not last much longer. The Prince of Wales was now fifteen—an age when he could be expected to marry. If he married someone else what would she do? What could she do? She imagined that all that would be left to her would be to go into a convent and give herself up to prayer and meditation.
Devout as she was, she did not want that. She wanted children, a happy married life, and she knew that her only hope was the Prince of Wales.
Whenever she saw him he was aware of her; he smiled at her possessively but she fancied there was that in his eyes which demanded gratitude. She
The only consolation was that she would know soon.
Then came the terrible news from Spain. Philip and Juana had arrived in Castile where the Cortes had accepted Juana as the Queen; Philip was given the rank only of consort, which would not please him. In vain had he protested that Juana was mad; the people of Castile accepted her as the daughter of the great Queen Isabella, their true Queen. Philip had to realize, Archduke of Austria that he was, that he was only the consort of the Queen of Castile.
There was another menacing figure in the background too. That was Ferdinand. Henry had often smiled to himself as he contemplated his old enemy. How did Ferdinand feel—he who, through Isabella, had been King of Castile, and now found himself only King of Aragon?
Philip undoubtedly had his enemies, and tragedy struck him at Burgos. No one was quite sure how it happened, but it was believed that it started at a ball game—at which Philip excelled. Being hot from the game, he called for refreshment and drank very deeply from the cup which was brought to him. Soon afterward he began to feel ill, and when people asked each other who had brought that cup to him, no one could remember. Philip was very ill and remained so for some days. Juana herself had nursed him. Katharine heard that she had changed during that time of sickness. Intense as her anxiety was, yet she grew calm and nursed Philip night and day allowing none but herself to supervise the preparation of his food. In spite of her care, one morning she discovered black spots on his body and during that day he died.
They said he had died of a fever but everyone suspected poison. The matter was not investigated very thoroughly because it was remembered that Ferdinand’s envoy had been in Burgos at that time; and with Philip dead, Charles a child, and Juana mad, Ferdinand would become Regent of Castile.
King Henry was astounded by the news. The Prince of Wales shed tears. Philip had been so young, so handsome, so vital, that it was impossible to think of him dead . . . and almost certainly by poisoning. Young Henry wanted to go to Burgos to sift the matter, to find the murderer and inflict terrible tortures on him. “He was my friend,” he said. “We loved each other.”
Charles Brandon was a little cynical, but he did not voice his thoughts. People were beginning to be careful what they said to the Prince.
The King was thinking: that schemer Ferdinand will be in control now. And he wondered what would happen about those plans he had discussed with Philip during his enforced stay in England. What of the bonds of friendship; what of the marriage with Archduchess Margaret?
He was soon to hear that Margaret did not wish to marry the ageing King of England, and he was sure that the proposed marriage between Eleanor of Castile and young Henry would be pushed aside now that Ferdinand would be in control.
What had come out of all the lavish entertainments given to Philip? Henry groaned at the thought of the cost. And what had been gained? He had spent so much time, energy and above all money cultivating the friendship of a man who had died before the year was out.
It seemed that all the good that had come out of that visit was the return of Edmund de la Pole, who was now the King’s prisoner in the Tower.
The King was feeling very weary. His rheumatism was worse; his skin was turning yellow; and he felt ill for a great part of the time.
If I could find a wife, he thought, I should be rejuvenated. It was amazing that with all he had to offer—a crown no less—it should be so difficult to find anyone who wanted it.
Why? Was this an indication of what people were thinking about his hold on that glittering and most desired object?
His friends and ministers implied that he was not his usual wise self in allowing this obsession with holding the crown to play such a big part in his life. They had implied that he had it firmly in his grasp. He had brought much good to England. He had taxed the rich until they groaned and complained bitterly; but he had a strong economy; he had a prosperous country; and if he demanded taxes from all those who could afford to pay them—as well as from those who could not—he had never lived extravagantly. None could say that the money squeezed from his long- suffering subjects was spent on his own amusements. He was never extravagant unless deep consideration told him that it was wise to be so. Money was only spent if it could bring back gains which exceeded the expense.
And then suddenly he had the idea. Juana! She was a widow now. She was very attractive—quite a beauty in fact. She was Queen of Castile. Why should she not come back to England as his bride?
He sent for Dr. de Puebla and sounded him.
De Puebla had aged considerably and the damp climate of England had not been good for his health. Yet he stayed on knowing that his position as the go-between and friend of the King of England, though he served a Spanish master, was more interesting and remunerative than anything he could have attained in Castile.
De Puebla was a little taken aback at the King’s suggestion.
“My lord . . . she is but recently widowed. She is not quite balanced as you saw for yourself. Moreover she remains so enamored of her late husband that she has had him embalmed and carries his coffin about with her wherever she goes. She has just given birth to a daughter. . . . It seems hardly the time. . . .”
Hardly the time! Time was a sore point with the King. He could feel it slipping away from him. He must get a wife quickly.
“She has shown that she is fertile,” said the King. “She is beacutiful. She pleases me very much.”
