We must, thought Philip wryly. There is nothing else we can do.
It was not long before, with Juana beside him, he was standing on dry land.
One man had put himself in front of the crowd and it was clear that he was a person of some authority.
“I am Sir John Trenchard,”he said. “Squire of these lands. I welcome you ashore.”
“Thank you,” said Philip. “Tell me where we are?”
“You have landed at Melcombe Regis . . . you just missed Weymouth. All along the coast your ships have been watched. There’ll not be many which have escaped the storm I fear, my lord Archduke. I thank God that you are safe. My house and household will be at your service and I doubt not you would wish to come with me right away.”
“There is nothing I should desire more,” said Philip.
“Then let us go. We are close by. You can have food and shelter at least.”
The manor house was warm and cozy after the rigors of the night and Philip could not feel anything but relief and an overpowering joy that his life had been saved. The savory smells of roasting meat filled the hall and he gave himself up to the pleasure of taking advantage of the comforts his host had to offer.
Lady Trenchard was giving urgent orders in the kitchens and throughout the household, while her husband dispatched a messenger to Windsor that the King might know without delay what an important visitor Sir John had in his house.
The King received the news with an excitement so intense that for once he felt unable to hide it. Philip in England! Shipwrecked! At his mercy in a way. Fortune could not have been more favorable.
The weather was bad; the heavy rain was causing floods all over the country and although the violent wind had abated a little it was still wreaking damage throughout the land.
Henry blessed the storm. Nothing could have worked more favorably for him. Philip must be accorded a royal welcome, he said. He should be met and brought to the Court where Henry would devise such hospitality which would astonish all those who were aware of his reluctance to spend money. He was sure Dudley and Empson would agree with him that this was one of those occasions when it was necessary to spend.
He sent for young Henry.
The Prince had a faintly resentful look in his eyes. The King knew what that meant. He would soon be fifteen years of age and he resented being kept so closely under his father’s surveillance.
Often the King had impressed on his son how much depended on him, what great responsibilities would be his, and it was then that he grew faintly uneasy because he saw that faraway look in the boy’s eyes, which meant that he was seeing the time when he would be king and imagining what he would do when his father was no longer there to restrain him.
“Be thankful, my lord, for the Prince’s good health and looks and his popularity with the people,” said his ministers.
“I am,” replied the King, “but sometimes I think it would be better if he were a little more like his brother Arthur was.”
“The Prince will be strong, my lord. Have no fear of that.”
And he sighed and supposed they were right. He knew that some of those who wished him well believed that he looked for trouble; he was never at ease and was always expecting disaster. Well, that was so; but then it was due to the way in which he had come to the crown.
Now he looked at his son.
“You have heard the news doubtless. The Archduke Philip has been shipwrecked on our shores. He is at Melcombe Regis with his wife.”
“Yes,” said Henry. “I have heard it. Philip and Katharine’s sister.”
The King frowned. He would have to pay a little more respect to Katharine now that her sister and brother-in- law were here, he supposed. But he was faintly irritated that his son should mention her.
“You are always saying that you are not allowed to take a big enough part in important matters. Well, my son, here is your chance. Philip must be welcomed to our shores. Quite clearly I cannot go to meet him. I do not want to treat him as though he is a conqueror, do I? But I wish to show him honor. I intend to make this visit memorable . . . for myself as well as for him. So I shall send you, my son, to welcome him. You will go at the head of a party and greet him in my name.”
Henry’s eyes sparkled. How he loves taking a prominent part! thought the King. How different from Arthur!
“You will treat Philip with every respect. You will welcome him warmly. You will tell him of our pleasure in his coming. Now go and prepare to leave. I will see you before you set out and will prime you in what you will have to say to our visitor.”
Henry said: “Yes, my lord.”
He was all impatience to be gone, thinking: What shall I wear? What shall I say? Philip of Austria . . . son of Maximilian . . . one of the most important men in Europe, one whose friendship his father was eager to cultivate. He would excel. He would show everyone how he would handle delicate matters. . . .
“You may go now,” said the King. “I will see you before you leave.”
Henry was off, calling to Charles Brandon, Mountjoy . . . all his friends.
An important mission entrusted to him at last!
In her apartments Katharine heard the news. Her sufferings had not diminished since she came to Court. In
