Chapter Two

1496

Coudenberg Palace

Flanders

"T homas, I refuse to let you beat me," Philip said with a frown as he plucked another arrow from his quiver.

"So cheat." Thomas laughed, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. "If you can figure out a way how to."

Philip didn't answer his chancellor and friend. Instead, he lined up the tip of the arrow with the highest point on the target, pulled back the bowstring, let out a long, slow, steadying breath, and fired.

The arrow flew through the air, the blue kingfisher feather at its tail glinting in the sunlight. And then it hit, right in the middle of the red target.

"Yes!" Philip punched the air. "That's how you do it."

"Well done. You have excellent aim." Thomas squeezed his shoulder. "And even more so when you think you might lose." He chuckled.

"I am not in the habit of losing."

"A trait you have surely gotten from your father."

"My mother too." He glanced out at the soft, low hills that surrounded Coudenberg Palace. Trees dotted the landscape in copses and as single splashes of green. Philip hoped the fine weather would hold and summer would stretch on. He didn't enjoy the winter. Long, dark nights and so many pickles, his guts started to ache.

"Another round?" Thomas asked.

"Sure. If you don't mind losing again." Philip gestured to a courtier who was standing as straight as a pike and holding a brass tray full of wine goblets.

The courtier stepped up quickly and Philip took a drink.

"Has my sister returned from her ride?" Philip asked the man.

"I believe so, Your Grace."

"Good." Philip sipped his dark wine. He had received a scroll that morning by envoy, from Germany, and it was addressed to them both with instructions to open it together.

Why his father liked to befuddle him this way, Philip had no idea. It wasn't as if they were close. Maximilian had left Philip to rule the Low Countries and surrounding territories when he'd been fifteen years old and now, at eighteen, Philip knew full well he was doing a good job and was beloved by the people. The Estates General and government met regularly and peace and economic development were their main focus—with Philip's guidance, of course.

Meaning Philip had plenty of time for archery, hunting, tennis, and stick fighting. Life was meant to be lived, was it not?

"Could you tell my sister to join me in the Aula Magna," he directed at the courtier.

"Yes, Your Grace."

He finished his wine and set it back on the tray. "I will be there shortly."

The courtier dipped his head politely then stepped aside to speak to another uniformed member of palace staff.

"You didn't open the scroll from your father yet?" Thomas asked, walking back toward him with a quiver of arrows plucked from the target.

"No, the King of the Romans asked me not to."

"And you did as you were told?" Thomas laughed.

"It seemed respectful, all things considered."

"I commend you, as will God." Thomas paused. "What do you think the scroll contains?"

"Details about strengthening his borders and increasing his power, no doubt."

"You know him well."

For a moment, Philip was quiet. He would have liked to have known his father better. Perhaps he would, in adulthood. But it was hard to predict how with Maximilian's vast territories and ever-increasing duties now that Philip's grandfather had died.

"I shall go first," Philip said, taking an arrow from Thomas. "And the breeze has picked up. Let us see who has prowess of the bow and arrow now."

They fired several arrows, each an excellent shot and hitting the target. Then, when the sun went behind a cloud, Philip's stomach grumbled and his impatience grew to know what was in the scroll from Maximilian. "Come, we will return to the palace."

Thomas nodded and handed his bow to a courtier. "Would you like me to accompany you or do you wish for a private consultation with your sister?"

"I think private might be for the best." Philip knew how his sister hated to have to hide her feelings. She'd always been that way. Wanting to appear dignified and graceful took its toll on occasion and he cherished the fact that he was one of the few people on God's good Earth with whom she could truly relax. "I will fill you in on the details later."

"Very good, Your Grace."

Philip squeezed Thomas's shoulder. "And I thank you, Thomas, as always, for your friendship and advice."

"It's is my privilege." He pressed his hand over his heart.

