Chapter Twenty-Six

T he gleaming, black horse came to a grinding halt just to the right of the oak tree. It snorted and pawed the ground. Its coat held a sheen of sweat highlighting the dips and rises of its strong, muscular body.

The rider dropped his black, velvet hood from his head and grinned down. He was clean-shaven, his strong-featured face lined by weather and sun, and his blue eyes sparkled as though full of joy. "Greetings!" He beamed. "Are you not surprised to see me?" He laughed and flung his hand in the air in a flamboyant, curling wave.

Philip stared at the man he hadn't seen in the flesh for over a decade. A cascade of emotions rushed through him like boulders crashing down a mountain. Shock. Joy. Anger. What was Maximilian doing here?

"Your Majesty," Joanna said, bobbing her head. "A surprise, indeed. And your timing is impeccable."

"It is?" Maximilian raised his eyebrows.

"Yes." Philip cleared his throat. "Not a moment too soon."

Maximilian swung his leg over his horse's rump and landed on the ground as nimbly as a man half his age would. "Joanna. At last, I meet my new daughter, and Castile's new queen." He strode up to Joanna and wrapped her slight body in his wide arms, pulling her close and exuberantly kissing each of her cheeks. "What a joy to see you. I hope you'll forgive my rather covert appearance." He pulled back and relieved himself of the heavy cloak, dropping it to the ground with a flourish. "I'm attempting to travel incognito."

"It is truly a surprise. A wonderful surprise," Joanna said, beaming. "To see you here at Coudenberg Palace. Isn't it, Philip?"

Philip watched the greeting as though he were in a dream. What was the King of the Romans doing here? Maximilian had always had a firm dislike of Coudenberg. Never once had he visited after his departure from it, even when Philip had asked him for help.

Except this time, after his last letter, a true and heartfelt plea for advice, here he stood. His father.

"My son. You are looking well." Maximilian reached for Philip and drew him into the same wide, enthusiastic hug he'd given Joanna. He slapped him several times on the back.

Philip felt the affection from his father, the genuine pleasure he got from hugging him, and his anger at being deserted for so long, mostly slipping away.

"Your eyes are just like your mother's," Maximilian said, holding Philip at arm's length and studying him. "So like hers."

"Grandmother often told me that."

Maximilian smiled and released him. He looked at the basket of food. "Enough for three? It has been a long journey. I did not wish to show myself at the house—couldn't stand the fanfare—and went only to the stable yard to seek out a groom. He told me where you were."

"Please, help yourself." Joanna picked up another goblet and filled it with dark, red wine. "Be our guest."

Maximilian laughed. "How strange to be a guest when I used to live here."

"That was a long time ago." Philip tipped his chin. "You have no claim on Coudenberg now." Was that why his father had appeared? He wanted land? Territories?

Maximilian clasped Philip's shoulder and after taking a slug of wine, he said, "I do not wish to take Coudenberg from you, son. It makes me melancholy, but I will not bore you with those memories."

"Melancholy?" Joanna asked.

Maximilian nodded and glanced away, his eyes misting. He stared at the horizon.

Philip hated to see pain on his father's face and he knew exactly why it was there. He also understood now, more than ever, why Maximilian had stayed away. "Father, there are pheasant pies in here, your favorite—or at least they were."

"Ah, yes, I thank you." Maximilian took an offered pie. "Excellent." He smiled, the sadness lifting with what appeared to be well-practiced effort.

"Here, Father, sit. You have had a long journey." Philip pointed at his seat.

"No, no, son, I have sat for too long in the saddle. My legs will forget what they are for if I do not stand."

Joanna sat.

Philip hesitated then did the same. The horse ducked its head to graze in the shade.

"So…" Maximilian took a bite of pie, crumbs scattering. "Tell me, Joanna, how it feels to be Queen of the Crown of Castile."

"I am not there, with my people, so it's almost as if nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed." Philip frowned.

"I know my mother will not be there when we visit. That is a change."

"I am sorry for your loss," Maximilian said. "I hear your mother was a beautiful and pious woman with an indomitable spirit."

"That sums her up well," Joanna said. "I take comfort knowing that she is with her beloved John and my sister now, in heaven. In the arms of the Holy Father."

"It is indeed a comfort," Maximilian said, crossing himself.

"You received my letter," Philip said, unable to hold the question in any longer.

Maximilian nodded and continued to eat his pie.

"Is that why you came?" Philip asked. Could it be? Would Maximilian have made this long and unusual journey because of the situation Philip now found himself in with his wife's father?

"There is much to discuss," Maximilian said. "My son." He smiled.

"I will leave you to your discussion." Joanna stood. "And depart back to the house. It is getting too warm here."

"My love." Philip stood. "I will walk with you."

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "I am quite capable of walking that distance alone, and from your vantage point here, you will be able to see that I am still on two feet when I arrive. You stay, please. Talk to your father. It has been a long time since you were together."

