It will deter, rather than encourage them. They will also see that our taking Ceuta will one day facilitate the conquest of Granada—something that can only please them.”

The expense of the expedition, he pointed out, would cost little more than the series of tournaments would have done. The King’s other objections were those that any thoughtful ruler would have put forward, and could easily be dismissed. But Henry had gone straight to the root of the matter, in perceiving that the thing that really troubled his father was the possible threat from Castile while his back was turned. There was little time in those days for a protracted adolescence, and young men of the nobility became involved in adult affairs soon after the sixteenth birthday. Even so, this discernment shown by a seventeen-year-old was remarkable.

The King seemed to hear his own voice echoed in his son’s words. When Prince Henry had finished, his father embraced him.

“There is no need for further argument,” he said. “With the help of God I will begin this enterprise and continue it to the end. And since you and I have been together in making this decision, you must be the one to carry the news to your brothers.”

It was in this way that Prince Henry was instrumental in deciding his father, and being involved in the expedition against Ceuta from the beginning. “It is quite true that all the King’s sons greatly wanted to see the project adopted and accomplished, but none of them desired it so strongly as Prince Henry… .” He had never yet seen the shores of Africa. He knew no more of Ceuta than did his father. Yet it was as if his destiny already urged him south toward the unknown land.

But if the initial reason that prompted the attack on Ceuta stemmed from a medieval idea of “knighthood with honor,” the way in which the expedition was prepared anticipated Ma-chiavelli. “[It is necessary to find out] the situation and plan of this city, the height and thickness of its walls, and the nature of its towers and turrets, so as to know what artillery will be required. Also the anchorages that exist there, and what are the prevailing winds for ships at anchor, and whether the beaches are open and sufficiently undefended to allow us to disembark without great risk, or whether the sea is deep enough for us to be able to fight directly from our ships.” Such might well have been the preamble to the initial requirements of D day. It was the directive issued by King John of Portugal in 1412.

To obtain this information would not be easy. The Moslem world was unremittingly hostile to Christian Europe. From the Moroccan shores of the Atlantic to the coastline of Turkey, their barrier was drawn—a barrier that shut off Europe from communication with the Far East, allowing from India and the distant Spice Islands only such merchandise as was approved by the Moslem rulers. Clearly, no Portuguese ship could sail openly into the harbor of Ceuta, land spies, and take soundings of the anchorage. Even in those days, however, there was a tacit agreement that ships carrying ambassadors from one power to another might be permitted to take in water and provisions at ports along their route. On what pretext could King John send an embassy to some Mediterranean power east of Ceuta?

At this time the widowed queen of Martino I of Sicily was looking for a husband. She had already sent ambassadors to King John, suggesting that he might consider his eldest son, Edward, as a suitable bridegroom for her. But King John, who had years before circumvented John of Gaunt’s attempts to involve him in the dispute over the Castilian succession, was not to be taken in by the lure of Sicilian entanglements. Sicily, though—. An idea came to him. He ordered his two finest galleys to be equipped for an embassy, and appointed Affonso Furtado in command, with the Prior of St. John as his coambassador.

“I have thought of a clever stratagem,” he said to his sons. “You know that the Queen of Sicily has already asked me whether I would consider Prince Edward as her husband? Now, I am going to reply. I am going to ask her if she would accept Prince Peter instead. There’s no danger of it! I know very well she will not consider anyone less than my heir. I shall send the two galleys with my ambassadors.