Chapter Twenty-Eight

"B ut, Philip, why must we journey by ship? It makes no sense. Certainly not this time of year."

"It makes perfect sense. It is much quicker."

"I am not convinced of that, and besides, the Bay of Biscay is a watery hell. You will see. You will be so sick, to the very base of your stomach, that you'll wish you were dead."

"You are being dramatic." Philip tucked in his linen shirt then fastened the leather belt on his breeches. "Now come on. We have discussed this before. It is time to leave. The carriage awaits."

"I should say goodbye to the children one more time."

"No." His tone was firm. "We have done that already and there were enough tears. I won't go through it again or put them through it again."

She glanced down at her gloved hands. It was so hard to leave her babies behind. They were her heartbeat, the air she breathed.

"And besides," Philip said, picking up her Bible and passing it to her, "we are soon going to see young Ferdinand. I am so very excited to meet my second son for the first time."

"He will not know us."

"All the more reason for us to go to Spain."

"There are many reasons." She stood and took the Bible, studying her husband. "Not least because my people want me there."

"Which is why we must get there swiftly, before your father meddles any more with your rightful lands."

Joanna sighed. "I will agree to traveling on water on one condition."

"Anything, my love."

"Other than Beatriz, there will be no other females on the ship."

His brow creased into several lines. "I do not understand."

"Really?" She stared into his eyes, eyes she knew so well, eyes that were the window to his soul. A soul she loved with every shred of hers.

"Really, I do not understand."

"Dear husband of mine, when I am bedridden with sea vomiting and if you are not, I do not want the added misery of other women planning illicit relations with you."

"But? Joanna…" He took her hand. "That won't be—"

"That is the only way you will get me to walk up that gangplank. No other women on board."

He rubbed his chin. "Your mind works in mysterious ways, Joanna, but yes, if that is what you wish, you and Beatriz will be the only women."

"It is what I wish." She smiled and kissed his cheek. It was warm and soft, not a stray bit of bristle. "Come, let's go, or we'll be late."

*

"Oh, dear Lord, have mercy." Joanna gasped as she was rolled to the left and then the right. It was impossible to stay still on the roiling bed.

"The sky has turned as black as night." Philip looked out of the porthole of their cabin. "A storm as malevolent as the devil himself has laid itself in our path."

"And we have only been sailing a day. We're not even near the worst of the seas." She held her churning stomach and closed her eyes. This was exactly as she'd feared, only worse.

"My love." He staggered back to the bed, sat, and clutched her hand. "What can I do to help you?"

"There is nothing you can do." She squeezed her eyes closed. The waves were whipping against the side of the boat, spitefully tossing it this way and that.

"But I hate to see you like this. It pains me."

"I told you the sea made me sick."

He kissed her hand. "I will tell the captain to make haste to land. I cannot let you suffer this way."

She nodded feebly and braced as the ship lurched upward as though about to take to the sky.

"I will give my instruction immediately. Stay here."

"I cannot go anywhere."

He left the cabin and Joanna grabbed a pillow, pressing it over her face.

The hull creaked as though the strain of the storm were testing its strength. A thud of water hit the porthole and a crash of thunder rang through her ears.

Fear crept up her spine and mixed with her gripping nausea. What if the boat couldn't survive the storm? What if her timbers were snapped? What if the sea won this contest?

The ship lurched again, dipping its aft this time.

Another creak and a bang as a trunk skittered along the floor and hit a wall.

She sat, pressing her lips together. Lightning filled the cabin, white-hot and dazzling.

"Philip," she gasped, placing her feet on the decked floor and standing.

She had to grip the paneled wall to move at all, but after a few moments made it to the door. The breath was pushed from her as the ship tipped to the portside and she slammed up against the wood.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Philip.

His face was wet with sea spray and his hair flattened to his head. His tunic was dripping and his cheeks flushed.

"What is it?" she asked, seeing the fear in his eyes.

"Come quickly. This way." He grabbed her hand.

"But why…" He dragged her along the corridor, then slipped his arm around her waist to help her up several steps to the outdoor deck.

"What are we doing? Surely, we should stay below."

"No." He cupped her face and dipped his close. "We have to get off the ship."