When Philip arrived back at the palace, he found his sister, Margaret, waiting for him. The scroll was on the long banqueting table that spanned the length of the vast ornate Aula Magna. Sun shone in from the huge, westerly windows, creating large, golden rectangles on the stone floor. The fires were lit, crackling away in their huge inglenooks, despite the warm day.

"It is from Father," Margaret said, pointing at the red, wax seal on the scroll.

"You are very perceptive." Philip grinned and kissed her cheek.

"I try to be." She picked up the scroll. "I am surprised you waited for me before opening it."

"It came with instructions for us to open it together."

"You don't always follow instructions, Philip." She laughed.

"I do when it's my father instructing." He reached for a slice of pork pie and took a bite.

"Shall I do the honors?"

He nodded.

As her elegant fingers cracked the seal then unraveled the tightly coiled paper, Philip had a strange sense of calm. He suddenly knew what the letter held. It came to him as sure as he knew he loved his lands and his people.

It would be concerning his and Margaret's betrothals.

"It is dated two weeks previously." Margaret held the scroll aloft and several curls of red wax fell to the floor.

Philip stood beside her and they read together in silence.

Archduke Philip and Archduchess Margaret, my beloved children, I pray this letter finds you in good health and prosperous.

I will get straight to the matter at hand and inform you that I have decided upon your marriages. It has taken some time to come to the arrangements, but I trust you will find them pleasing for our kingdom and the House of Habsburg.

Philip, you will wed Princess Joanna of Castile, daughter of King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile.

Margaret, you will wed Prince John of Castile, son of King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile.

The Spanish kingdoms are on the rise and share our abhorrence of King Charles of France's reign. Your unions with the Trastámara family will strengthen our borders and bring us greater powers. And it is these powers, ultimately, that will defeat the Turks and protect Christendom. It is a great service to God that you wed to my choosing.

The proxy wedding will take place on the last day of June. After this, Princess Joanna will travel to Flanders, and upon her safe arrival, Margaret will travel to Castile.

It is my hope to attend both weddings, but I cannot make promises, as I am inundated with matters that demand my constant attention.

Be well and safe, my children.

Your father, Maximilian of Austria, King of the Romans

"It is decided, then," Philip said, taking a step back and staring out of the window at the blue sky. A single, white cloud, shaped like a dog, slid from left to right. "Our spouses have been agreed upon once and for all."

"I wonder what they are like." Margaret poured wine into two goblets and sat at the bench. She took a deep slug.

"He will not come to the weddings," Philip said, also picking up a drink.

"He might. He hasn't promised, but he might come. Here at least, to Coudenberg. It is not such a journey from Germany as Castile."

"He won't. He didn't come to my inauguration, if you remember." Philip shrugged then sipped his wine.

Margaret said nothing. She'd known their father's absence had hurt Philip.

"And we are to marry a brother and sister," Philip went on. "I hadn't even considered that a possibility."

"You are lucky. I wish I were to stay here."

"Why?" Philip asked.

"This is home. Spain is a strange land with strange ways and they do not speak my language." She pulled a face. "I will be an outsider."

"You will be queen one day. That is not being an outsider."

Margaret was quiet for a moment. "I will pray that by then, I have learned their ways and their tongue."

"I know you will dazzle them, dear sister." He stepped up to her and squeezed her hand. "But I will miss you every day."

"As I you."

"Perhaps you could stay a while, after Joanna arrives. There is no need to rush if all is well and the fleet don't mind waiting at port. Joanna can teach you a few Spanish words and tell you a little about her brother so your journey isn't full of worries about his disposition."

"I'm not worried about his disposition." Margaret paused. "Or at least I wasn't until you put the thought into my mind that he might be unpleasant of nature."

Philip laughed. "I am sorry, I did not mean to. I, too, wonder what my wife will be like."

"Just as Father and Mother must have thought the same before they met," Margaret said. "They had a proxy marriage before Father's long journey to Ghent."

"And that marriage turned out pretty well." Philip didn't dwell on thoughts of his parents meeting. Instead, he looked to his own future. His father was right. Marriage into the Trastámara family would be advantageous. It would give the Habsburgs more power in European court, a court that was progressive and wealthy and good to have on one's side.

