“He is certainly very good-looking. You see, Juana, I have no state here. They say I am to marry the Prince of Wales. We have gone through a ceremony . . . but shall I? What does our father say of this matter?”

“He has said nothing as far as I know.”

“But . . . I am his daughter.”

“I think he is not pleased that I have the crown. He always wanted it, you know. He married our mother for it. But I have it now . . . and I have Philip. Philip loves me . . . because I have the crown of Castile.” She caught Katharine’s arm and held it tightly. “If I did not have the crown of Castile he would cast me off tomorrow.”

“Oh no. . . .”

“Yes, yes,” cried Juana. The wildness in her eyes was very evident. “Oh he is so beautiful, Katharine. He is the most beautiful creature on Earth. You have no idea. What have you known of men such as he is? Your Arthur . . . what sort of man was he?”

“He was good and kind,” said Katharine quickly; she was becoming alarmed by this wildness in Juana. She always had been. When they were in the royal nurseries in their childhood their mother would come when the attacks started. She was always able to soothe Juana.

“I am not to be lightly set aside,” said Juana. Then she began to tell Katharine how she had cut off Philip’s mistress’s golden hair. She began laughing immoderately. “I shaved her head. You should have seen her when we had finished with her. We bound her hand and foot. Her shrieks were such as would have led anyone to believe we were cutting off her head instead of her hair. She looked so odd . . . when we’d finished. We shaved it all off. Oh, it was so funny. . . .”

“Juana, Juana, do not laugh so loudly. Juana, be calm. I want to talk to you. I want you to speak to our father . . . I want him to know how I live here. I cannot go on like this . . . He must do something. Help me, Juana. Help me.”

A dreamy expression had come into Juana’s eyes. “He will not escape me,” she said. “He cannot, can he? Not while I have the crown of Castile. He threatened me. Oh little Catalina, you have no idea . . . he would put me away . . . if he could. He will try to . . . but I won’t let him. I am the Queen of Castile. I . . . I . . . I . . .”

Katharine closed her eyes; she did not want to look at her sister. She knew that it was hopeless to look for help from her. Perhaps it was as well that the next day she would be leaving for Richmond.

The King was relieved to see Katharine depart. He did not think there was much danger to be expected from her but he was a cacutious man and he did not take risks. Philip was clearly not inclined to listen to her complaints and as for her sister she was not in a state to. Still it was as well not to have her at Court. She was an embarrassment in any case; and her clothes were decidedly shabby. He did not want unpleasant questions raised.

There were other things to discuss. He did not see why Philip should not make some definite matrimonial arrangements for him before he left. Philip had a rich sister Margaret. Her name had been mentioned before but there had been the usual prevarications. Then there was another matter. Even more important. He would not really feel at ease until Edmund de la Pole was safe in the Tower. It was alarming to have him wandering about on the Continent. One could never be sure who would rally to his cause if he attempted to get back and claim the throne.

A heaven-sent opportunity had brought Philip to these shores. He would not have been Henry Tudor if he had not made the most of that good fortune.

First of all he must make Philip his friend. Young, good-looking, susceptible to flattery, it should not be difficult. Young Henry was very useful. The two of them went hawking and hunting the wild boar together; they seemed to understand each other very well. The Prince of Wales had grown up in the last few months. Fifteen this year. A little young for marriage perhaps, but it might be that he and Philip could discuss the boy’s marriage. After all Philip was not on the best of terms with Ferdinand even though he was his father-in-law; and he certainly showed no sympathy for Katharine. There were numerous possibilities and the King decided to try them all.

First he was going to bestow on the Archduke the greatest honor he possibly could. He was going to create him a Knight of the Garter.

Philip was enchanted, and ready to discuss all that Henry wished and proved himself to be very ready to concede the King’s requests.

He would be delighted, he said, for Henry to have his sister Margaret Archduchess of Savoy and he believed she would be overjoyed to come to England.

“I am sure that Maximilian would never allow his daughter to come without a dowry.”

“My father would insist on giving her a dowry worthy of her rank.”

Henry’s eyes gleamed. He could not resist tentatively suggesting a figure.

“Somewhere in the region of thirty thousand crowns,” he murmured.

Philip did not flinch. It seemed to him a likely figure, he said.

Oh yes, surely such a guest was worthy of the Garter.

In St. George’s Chapel the ceremony took place and young Henry had the honor of fastening the insignia about Philip’s leg; and the friendship was sealed more firmly when the marriage contract between Henry and the Archduchess Margaret was signed.

It had indeed been a memorable visit.

But there was one question which Philip evaded; and that was the return of the Earl of Suffolk.

It was a matter he would have to discuss with the Emperor, he said.

“Oh my lord,” laughed Henry, “it is you who would have the last word, eh?”

Philip hated to admit that this was not so.

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