charming; it was clear—for the English made no secret of their feelings—that these men who had come to welcome him in the name of the Queen were agreeably surprised.
Now a barge, lined with cloth of gold and manned by men in the white and green of the Tudor livery, approached the vessel. This was the royal barge which had been sent to carry Philip to English soil; and when he reached the land, the Earl of Arundel begged his leave to perform a little ceremony which, he said, he would do at the express command of the Queen. Philip was then presented with the Order of the Garter.
The company rode to lodgings which had been prepared for them, and there, to the further astonishment of the
This he drank as though it were Spanish wine, smacking his lips, declaring that he could wish to be drowned in such nectar.
The Englishmen were deceived. Who had said a moody, morose man was coming to wed the Queen? Someone had lied to them. This Philip of Spain was a hearty fellow—for all that he was of such low stature.
Only when he was alone with Ruy in that alien house in that alien land did Philip’s features relax into their familiar expression.
“Highness,” said Ruy, “your father would be proud of you. This night you have shown these barbarians a man they will love. You might have been one of them, Highness. It was as though you played a part with mummers.”
Philip was reflective. “There are times, Ruy,” he said, “when I wonder what manner of man I am. I am sober, am I not? And yet perhaps there is in me something of the barbarian I showed these people tonight. But the test lies before me. Oh, fortunate Ruy! You who are soon to delight in the beautiful Ana!”
Ruy lifted his shoulders and smiled. “Perhaps she has lost her beauty before I shall enjoy it. She has been fencing with a page and lost an eye.”
“She is a wild girl, Ruy, but the loveliest in Spain. The most haughty too, I’ll swear. I doubt even the loss of an eye could entirely alter that. Well, your trials will come, Ruy, with Ana. In the meantime … think of me … with Mary. Think of me and pray that I shall not flinch from my duty.”
“Your Highness flinch from his duty! As well imagine that the sun will not rise.”
“Yet pray for me, Ruy, for in this alien land I need your prayers.”
The coldness—although it was July—seemed to penetrate every garment to his bones. His surcoat was of black velvet, twinkling with a hundred diamonds; his trunks and doublet were of shining white satin with a pattern of gold. It was fine at first, yet it seemed drear to the Spaniards, because there was a mist in the air; and they had scarcely begun the journey when the rain began to fall.
It was necessary then for Philip to put on the thick cloak of red felt, but the rain seemed to penetrate even that thickness. People had gathered at the roadside to watch them; they were an ill-mannered crowd. Some of them shrieked with laughter, which could not be misunderstood; they were shouting their derision of the foreigners who were afraid of a drop of rain.
At Winchester it was necessary to stop and change their garments; and here at the Cathedral the bishops paid their homage to Philip. Here the Prince met that Bishop Gardiner—the Queen’s favorite—who rejoiced in his coming and believed that here was a Moses come to lead England back to the promised land.
Philip and his followers were then taken to the Dean’s house.
“Our Queen, being a maiden lady of great delicacy,” explained the Dean, “does not think you should spend a night under her roof until after the ceremony.”
Philip smiled approval of the Queen’s delicacy, and declared that he would be delighted to accept the hospitality of the Dean.
“Her Majesty is lodged in Bishop Gardiner’s Palace, which adjoins the Deanery.”
“Then I see in that a delightful arrangement,” said the new and charming Philip.
In the Deanery a banquet was prepared for Philip and his men.
Once more they removed their wet clothes, but they found the rooms draughty, and in spite of the time of year they were shivering with the cold. The Spaniards were disgruntled; they sensed the contempt of the English; and the new character which Philip had assumed, while delighting the English, was distasteful to them. Never, they declared, had Spaniards been treated with such lack of courtesy. These English had no manners; they were too bluff, too hearty. During the sojourn in Southampton, when his Spanish followers had gone to church with Philip, they had at the end of the service been ordered out by officious Englishmen, they were told that the people would like to see Philip leave the church surrounded by Englishmen. Nor had Philip protested; in his new role he seemed prepared to do everything these people wished. And as they left the church the rain had teemed down, and Philip borrowed a cloak and hat from one of the English and walked forth in the rain in these most undignified garments.
Now at the banquet in the Deanery they were expected to eat the food prepared for them—and not eat delicately either. They must partake of every dish upon the table, and while the English were prepared to tackle the great mounds of beef, venison, peacocks, and pastry, and to wash these down with quantities of beer, the Spaniards must follow their master’s lead and feign to enjoy barbarians’ food with barbarians.
When they had retired to their rooms for the night, Philip said to Ruy: “We have been but a few days in this country, but it seems like years.”
“Your Highness will grow accustomed to it before long.”
“I rejoice that one more day is over.”
But that day was not over, for there was at that moment a knock on the door. Ruy, grasping his sword—for there was not one member of the party who trusted the English—went to the door.
A woman stood there. She said in halting Spanish: “My lord, I am Mistress of the Queen’s Robes, and I come to tell His Majesty that Her Majesty the Queen wishes him to visit her in her closet tonight. It is her wish that he should bring with him but few of his followers.”
