When Fuensalida was seated, Henry said: “I know that you have come to see me on two matters of great importance and interest to me. They are also matters of great happiness: marriages. How much better it is for Kings to unite through such alliances than to quarrel together! What news do you bring me of Queen Juana?”

“There is no King to whom Ferdinand would rather see his daughter married than yourself.”

“Then why delay…why delay?”

“It is on account of the strangeness of the Queen of Castile.”

Henry frowned. “I have heard of this strangeness, but what does it mean? She has recently been brought to bed of a fine daughter. She has borne sons. I would ask nothing more of a wife than that.”

“It is said that the Queen of Castile is insane.”

“Insane! Bah! She is fertile. We in England would have no objection to a little insanity if a Queen were fertile, as I have already explained.”

“Then the negotiations should go forward.”

“And with speed,” cried the King. “You see me here…”

He did not finish, and Fuensalida spoke for him: “Your Grace is no longer in your first youth. A speedy marriage is a necessity for you that you might get sons before it is too late.”

Henry was astonished. No one had ever dared refer to the fact that it was possible he would not be long for this world. And here was this stranger calmly telling him so. He felt very angry, the more so because he knew the truth of the statement. Had they told Juana that he was an old man and that his eagerness for their marriage was not his regard for her but the immediate and desperate need to beget a son before the grave claimed him?

Surely this ambassador must be the most tactless man Ferdinand could possibly have sent him.

“And there is a matter of great importance to us both,” went on Fuensalida who, since he never considered the feelings of others, was never conscious of wounding them, “and that is the marriage of the Infanta and the Prince of Wales.”

Impudence! thought Henry. He dares to change the subject! Where are his manners? Or does he think that a Spanish grandee takes precedence over a King of England?

Henry did not show his anger when dealing with foreign diplomats. He said calmly: “I have a great regard for the daughter of the King of Aragon. I find her gracious, charming and beautiful. It has grieved me that she must live so long in such uncertain state.”

“Your Grace remembers that he promised that she should marry the Prince of Wales?”

“I do not forget it and I see no reason why this marriage should not take place, providing certain questions can be amicably settled between my friend the King of Aragon and myself.”

“It is precisely that such matters should be settled that I am here with Your Grace.”

“Is that so?”

Still Henry showed no sign of the fury he felt. It was not the marriage of Katharine and the Prince of Wales he was eager to discuss, but his own marriage with Juana.

“Why,” he went on, “I remember full well that these two were betrothed. I am not a man to break my word. I should tell you that the Prince of Wales has had many offers…many brilliant offers of marriage.”

“There could scarcely be a more brilliant marriage, Your Grace, than with a daughter of Spain.”

Insolent fellow! thought Henry. He would see that Ferdinand realized his folly in sending such a man to England. Henry greatly preferred little Dr. de Puebla—a man who lacked this arrogance and certainly realized that the best way to serve his master was not to antagonize those with whom that master wished to make new friendships.

“I am weary,” he said. “My doctors warned me. You will be received by my councillors, and you can lay the terms of the King of Aragon before them.” The King closed his eyes. Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida was dismissed.


* * *

THE COUNCIL were far from helpful. Fuensalida did not know that the King had already told them of his dislike for the new ambassador, and had hinted that no concessions should be made to him.

As for Fuensalida, he was afraid that certain members of this Council were not of sufficient nobility to be on equal terms with him, and he was disgusted that the King was not present that he might address himself to him.

The Bishop of Winchester, who with the Bishop of Ely and the Earl of Surrey formed part of the Council, showed no grace or finesse in dealing with this delicate matter of Katharine’s dowry. They wanted to know how the money was to be paid.

“As previously arranged,” said Fuensalida. “There will be sixty-five thousand crowns and the remainder in plate and jewellery.”

“You have presumably brought the plate and jewels with you?” one of the members of the Council enquired.

“You know full well that the Infanta brought her plate and jewels with her when she arrived in this country.”

“That,” said Surrey, “was in the year 1501; quite a long time ago.”

“You knew that this plate and these jewels were intended for her dowry?”

“How could that be,” asked Winchester, “when the Infanta has been wearing the jewels and using the plate?”

“And disposing of them if my information is correct,” added Surrey.

The Bishop of Ely added slyly: “On the marriage of a husband and wife, the wife’s property becomes that of the husband. Therefore it would seem that the Infanta’s jewels became the property of Prince Arthur and consequently the property of the King.”

“Does Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida then seek to pay the King the remainder of the Infanta’s dowry with the King’s own plate and jewels?” Ely wanted to know.

“This is monstrous!” cried Fuensalida, who had never learned to control his temper.

Winchester was delighted, for he knew that the best way of scoring over the Spaniard was to make him lose his temper.

He went on: “This is the King’s property, into which over a number of years the Infanta has been breaking, selling a piece here, and a piece there, so that much of that which should be in the King’s coffers is now in those of the Lombard Street merchants!”

“This is a matter for your shame!” shouted Fuensalida. “You have treated the Infanta as a beggar. You have dared behave so to a daughter of Spain.”