"What? That's crazy."

"The captain says there is water leaking in on the starboard side, and the timbers have given way, weakened—I don't know. But I can't have you in such danger. This leaking vessel will go down."

"Oh, dear Lord, have mercy." Her fear turned to panic. The westerly wind whipped her hair against her cheeks and she could taste the salt in the air. "Philip, what can we do? Where is Beatriz?"

"My men are getting a raft ready and I have sent Belmonte for Beatriz."

"A raft?" She looked out at the tossing, violent ocean, the waves colliding and slapping together sending great plumes of spray in to the dark sky. "How can a raft survive this storm? We will all surely perish."

"That is true." A deep, stern voice. "You will have no chance on a raft."

"Captain?" Joanna turned to see the captain. His hat was pulled low and rain sliced off his broad shoulders. "Please, tell me, are we all to die?"

"No, Your Majesty. Land is not far away, less than half a mile. There will be no need to use the raft. The ship can get there, I am sure of it."

"Are you?" Philip demanded, holding Joanna tighter as the ship pitched once more. "I need your word that the ship is safe for my wife."

"You have my word," the captain said, wincing as a streak of lightning forked overhead. "I can get the ship to…" His words were cut off by yet more drumming thunder claps.

"Where can you get us to?" Joanna shouted. "France?"

"No. I can get you to England."

*

Joanna stepped onto the pier at Falmouth, England on shaky legs. Her knees were weak, much like the ship's timbers, and her muscles tired from staggering around.

"We must let the King of England know that we are on his land," Joanna said. "We are monarchs, after all."

"Yes. I agree," Philip said. "Though the people here seem friendly."

"Indeed." Joanna smiled at the curious faces around her. Weatherworn fishermen and their wives. Small children peeking around skirts and older people in chairs stitching colorful nets. The village was quaint with brightly painted houses and slate roofs. A high, stone wall protected it from the harbor. A clock tower showed the time and behind it, green and pleasant hills led up to a now-blue sky.

"Thomas," Philip said, turning. "Send Pedro de Anchemont to let King Henry know we are here."

"Perhaps I can see my sister." Joanna clasped her hands beneath her chin. "Little Catherine. She is all alone here since her husband, Arthur, died."

"I will do everything in my power to ensure you see her." Philip turned again to Thomas. "Please, find out where she is."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Thomas turned.

"Now, if we can figure out how to communicate, we will find somewhere on dry land to rest." Philip surveyed the pier. "Ah, there. That gentleman looks like a dignitary. Perhaps he will speak a familiar language."

*

A few hours later, Joanna and Philip were feasting on smoked fish, bread, pastries, and ale. A juggler was performing, throwing numerous batons in the air and catching them with great skill. A sackbut played a jingling melody in the corner.

"It is so wonderful to be off the boat," Joanna said, smiling. "And this small dwelling is so charming, even if the food is rather salty."

"My anxieties are certainly eased now you have color on your cheeks." Philip took a swig of ale. "And these people are clearly impressed to have a king and queen pay them a visit."

Joanna had been used to her husband referring to himself as "king" as opposed to "consort." And it seemed he believed it now, he'd said it so often. And with Maximilian reaffirming the belief, it was set in stone…as far as Philip was concerned.

The music stopped. Conversation quieted. All heads turned to the door.

Philip instinctively put his hand on the dagger attached to his belt. Thomas did the same with his own dagger, as did the other guards.

"Greetings!" a deep voice bellowed. "In the name of King Henry VII of England, a warm welcome is extended to our esteemed guests."

Philip stood, his chin tipped and his chest puffed up. "I thank you."

From the crowd, a tall man with a wispy, gray beard and a flattened hat emerged. His attention fell on Philip and he beamed. "Ah, Your Majesties, what a pleasure it is to have you both in England." He bowed low. "The king is most anxious to make your acquaintance at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, he has asked me, and these good lords and noblemen, to ensure you have everything you need and are properly entertained."

Joanna's heart filled with warmth. What a welcome, indeed. The English people were most congenial.

"As you can see." Philip held out his hands. "We are being looked after most wonderfully. And I thank you and the king for such an extension of hospitality. We, too, are keen to make his acquaintance."

