Katharine looked at her in amazement.
“Because,” went on Mary, “you are to come with me. We are to leave together . . . for Richmond.”
“But who has said this?”
“It is my father’s wish that we should go.”
“But . . . my sister will be coming . . .”
“I know. But we are to go. Perhaps your sister will come to Richmond to see you.”
“She will come here . . . and I shall not be here to see her. Oh, it is so unfair. Why is everything done to hurt me?”
Mary came to Katharine and put her arm round her.
“I don’t want to go to Richmond either,” she said.
Katharine looked at the beautiful little pouting face. No, Mary did not want to miss the balls and banquets. But I shall not see my sister, thought Katharine.
Then a horrible suspicion came to her that it had been planned because the King did not wish her to see her sister. He would know how bitterly she would complain. Had she not on many occasions brought her sorry condition to his ears? Not that he had listened.
Oh, life was cruel. It could not be that now she was going to be denied a meeting with Juana.
A few days passed in the most lavish revelry and still Juana did not come. Philip’s servants had certainly respected his wishes that Juana’s journey to join him should be a very slow one. She did not arrive until the day before Katharine and Mary were to leave for Richmond.
Fortune is a little on my side at last, thought Katharine. At least I shall see her.
With great joy she greeted her sister.
They looked at each other for some time in astonishment. They had both changed a good deal since they had last met. Katharine noticed the wildness in Juana’s eyes. She had seen it before but now it was more marked. Her sister had aged considerably. Of course she would change; she had been a young girl when she had left home to marry Philip.
Juana saw a new Katharine too. Was this Catalina, the rather quiet little sister who had always been so terrified of the future which would take her away from her mother’s side? Poor sad little widow! She really did look as though she were in mourning.
“We must be together . . . we must talk,” said Katharine. “There is so much I have to say to you. You will be going to Castile.”
“Yes,” said Juana. “We are going to claim the crown which is now mine.”
“You are Queen of Castile, Juana, as our mother was. It is hard to imagine anyone in her place.”
“Our father has replaced her in his bed,” said Juana with a laugh. “They say his new wife is young and beautiful and he is rather a doting husband.”
Katharine shivered.
“I wish him joy of her,” cried Juana. “I have the crown. He cannot take that.”
“Juana, when you see our father I want you to speak to him for me.”
“What think you of Philip?” said Juana. “Did you ever see a man so handsome?”
“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.