Philip hesitated.

"I am more capable than you give me credit for." She laughed and kissed his cheek, then turned to Maximilian. "We will feast in your honor tonight."

"That will blow my discreet visit somewhat, but…" Maximilian gave an elaborate bow. "I could never refuse a queen, and a beautiful one at that."

"You flatter me so." Joanna smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. "I am glad to have you here. Truly. And I know my husband is too." She turned and walked away, her gown brushing the grass and the sun glinting off the golden threads in her headdress.

"She is quite the woman," Maximilian said, taking Joanna's seat. "I made a good match for you, am I right?"

"Yes." Philip poured them each more wine, then he too sat in the shade next to his father.

"Yes, but…?"

"I beg your pardon?" Philip said.

"I suppose there's a but ." Maximilian raised his thick eyebrows. "There always is."

"There is no ‘but' as long as I…" Philip thought of her hacking off poor Carolyn's hair. Of how only last week Joanna had insisted there be no female staff allowed in his bedchamber, not even for cleaning and fire duties. And how only minutes ago, she'd asked him if he'd been having an affair. "As long as her jealousy is kept under control. Then she is the perfect wife."

"Ah." Maximilian nodded. "And do you give her reason to be jealous?"

"No." Philip scowled. "I have been faithful. She just gets it into her head that I have not been."

"Then you mustn't give her reason to suspect."

Philip frowned.

"I mean, my son, go out of your way to ensure nothing even looks suspicious between you and another woman," Maximilian went on. "You clearly have an intelligent wife who can read people, including pretty girls who may have their sights set on you. Ensure you give her nothing to read with her clever eyes."

"So I cannot speak to another woman?"

"Not unnecessarily, no."

"But that…is…?"

"Preposterous? No, it is what a man must do, on occasion, for a quiet life and a happy wife."

Philip's attention was drawn again to Joanna, who was shrinking as she got closer to the house. "I do want her to be happy."

"I am glad to hear it. I am also glad to be here to meet her, and my grandchildren."

"Are you glad to see me?" Philip couldn't help the sharpness of his tone. "Or am I an extra?"

"My son." Maximilian reached across the seats and squeezed his forearm. "Of course I am glad to see you. You are not the extra. It is you with whom I have come to spend time."

Philip swallowed, not realizing how much he'd needed to hear those words.

"I received your letter," Maximilian said, his tone a little gruffer as he sat back. "King Ferdinand of Aragon is out of control."

"I agree. You know he is trying to say Joanna is of unfit mind in order to seize control."

"Yes, I had heard that, though she seems perfectly sane to me." From his pocket, he withdrew a coin. On it were Philip's and Joanna's faces with the inscription Philip and Joanna, King and Queen of Castile, Léon, and Archdukes of Austria and Burgundy. "I am not so sure I can say the same about you. What is this?"

Philip clenched his fists and his belly tightened. "I am the rightful king. They are the coins that should be in circulation…and clearly, they are, since I had them minted in Antwerp and Bruges."

"Do you not think it was a little petty to stoop as low as your enemy?"

"‘Enemy'?" Philip paused. "Yes, he is my enemy and no, I don't think it was low at all. The people of Asturias need to know who the rightful monarchs are. Myself and Joanna."

"Joanna, for sure."

Philip jumped up. "Do not question my right to that throne!"

"I am not, but many are." Maximilian paused. "Or should I say were ."

"What are you talking about?" Philip scowled down at Maximilian, who reached for another pie and bit into it.

After he'd swallowed, he said, "Am I right in saying Ferdinand lost his monarchical status in Castile after Queen Isabella's death?"

"Yes, you are correct."

"Although his wife's will permitted Ferdinand to govern in Joanna's absence or, if Joanna was unwilling to rule herself, until Joanna's heir reaches the age of twenty."

"Yes. Those are the details which I dispute. As Joanna's husband, I should be king if she is queen, which she is." Philip flicked his hand impatiently. "Go on. You said were . The people were questioning my right."

"The tide is turning." Maximilian nodded slowly.

"Please, do not talk in riddles." Irritation gnawed at Philip.

"I believe Ferdinand has sorely misjudged the mood of the people, for he is planning on remarrying."

"Remarrying? I had not heard this."

"Yes, Germaine de Foix." He studied Philip.

Philip racked his memories. "Oh! She is Louis's young niece. We met her at French court."

"Yes. Exactly, my son, so we can presume he has embarked on a pro-French policy after all of these years of animosity."

"More than animosity. It was outright war . If it weren't for my treaty and the future marriage of Charles to Claude, they still would be at war." Philip shook his head at this news. What a turnaround of Ferdinand's attitude to the French.

"You did a bold thing with Louis, intelligent and inventive too." Maximilian nodded. "And though it made you many allies, it made Ferdinand your enemy."

