“I fear His Highness has retired for the night,” began Ruy.
But Philip was immediately beside him, forcing a smile. The woman, seeing him, dropped a deep curtsy.
“The Queen wishes to see me!” cried Philip. “Then I am delighted, and eagerly will I go to her. But I must have a few moments in which to make myself presentable.”
The woman rose and looked at Philip with admiration. He could see by her expression that she was wondering who had circulated those ridiculous stories about Philip of Spain. Solemn! Full of ceremony! Nothing of the sort! She would go back to her mistress and report that she had seen him and that he appeared to be not only handsome, but the kindest of men.
“Then may I send the Queen’s envoy in ten minutes to conduct your Highness to her?”
“I am all impatience,” said Philip.
The door shut on her and the two men looked wearily at each other.
“There is no help for it,” said Philip. “Now … for another change of costume.”
Ruy helped him put on the French surcoat with gold and silver embossments; the doublet and trunks were made of white kid, decorated with gold embroidery.
“We must not go alone,” said Ruy. “How do we know what these people plan? I’ll summon Feria and Alba … and I think Medina Celi, Egmont, and Horn … with perhaps a few more.”
Philip did not answer. He was thinking: Now the moment has come. Now I shall be brought face to face with my bride.
In ten minutes he was ready, surrounded by those grandees who Ruy had considered should accompany them.
The messenger from the Queen led them out of the Deanery and across a small garden to the Palace of the Bishop of Winchester. They mounted a staircase, and the messenger threw open a door and announced: “His Highness King Philip.”
Philip went forward. He was in a long gallery, the walls of which were hung with tapestry. Pacing up and down in a state of acute nervousness was a little woman. With her was Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester; some other gentlemen and ladies, obviously of high rank, were also in the gallery.
She stood still as Philip entered.
For a moment he thought her a charming sight. She was magnificently dressed in black velvet, cut away at the waist to show a petticoat of silver; the coif which adorned her sandy hair was of black velvet and cloth of gold; about her waist was a girdle made of flashing stones of many colors.
Philip approached and with a qualm kissed her on the mouth in accordance with the English custom. He saw the warm color flood her transparent skin; he saw too that, although she was far from being as ugly as she had been represented, she was a woman completely lacking in physical attractiveness. On her face were lines put there by ill-health and bitterness; clearly she showed herself to be a woman who had so far gone unloved through life.
What had she heard of him? he wondered. That he was cold, moody, and hardly ever smiled? Now he was all smiles, all eagerness.
“It was good of your Highness to come,” she said in Latin, for although she understood Spanish well enough to read it, she did not speak it.
He answered in Latin: “The Queen commanded. She must be obeyed. Nor was it any hardship when she commanded me to do that for which I have been longing these many weeks.”
What is happening to me? he asked himself. How can I talk thus? Have I really become this hypocrite, this sly schemer?
But it was not only expediency which made him wish to please; she moved him—not with love nor physical desire, but with a deep pity.
She looked a little younger now, flushed, excited, clearly liking the looks and manners of the man who was to be her husband. She led him to a canopy, at one end of the gallery, beneath which had been placed two royal chairs. They sat, and one by one the Spaniards came forward to kiss the Queen’s hand.
When this was done, the party went into the next room that Philip might greet the Queen’s ladies; and this he did by kissing them all on the mouth. As the Queen watched him, it was clear to many of the Spaniards that she did not care to see Philip salute her ladies thus. They considered that significant. Was she already half in love with her Spanish bridegroom? That augured well. Soon England would be completely under the domination of Spain.
After he had saluted the ladies, the Queen led Philip back to the gallery.
“Your Majesty will have a busy time before her,” said Philip solicitously. “I will not stay to tire you.”
“Nay!” cried Mary. “I am not tired. It is so pleasant to see you. Let us stay here and talk for a while.”
There was nothing to be done but sit under the canopy. The Queen signified that ceremony was to be set aside. The Spaniards might talk as well as they could with those of her ladies and gentlemen who were in the gallery, and leave Philip to the Queen.
She looked at him almost shyly. “You are different from what I have been led to expect,” she said.
“I trust I do not disappoint you?”
“Far from it. Far …
“Then I have my heart’s desire.”
“I was afraid … being so unversed in the ways of love and marriage. I thought you might be a lusty gentleman given only to carnal pleasures and …”
“Nay,” he said with a smile. “I shall be a sober husband.”
