Mary was silent. She had been tactless again. She shouldn’t have mentioned Henry because Katharine wanted to marry him and she was not sure that he wanted to marry her and there was a lot of fuss about some dowry, which upset Katharine a great deal.
“I was hoping to see my sister,” said Katharine. “She is not with the party?”
“Oh, Queen Juana . . .” Mary was just about to say Mad Juana and remembered in time that she was Katharine’s sister. “She is staying behind . . . She has to rest. . . .”
Mary’s voice trailed off. Then she was at the window.
“They look very dull,” she said, “except my father . . . and Henry of course . . .”
Katharine was thinking: What if I am invited to the banquet? Is my ruby brooch big enough to hide the darn in my velvet gown?
But she was not thinking very seriously about what she would wear. The one thought which kept hammering in her mind was: Where is Juana?
The King led his guest into the castle. As they walked he congratculated the Archduke on his escape and assured him of his own delight in the outcome.
“I have long desired to talk with you, my lord Archduke, and now fate in this rather churlish way has gratified my desire.”
Philip replied as graciously. He could only rejoice in his shipwreck since it had brought about this happy meeting.
The state apartments of the castle were magnificent and Philip admired them. Then Philip was conducted to the most splendid apartment of them all, hung with cloth of gold and crimson velvet, and as it was lavishly decorated with Tudor roses Philip realized that the King was giving up the royal bedchamber to him.
It had been the custom of kings during the ages when they wished to show especial honor that they gave up this most intimate of their apartments. In medieval times often the guest had been expected to share the King’s bed. Later this custom had been altered a little and now it was customary to relieve the guest from sharing and offer only the bedchamber.
But it was indeed the ultimate honor and Philip was delighted.
The King had realized that it would not be possible to exclude Katharine from the celebrations; but the fact that her sister Juana had been left behind to follow later was an indication that he need not worry too much about the treatment the Princess had received in England.
With his usual shrewdness he had summed up Philip. Ambitious, wily to an extent, luxury loving, something of a libertine, a young man whom it should not be difficult for such as himself to handle, and he intended to get the most advantage from the visit.
Young Henry had already succumbed to the visitor’s charm. There had been no need to warn him to flatter the young man; he was doing that unconsciously. The King thought uneasily: there is a similarity between them. Will Henry be like Philip when he comes to the throne?
But that was a long way ahead, the King hoped, although his rheumatism was dreadfully painful particularly in such inclement weather as this. But he had time ahead of him; if he could get a wife he would feel renewed.
Katharine received the message. She was to appear at the banquet.
Her hopes were raised by Henry’s changed attitude toward her when she was presented to her brother-in-law; Philip embraced her and those hopes soared. She wondered when she would have an opportunity to talk to him.
She was grateful that she still had some jewels out of pawn and she had managed to keep one black velvet dress in moderately good condition. When she was dressed in it and put on her jewels she believed she successfully hid her poverty.
Henry proudly presented his daughter Mary to the Archduke, and even his expression softened a little at the sight of the delightful creature. He could not help being proud of his children. The urge was strong in him to get more. Perhaps he could talk to Philip about a bride. Philip’s sister Margaret’s name had been mentioned before. Perhaps he could get the matter settled quickly for it would be an ideal match.
He was affable to Katharine, calling her his daughter, which all about him noticed and they wondered whether this was an indication that there was still a possibility of her marriage with the Prince of Wales or whether it was merely done for Philip’s benefit.
So the banquet began and conversation flowed with the utmost affability between Philip and his attendants and the King and the Prince of Wales and all those nobles who were fully aware of the King’s desire for friendship with the visitor.
The Princess Mary enchanted the company with her lute and clavichord as she had said she would; and she danced to the admiration of all. The King suggested that Katharine dance one of her Spanish dances and that one of her ladies should accompany her in the dance.
It was like those pleasant days of long ago for Katharine when she was treated according to her rank.
Mary had come to her after the dance and taking her hand led her to the dais at the end of the hall on which the royal party were seated. The King made no objection but included her in the smile he bestowed on his daughter.
Young Henry smiled at her, almost possessively and perhaps with real love. She was happier than she had been for a long time.
She sat beside Philip and her heart beat fast with hope. He was smiling at her in a rather vague way as though his thoughts were elsewhere.
“I was dismayed not to see my sister,” she said.
His voice was cold. “She was indisposed after such an ordeal. I was concerned for her health and insisted that she rest before making the journey.”
It sounded as though he cared very much for Juana, and Katharine warmed toward him.
“I shall look forward to seeing her. I doubt not she will join us soon.”
“It will be so, doubtless,” he said.
She thought: if I could speak to him in secret. If I could ask him to convey a message to my father . . . one which the King might not know of. Perhaps he could bring me some relief. If my father knew how short of money I am kept . . .
She would try. But how to speak to him alone? In the dance, perhaps?
“My lord Archduke,” she said quietly, “I should be greatly honored if you and I could dance together.”
He turned to her; his eyes were cold. “My lady, I am but a plain sailor. You would not have me dance with you!”
There was a brief silence. Katharine felt the blood rush into her face. It was an insult—and deliberately given.
The silence on the dais was brief. The Prince of Wales looked dismayed. He felt protective toward Katharine; on the other hand he was completely fascinated by his new friend. Katharine should not have asked him to dance; she should have waited for Philip to ask her. Henry preferred to forget the incident.
The King had been very much aware of it. It told him a good deal. Philip had escaped from Juana; he had treated Katharine as though he regarded her as of little importance.
That was revealing. Then he need not be too careful of her either and he was glad of that. He had been a little uneasy about what the sisters might discuss if they were together. He believed now that there would be no protest from Philip if he sent Katharine away. But perhaps he should allow her the briefest encounter with her sister.
On the following day the Princess Mary came to Katharine’s apartments. She was pouting slightly and Katharine wondered what had offended her, for she was inclined to be spoiled at the Court—like her brother and elder sister Margaret, she was fond of her own way. Now something had upset her and clearly she had come to tell Katharine about it.
Soon it came out. “I am to leave for Richmond at the end of the week.”
“Oh . . . but you love Richmond.”
“I love Richmond, but not when there is all this entertainment going on at Windsor. The Archduke will be here and there will be balls and banquets and all sorts of exciting things going on and I shall not be here to enjoy them.” She looked quickly at Katharine. “And,” she added, “nor will you.”