“Whose dowry was never paid in full,” put in Winchester.

“I shall not remain to hear more of such insolence!” cried Fuensalida; and he left the council chamber to the delight of the English.

In the House of Grimaldi

FRANCESCA DE CARCERES WAS DETERMINED ON ACTION. Something had to be done, and she guessed that the marriage negotiations of the Infanta and the Prince of Wales were as far as ever from reaching a satisfactory conclusion.

Until the Infanta was married, none of her maids of honor would be.

And thus, thought Francesca, the years will pass until we are all dry old spinsters whom no one would take in marriage even if we had big dowries.

Francesca was never one to wait for opportunity; she went out to seek it.

She had met Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida and recognized in him a nobleman such as Puebla could never be. Being suspicious of Puebla and believing that he worked for the King of England rather than for Ferdinand, she wished that he should be recalled to Spain; it seemed that he never would be, because Ferdinand for some strange reason trusted him. And in any case the old fellow was now so infirm that he would be of no use in Spain. It was characteristic of Ferdinand that he should not recall him. It was so much easier to keep the ailing old man in England, pay him no wages and let him work for Spain.

Francesca pinned her hopes on Fuensalida.

She decided therefore that she would see him in private. This was not an easy thing to do at Court because when he came he was not alone; and in any case what chance had a maid of honor of a private interview without calling a great deal of attention to herself to obtain it?

There was plenty of freedom now in Katharine’s entourage, so Francesca had planned that she would slip away one afternoon and call on the ambassador at his lodgings, which she knew to be in the house of the banker, Francesco Grimaldi.

She wrapped herself in a cloak, the hood of which did much to conceal her face, and set out. When she reached the banker’s house she was taken into a small room and the servant who had brought her in went away to discover whether the Spanish ambassador was in his apartment.

While Francesca waited she examined the rich hangings and the fine furniture in this small room. She had been struck by the grandeur of the house as soon as she entered it. Perhaps this appreciation was the more forceful because she thought of the poverty in which she and the Infanta’s maids of honor had lived for the last few years.

Banking must be a profitable business, she reflected; and it was brought home to her that people such as bankers must live in more affluent circumstances than many a Prince or Princess.

The door was opened and a rather plump man stood in the doorway. Francesca noticed at once that his jacket was made of rich velvet and that his stomacher was most elegantly embroidered. His hanging sleeves were somewhat exaggeratedly long and there were jewels at his throat and on his fingers. He gave an impression of elegance and wealth and his corpulence and air of general well-being indicated a man who lived most comfortably. His eyes were warm brown and very friendly.

When he bowed low over Francesca’s hand on which his lips lingered slightly longer than Court etiquette would have considered necessary, she discovered that she was not displeased.

“I am happy to see you in my house,” he said. “But alas, Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida is not here at this time. If there is anything I could do to help you, depend upon it I should be greatly honored.”

“That is very kind of you,” Francesca replied, and she told him who she was.

“This is a happy day for my house,” answered the banker, “when one of the Infanta’s ladies call. And that she should surely be the most beautiful adds to my pleasure.”

“You are very gracious. Will you be so kind as to tell Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida that I called? I should have told him I was coming.”

“Pray do not leave so soon. I cannot say when he will return, but it is possible that he may do so within the hour. If in my humble way I could entertain you during that time, I should be most happy.”

Francesca said: “Perhaps I could linger for a little while.” And she was gratified to see the look of bemused pleasure in the face of the banker.

“Allow me to offer you refreshment,” he said.

Francesca hesitated. This was most unconventional, but she was known to be the most adventurous of the Infanta’s maids of honor and she thought how she would enliven them all when she returned by telling them of her adventures at the home of the Genoese banker; so she succumbed to temptation and sat down; whereupon Grimaldi summoned a servant and gave his orders.

Half an hour later Francesca was still in the banker’s company; she was amusing him with stories of Court life, and he was amusing her equally with stories of his own world. When she expressed her admiration for his beautiful furniture he insisted on showing her some of his more elaborate pieces, which resulted in a tour of this very fine house of which he was clearly—and justly—proud.

Fuensalida had not returned when Francesca decided that she really must leave; Grimaldi wished to escort her back, but she refused to allow this.

“We should be seen,” she said. “And I should doubtless be severely reprimanded.”

“What a mischievous young lady you are!” murmured the banker rapturously.

“One must bestir oneself in some ways,” retorted Francesca. “I do admit the others are somewhat prim.”

“I shall never cease to bless the day you came to see Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida, and I feel grateful to him for not returning, thus allowing me to enjoy your company and have it all to myself.”

“Are bankers always so gallant?” asked Francesca almost archly.

“Even bankers cannot fail to be in the presence of such overwhelming beauty,” he told her.

It was all very pleasant and Francesca had enjoyed the encounter; and when he said goodbye his lips lingered even longer on her hand. We are so unused to such attentions, she told herself; and even when they do not come from the nobility they are not without their attractions.