henever Ferdinand chose to do so, and should not make peace without its
ally, baited though the demand was with the hollow suggestion of
recovering for England the territories of Normandy and Guienne, Henry's
duplicity was brought into play. He dared not consent to such terms, but
he wanted the benevolent regards of Ferdinand's coalition: so his
ministers flattered the Spanish king, and vaguely promised "mounts and
marvels" in the way of warlike aid, as soon as the marriage treaty was
signed and sealed. Even Puebla wanted something more definite than this;
and the English commissioners (the Bishop of Exeter and Giles Daubeney),
"took a missal in their hands and swore in the most solemn way before the
crucifix that it is the will of the King of England first to conclude the
alliance and the marriage, and afterwards to make war upon the King of
France, according to the bidding of the Catholic kings." Nor was this all:
for when Puebla and his colleagues later in the day saw the King himself,
Henry smiled at and flattered the envoys, and flourishing his bonnet and
bowing low each time the names of Ferdinand and Isabel passed his lips,
confirmed the oath of his ministers, "which he said we must accept for
plain truth, unmingled with double dealing or falsehood."[1] Ferdinand's
ambassadors were fairly dazzled. They were taken to see the infant
bridegroom; and Puebla grew quite poetical in describing his bodily
perfections, both dressed and _in puribus naturalibus_, and the beauty and
magnificence of the child's mother were equally extolled. The object of
all Henry's amiability, and, indeed, of Puebla's dithyrambics also, was to
cajole Ferdinand into sending his baby daughter Katharine into England at
once on the marriage treaty alone. With such a hostage in his hands, Henry
knew that he might safely break his oath about going to war with France to
please the Spanish king.
But Ferdinand was not a man easy to cajole, and when hapless, simple
Sepulveda reached Spain with the draft treaty he found himself in the
presence of two very angry sovereigns indeed. Two hundred thousand crowns
dowry, indeed! One hundred was the most they would give, and that must be
in Spanish gold, or the King of England would be sure to cheat them over
the exchange; and they must have three years in which to pay the amount,
for which moreover no security should be given but their own signatures.
The cost of the bride's trousseau and jewels also must be d
|