"He will not live forever. He is aging fast."

"His popularity is also dying fast," Maximilian said with a smiling huff. "The people of Castile and Aragon are incensed. They have lost fathers, brothers, and sons in the war with France and now Ferdinand is to be in bed with a French bride. Showing her off at court, dining out, visiting Cathedrals. Oh, no, they are not happy about what is coming."

"I am not surprised. They loved Queen Isabella, almost to goddess status."

"Indeed, and now her widower is rebounding with a French woman, a potential French heir on the horizon. There have been riots, death threats, considerable unrest."

Philip sat and gripped the arms of the chair. He stared at a blackbird pecking in the grass nearby. If Ferdinand was out of favor, this could be his moment to swoop in and take the crown with the support of the people. An act that would make Ferdinand look smaller, weaker, more pathetic than he would surely be able to cope with.

"So you see, Ferdinand's upcoming wedding has had the opposite effect to what he wanted," Maximilian said. "People are not drawn to him as king now—they are repelled. Joanna has never been more popular, more loved, or wanted at home. Her home."

"We should go sooner than planned. To Castile."

"Yes." Maximilian sipped his wine. "You really should."

"And I can claim my title as king. My rightful title."

"Yes." Maximilian clasped his shoulder. "You should do that too. It is yours, my son."

Philip felt a surge of energy rush through him. This was good news his father had delivered. Very good news. He jumped up. "We should not delay."

Maximilian laughed, a deep rumble of a sound that reminded Philip of his very young years. "I agree you should go soon, but please, let me enjoy being here for a few weeks. It would make me very happy."

"Of course you can stay at Coudenberg, for as long as you wish, but…?" Surely, the sooner they left, the better. And Philip had much to do. Letters to send in order to harness support from Castilian nobles, bishops, and prelates. Decisions to make, plans to plot.

"Son," Maximilian said firmly. "What I'm saying is I want to spend time with you ."

Philip sat again, this time with a bump. All thoughts of letters, plots, and plans disappearing. "You do?"

"Naturally. You are my son and I love you."

"You do?"

"Very much."

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Philip was warmed by his father's words, then Maximilian spoke again. "Joanna is an intelligent woman. I can see it in her eyes."

"She was well-educated, yes."

"It is more than that. If she is anything like her mother, she is canny, passionate, and determined."

"I dare say she is like her mother."

"And her mother was a successful queen…with Ferdinand at her side."

"What are you trying to say?" Philip asked.

" Una cosa medesima ."

Latin. "One and the same?"

"Yes, one and the same, the same crown." Maximilian pressed his lips together for a moment, then, "I know it goes against your Burgundian instinct, what you have always known, but you must both wear the crown as equals. It is the only way both your marriage and the governance of your country will be successful."

"But I will be king." Philip stabbed his finger on his chest. "And she my queen. I will rule with her at my side."

"No." Maximilian shook his head. "If you only ever take one bit of advice from me, my dearest son, then you must co-rule, side by side. Give Joanna a voice, let her use her mind, her clever mind. I am sure she will serve you and her country well."

"She has no understanding of politics. Politics is for men exclusively."

"I think you'll find she has a very good understanding of politics and will forge a very good political identity for herself if you let her."

"But why would I?"

"Philip." Maximilian sighed. "You have not married a milk maid, or a tanner's daughter. You have married a woman who has been raised by a queen. She has learned canon and civil law, genealogy and heraldry, grammar, history, languages, mathematics, and philosophy—if I was told correctly, that is."

Philip said nothing, thinking of the times his wife had indeed spoken knowledgeably on all of those subjects. "You were correctly informed."

"So you must let her put her mind to use. You must be equals in all aspects of your lives." He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "Trust me. I know it brings the most happiness, the most fulfillment, to be together as one."

Philip stared at his father's profile. What his father said was true, but it did go against his instincts to give Joanna a rein in the handling of politics. He'd only ever known men governing here in his homeland. Men making all the important decisions and policies.

"Please, tell me you will try," Maximilian said. "She might be feisty and sharp-tongued, but that means she's quick-thinking, likely with an ability to preempt, and like all women, sense another's mood and motive with sometimes scary speed and accuracy."

"It is true. She is all of those things."

"Then let us consider it a plan that you will co-rule with Joanna, Queen of Castile, and let us consider it a plan, also, that in a few weeks, you will go and claim your lands and your rightful title."

"To cheers and celebrations if all goes well."

"The people will be ecstatic to have their queen home," Maximilian said firmly, "and to see her with her capable, handsome husband, they will be ready to accept you as king and cast Ferdinand even further into the gutter."

Philip could see it now. The adoring crowds, the waves, and smiles, all for him and Joanna. Ferdinand forgotten. An outcast, now that he'd made the disastrous decision to take a French bride.