship not to be with you.”

He took her cheek between his fingers and pinched hard.

He said: “If you do as I say, I will promise to be a loving husband to you this night.”

“Philip…” She could not quench the longing in her voice.

“Only if,” he went on, “you promise to say a nice, pleasant, calm farewell to me on the morrow.”

“It is bribery,” she said. “It is not the first time. You give me as a concession that which is mine by right, and always you demand a price for it.”

He laughed at her. He was so sure of his power over her. He would spend his last night at Melcombe Regis with her, and in the morning he would leave her behind while he rode on to Windsor to meet the King of England.


* * *

WINDSOR LOOKED PLEASANT to Katharine that winter’s day. She was pleased now that she had left Durham House and was at Court. It would be wonderful to see Juana again, to whisper confidences, to recall the old days and perhaps to explain the difficulties of her position here in England.

With her maids of honor ranged about her she was at the window, waiting for the first signs of the cavalcade.

“I wonder if I shall recognize her,” murmured Katharine. “She will have changed since I saw her, doubtless.”

“It is long since she went to Flanders,” Maria de Salinas reminded her.

Katharine thought of that day, nearly ten years ago, when Juana had set out for Flanders. She remembered the sadness of her mother who had accompanied Juana to Laredo, and how Isabella had returned to find that her own mother—so like Juana in her wildness—was dying in the Castle of Arevalo.

It was all so long ago. What resemblance would Juana, Queen of Castile, bear to that high-spirited, wayward girl who had gone into Flanders to marry Philip the Handsome?

She looked at her maids of honor, but their expressions were blank and she knew that they were thinking of the wild stories they had heard of her sister—how she had bound one of her husband’s mistresses and cut off her long golden hair, how she had thought herself to be a prisoner at Medina del Campo and had escaped from her apartments and refused to return, spending the bitterly cold night out of doors in her night attire. Uneasy rumors of Juana’s conduct continued to come from Flanders.

When I see her, thought Katharine, she will talk to me of her life; I shall be able to comfort her as she will comfort me.

So there she waited, and when the fanfares of trumpets heralded the arrival of the cavalcade, and the King and the Prince of Wales went down to the courtyard to receive the guests, Katharine saw the fair and handsome Philip, but she looked in vain for her sister.

She stood at her window watching the greetings between the royal parties. Surely Juana must be there. She was in England with Philip. Why was she not with him now?

Soon she herself would be expected to descend and greet the guests of the King; but she must wait until summoned; she must remember that there were many at the Court of greater importance than she was.

She gazed at her brother-in-law. He was indeed a handsome man. How haughty he looked, determined to stand as the equal of the King of England; and as he greeted him, by very comparison Henry VII of England seemed more aged and infirm than usual.

But there was the Prince of Wales—already taller than Philip himself—the golden Prince, even more arrogant than Philip, even more certain of his right to the center of the stage.

Katharine could never look upon the Prince of Wales unmoved, and even at such a time as this she temporarily forgot Juana, because she must wonder whether or not that disturbing boy would eventually be her husband.

She heard her maids of honor whispering together.

“But how strange this is! What can have happened to the Queen of Castile?”


* * *

THOSE WERE UNEASY DAYS at Windsor for Philip’s followers—not so for Philip; he was determined to enjoy the lavish hospitality. It was a pleasure to show his skill at hunting and hawking in the forests of Windsor; he liked to ride through the straggling street which was the town of Windsor, and to see the women at their windows, or pausing in the street, as he passed, all with those looks and smiles which he was accustomed to receive from women everywhere. He liked to sit in the great dining hall on the King’s right hand and sample the various English dishes, to listen to the minstrels, to watch the baiting of bears, horses and mastiffs.

He did not know that the King of England only entertained on such a lavish scale when he hoped to profit from doing so.

Glorious days these were, and Philip was in no hurry to leave for Spain. He had met his sister-in-law, poor little Katharine, who seemed to be somewhat ill-used by this wily old Tudor. The girl was dull, he thought; too melancholy, lacking in the gaiety which he liked to find in women. She was shabby compared with the other Court ladies; he had little interest in her.

On the rare occasions when they met she persistently questioned him about Juana. Why was Juana not with him? Why did they not travel together?

“Ah,” he had replied, “I came with all speed on the King’s express desire. I did not wish to subject Juana to such a tiring journey.”

“Would she not have preferred to travel with you?”

“I have to be firm with her. I have to consider her health.”

Katharine did not trust him, and more than ever she longed to see her sister.

Meanwhile the King was making headway with Philip.

There was, sheltering in Burgundy under the protection of Maximilian, a cousin of that Earl of Warwick whom Henry had executed because of his claim to the throne; this cousin was Edmund de la Pole who called himself Duke of Suffolk; and, while such a man lived, Henry could not feel entirely secure. His great aim was to eliminate all those who laid claim to the throne and, with Edmund de la Pole skulking on the Continent, he could never be sure when the man might land in England and seek to take the Crown from him. He remembered his own days of exile and how he had lain in wait for the opportune moment to rise and snatch the throne for himself.

He was subtle in his dealing with Philip, and Philip had not learned subtlety. It was gratifying to the King of England that he had such an arrogant young man to deal with, for this made the way so much easier than if it had been necessary to bargain with Philip’s wiser ministers.

He knew what Philip wanted from him: help against Ferdinand. Well, reasoned the King of England, that sly old fox Ferdinand was ever an enemy of mine.

Henry was finding Philip’s visit stimulating, and he was enjoying it as much as his rheumatism would allow him to enjoy anything.

Henry was eager that there should be a commercial treaty with Flanders and this he obtained—making sure that it should be very advantageous to England.

It was not so easy to bring about the expulsion of Edmund de la Pole, but slyly and subtly Henry reminded Philip that he was held a prisoner in England—by the weather. But Philip knew that there was a veiled threat in the words; and even he did not see how they could leave England if Henry did not wish them to do so.

So de la Pole was thrown to the King, and Henry blessed that storm which had cast this incautious young man upon his shores.

“This is indeed a happy day,” he cried. “See, we have come to two agreements already. We have a commercial treaty between our two countries, and you have agreed to give me the traitor, de la Pole. It was a happy day when you came to visit us.”

Happy for England, thought Juan Manuel; and he was already wondering how soon the fleet of ships, which were now assembling at Weymouth, could be ready to put to sea. He hoped it would be before the rash Philip had made more concessions to his wily host.

“Let us make even happier arrangements,” went on the King of England. “It is the maxim of your House that it is better to wed than to war. If you will give me your sister Margaret I shall be a happy man.”

“There is none to whom I would rather give her,” answered Philip.

“And the Emperor?”

“My father and I are of one mind in this matter.”

“A speedy marriage would please me greatly.”

“A speedy marriage there shall be,” answered Philip. He did not mention that his sister had loudly protested against a match with the old King of England and that, since she had been twice married and twice widowed and was now Duchess of Savoy, she could not be forced against her will into a marriage which was unattractive to her.

But Philip would say nothing of this. How could he, to a man who might be his host but was also to some extent his jailer?

To discuss the marriage of the King’s daughter Mary to Charles was a pleasant enough occupation. That marriage, if it ever took place, would occur far in the future when Philip would be miles away from England. The Prince of Wales’ marriage to Philip’s daughter Eleanor would not, if it ever came about, be so far distant. It was very pleasant to discuss it, although Henry was on dangerous ground, thought Philip, when he talked of marrying to Juana’s daughter a son who had already been promised to her sister.

Well, Juana had no say in these matters.