"I think I will go for a walk," Margaret said, standing. "Around the rose gardens."

"Would you like me to accompany you?" He set down his drink.

"I thank you, dear, kind brother, but no. I wish to be in my own thoughts."

"I understand. It is big news."

She kissed his cheek and smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Do not be sad," he said softly. "Be optimistic and have faith in God."

"I am grateful that my faith is strong." She turned and left the room, her soft footsteps fading as she went through the large doorway.

Philip pushed his hand through his hair. It instantly flopped back around his face.

Joanna of Castile.

He knew nothing of her, yet she was to become the woman he knew most about. She was to become the mother of his children, his heirs. She would be the companion at his side through good and bad and as age crept up with its gray hairs and sagging skin.

"Your Grace."

Philip's attention was caught by Thomas.

"Come in," Philip said, waving his arm. "I have news."

"And is it as you expected?" Thomas asked, striding alongside the table, the short sword at his belt shifting with each step.

"It is news of my sister's and my intended." Philip helped himself to more wine, then passed the jug to Philip.

"And…?" Thomas raised his eyebrows and took the jug.

"And as you would expect from an astute man such as my father, the marriages are strategic and well thought through."

"You keep me in suspense." Thomas studied Philip, jug aloft.

"For that, I apologize. I just have an inkling that my betrothed, Joanna of Castile, may cause me some problems with Charles."

"The King of France?"

"The very same." Philip sat and crossed his legs, bobbing his foot so the toe of his boot stabbed the air. "As you know, my father hates Charles with a passion, yet I—"

"Have formed a tenuous friendship with him."

"It suits me. Keeping an enemy close means I can predict his actions and so far, they have been benevolent—to us, at least."

"You are a very wise ruler." Thomas inclined his head.

Philip huffed. Sometimes he felt like he and Charles had a friendship akin to a lion and a lamb, he being the lamb, because France had great armies and a far reach. But Philip intended to change that. He would, one day, be the one with the large army and the highest influence. "You see, Thomas," he said, thinking aloud, "Joanna's father, King Ferdinand, has no good words to say about King Charles. He hates him and his ambitions for Naples and Grenada."

"And King Ferdinand will soon be your father in the name of marital law, with whom you should align." Thomas poured a drink and sipped. "It is definitely a conflict. Charles will not be pleased about the marriage, and neither will King Ferdinand when he discovers your friendship with Charles."

"A conflict I must navigate." Philip rubbed his clean-shaven chin. "Though I don't doubt that I will be able to do so with charm and flattery."

Thomas chuckled. "Traits you have in bucketfuls."

"You are generous with your flattery." Philip smiled. Yes. Marrying into Spain would be advantageous. He could see that. He was surprised at himself for not predicting it as his father's choice. As long as he could keep everyone's interests aligned with his, and Ferdinand and Charles appeased, there would be no great problem. Hopefully.

"Joanna is not heir to the Spanish throne, is she?" Thomas asked.

"No, had she been the sole child, like my mother, she would have been an even better match for me, but…"

"But what?"

"My sister, Margaret, will be Queen of Asturias, the combined territories, when she marries Joanna's older brother, John, and he inherits."

"Ah, so you will always have a sympathetic ear in the Spanish kingdom." Thomas nodded, the cogs of his mind clearly turning. "When John is king and your sister his queen."

"Exactly."

"It is a good match all around," Thomas said, sitting opposite Philip. "Our borders will be strengthened, no matter what Charles's reaction proves to be."

"And the Habsburg bloodline will move south, enriching our family's influence for years to come."

"Indeed." Thomas chinked his goblet to Philip's. "Let us send prayers that Joanna of Castile has a safe journey here and is of sound mind and pretty face."

Philip drank deeply. It was too much to hope that he'd be physically attracted to a woman he was marrying to gain power and influence…wasn't it?