"And my sister Catherine," Joanna said. "I should very much like to see her."

The earl hesitated for a moment, then said, "I am sure that will be possible."

*

Several days later, Joanna stood at the entrance to Windsor Castle with such an air of anticipation, she couldn't stop fidgeting with her black, embroidered headdress, her heavy necklace and her long, scarlet sleeves. But it wasn't the King of England she was excited to see, it was her dear little sister. Not so little now, but all grown up. Joanna knew instinctively that she wouldn't have changed much, not inside. She'd still be the sweet, inquisitive little soul she'd always loved.

Behind her stood Beatriz and Belmonte and the Earl of Arundel. The earl had urged her to arrive at the castle in secret. Philip had already been with the king for a few days, making his acquaintance, hunting, feasting, and talking politics. Joanna had wanted to arrive sooner, but Philip had been keen to make sure all was safe for her.

But now the time had come.

They walked across the cobbled courtyard to the New Tower. The earl nodded to two courtiers, who opened a vast, oak door with iron hinges.

And then, through the shadows, Joanna saw first Philip and then King Henry.

A hat that looked much like a beret sat atop the old king's head and it held a large ruby set in decorative gold. His fair hair was wispy and his face long, cheeks sunken. His robes were heavy, covering what appeared to be a slight frame. Certainly, he appeared small standing next to her tall husband.

The king's eyes sparkled and his mouth stretched into a smile showing darkened teeth. "Joanna, Queen of Castile, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you." He stepped forward, kissed each of her cheeks, and then embraced her in a firm hug.

"It is a pleasure," she managed.

"And you are every bit as beautiful as your husband told me."

"I thank you. And I thank you for such wonderful hospitality."

"The delight is all mine. And to have your husband's company has been an exceptional treat. Most agreeable and joyful. He is a man with many great ideas and plans for the future. Our countries are indeed special allies."

She smiled at Philip. "Is my sister here?"

"Yes, my love. Up these very steps."

Her heart picked up and she clasped her hands together. "Please, do not think me rude if I go to her. My arms ache to hold her. My heart beats faster at the thought of seeing her dear, sweet face."

The king laughed. "I understand. It has been many years since you have seen her."

"It has, and I am thankful to you and the good Lord for keeping her out of harm's way all of this time." She gathered up her hem. "Up the stairs, you said?"

"Yes, the last door." The king gestured flamboyantly. "Go. Go. And I will look forward to speaking with you later. Perhaps at dinner, if you would join your husband and me? Cook is preparing swan."

"I would like that very much." She didn't wait around a moment longer. She practically ran up the stairs, Beatriz hot on her heels.

When they reached the corridor Beatriz said, "Do you think she has changed much?"

"Taller and wiser. She has been through a lot since the death of her young husband, Arthur."

Beatriz said nothing. They rushed past richly decorated tapestries and arrived at the door. For a moment, Joanna hesitated, then she pulled in a deep breath and opened it.

Standing in milky winter light drifting in from a lead-paned window was Catherine of Aragon.

Her pretty face was framed with a pale-brown headdress dotted with pearls, and a matching gown was ruched at the shoulders, gathered at the waist and frilly around the white cuffs, which were also studded with pearls.

"My baby sister." Joanna rushed forward, arms spread. She scooped Catherine into her arms and held her close. Her frame was stronger yet still slight and she smelled of roses. "Oh, how I have longed for this moment but didn't believe it would happen." She pulled back, tears dampening her cheeks.

Catherine's complexion was delicate, her eyes glistening with emotion, and she swallowed tightly. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, dearest, beloved sister."

"He certainly does. We were nearly lost at sea, and now…now I am in the King of England's court with you." Joanna laughed, a sudden, jubilant burst of emotion. "How wonderful. I hope we can spend many days together."

Catherine took her hand and smiled. Her eyes were also tear-filled. "That is what I hope too. There is much to tell you." Her attention strayed over Joanna's shoulder. Her eyes widened. "Beatriz! Is that you?"

"My dear child." Beatriz stepped up and gathered Catherine into her arms. "Oh, how grown you are. How very beautiful you are."