Robert Curson. The stratagem once more took effect. Curson was received into the confidence of Suffolk and his party, and as fast as he wormed out the names of their accomplices in England he sent them off to Henry. In consequence of these treacherous revelations, in May,1502, Henry arrested William de la Pole, another brother of Suffolk; Lord Courtenay, who married Catherine Wydville, a sister of Henry's late queen; Sir William Wyndham, and some others of less note.
Against the Lord Courtenay and William de la Pole nothing could, however, be proved, beyond their relationship and friendly intercourse with Suffolk, and their connection with the house of York, yet De la Pole was retained in custody for a considerable time; and the Lord Courtenay was consigned to the Tower, where he remained during the king's reign. Tyrrel and Wyndham were condemned and executed; but, strangely enough, not on a charge of any present conspiracy, which Henry politically ignored, but on that of aiding the first escape of Suffolk in 1499, nearly three years ago. Tyrrel had, as we have seen, previously confessed his concern in the murder of the two princes in the Tower with impunity, and was now dispatched, not for his real crime, but on a charge vague and frivolous. All this dirty work being done, and those gentlemen and others put to death on his evidence, whatever it was, Curson returned to England, and into the royal favour, with shameless impudence, equally disgraceful to himself and his employer, and to the lively indignation of the people. As for the 1499 of Suffolk, he found it necessary to retire from the Court of his aunt, and to seek a wandering security wherever he could in the Netherlands, Germany, or France. Wherever he went, the eyes of Henry followed him; and in 1506 an event occurred, which promised Henry the chance of not only getting him into his hands, but of securing a variety of other advantages.
The tempestuous weather of January, 1506, which brought to others the disastrous news of vessels wrecked and lives lost, brought to Henry VII. tidings of a most exciting and elating kind. It was no other than that amongst the foreign vessels driven into the port of Weymouth, were some containing the Archduke Philip of Flanders and his wife Juana, the elder sister of Catherine of Arragon, his daughter-in-law, and daughter of his friend and ally Ferdinand of Spain. Henry was delighted to find these distinguished allies and near connections within his realm; but his delight arose, not from the same source as the really generous and hospitable might suppose, not from the opportunity thus afforded him of showing his friends the kindness and the welcome of a great king, but from the ogre's exultation that he had them in his power, and could suck their very life's blood. In other words, he could coin them into a mint of money, which was the blood of life to Henry Tudor.
The Archduke Philip knew his man; and at their meeting near Calais, in 1500, though he attempted to hold Henry's stirrup, and heaped upon him the titles of his father and protector, he took good care to keep out of his clutches; nothing would induce him to enter the city. But now circumstances were greatly changed; and the archduke and his wife Juana would be a much more valuable prize. The mother of Juana, the Queen Isabella of Spain, was dead, and Juana was, in her own right, Queen of Castille, and Philip, by hers, king. There was a number of things, any one of which Henry would have been only too happy to extort from Philip; and we shall soon see that he forgot none of them. The matter did not take the calculating monarch at all by surprise. He had been watching the precious pair of royalties from the moment they contemplated sailing for Spain to take possession of their rights. His ships had watched them down the Channel, and, from the state of the weather, the crafty king had even anticipated that they might be driven into one of his ports, and had stationed guards along the coast with full instructions how to act should they chance to land. Fortune seemed determined to co-operate with the selfish king. When they had been tossed about for a fortnight—from the 10th to the 26th of January—the unlucky couple were compelled to make Weymouth, their provisions being exhausted. The king and queen were so sick of the sea that they could not resist the temptation to go quietly for a little while on shore. In vain their prudent council warned them against the rash experiment: they stepped on land; and instantly Sir Thomas Tronchard and Sir John Cary, attended by a body of soldiers, marched up to their hotel, and with much politeness welcomed their majesties to England, and invited them to accept the hospitality of their houses. Philip would fain excuse himself; but the gentlemen, well instructed, intimated to them that their sovereign was already apprised of the honour done to his kingdom by their presence, and could not allow them to depart without first paying his respects to them. Philip must have heartily wished himself once more at the mercy of the sea rather than that of his old ally. But it was too late, and he was obliged to put a fair face on it.
Presently the Earl of Arundel arrived in great state at the head of 300 horse, and, for more effect, making his approach by torch-light. He bore the king's welcome and congratulations, and announced that Henry was intending in all haste to visit them himself. Philip, who foresaw a long delay if he waited for the king's ceremonious travelling, and desirous to cut his visit as short as possible, at once resolved to set out for Windsor, leaving his queen to follow at her leisure. Henry met the Castillian king on Elworth Common, two miles from Windsor. Ho had taken care to array himself with royal magnificence, which contrasted the more advantageously with the costume of Philip, who was in deep mourning for the deceased Isabella. Henry wore a gown of purple velvet, with a hood of the same, and a gold chain with a George of diamonds. His horse was richly adorned with embroidered caparison, and his suite, in brave apparel, rode splendid steeds covered profusely with goldsmith's work, with cloths of tissue velvet, embellished with dragons and roses, with tassels, gilt bells, and precious stones. Philip, on the other hand, was ill-mounted on a horse which the king had sent him, with a design, as it would seem, of not adding too much to the effect of his personal appearance. He was clad entirely in black, as were his followers, with cloaks of tawny and black.
The two kings saluted each other with all show of affection, but Philip, whilst endeavouring to be courteous, could not help betraying what was passing in his thoughts, for he declared that he was now punished for not going into Calais when they last met. Henry replied that walls
