Why should she say Poor Henry! when he was quite unaware of any lack in his life? Perhaps she should say Poor Katharine, who at this time lay sick at Ludlow, her dowry half paid, her position most insecure. What would happen to Katharine of Aragon now? The Queen of England would do all in her power to help the poor child, but what power had the Queen of England?
BEFORE THE burnished mirror in his apartment young Henry stood.
He had received the news with mingled feelings. Arthur…dead! He had known it must happen, but it was nevertheless a shock when the news came.
Never to see Arthur again! Never to show off his superior prowess, never to strut before the delicate brother. It made him feel a little sad.
But what great avenues were opening out before him. To be Prince of Wales when one had been Duke of York! This was no trifling title, for one who had been destined to become Archbishop of Canterbury would one day be King of England.
King of England! The little eyes were alight with pleasure; the smooth cheeks flushed pink. Now the homage he received would be doubled, the cries of the people in the streets intensified.
No longer Prince Henry—but Henry, Prince of Wales, heir to the throne of England.
“Henry VIII of England!” There were no sweeter words in the English language.
When he contemplated them and all they meant he could cease to grieve for the death of his delicate brother Arthur.
IN A LITTER, covered with black velvet and black cloth, Katharine travelled from Ludlow to Richmond. How different was this journey from that other which she had taken such a short time before with Arthur!
The weather had changed, but Katharine was unaware of all the beauty of an English spring. She could think only of the husband whom she had lost, the husband who had been no husband.
And then there came a sudden blinding flash of hope as she remembered the fate of her sister Isabella, which was so like her own. Isabella had gone into Portugal to marry the heir to the throne, and shortly after their marriage he had died in a hunting accident. The result was that Isabella had returned to Spain.
Now, thought Katharine, they will send me home. I shall see my mother again.
So how could she be completely unhappy at that prospect? She believed that this time next year her stay in England would be like a distant dream. She would wander through the flagged corridors of the Alhambra; she would look through her windows on to the Courtyard of Lions; she would stray into the Court of Myrtles, and her mother would be beside her. The pomegranate would no longer merely be a device; it would be all about her—growing in the gardens, pictured on the shields and the walls of her parents’ palace. Happiest of all, her mother would be beside her. “You did your duty,” she would say. “You went uncomplaining to England. Now, my Catalina, you shall stay with me for ever.”
Katharine of Aragon would again become Catalina, Infanta, beloved daughter of the Queen.
So, as she went on her way to Richmond, she thought tenderly of Arthur who had been so kind to her in life, and who in death would, she believed, bring her relief from bondage.
QUEEN ELIZABETH was waiting to receive the widow.
Poor child! she thought. She will be desolate. How will she feel, alone in a strange land? Does she realize how her position has changed? She, who was Princess of Wales, is now merely a Spanish Princess, who has been married in name only. If there had been an heir on the way the circumstances would have changed considerably. But now…what is her position? How sad that girls should be used thus by ambitious men.
The King came to her apartment. He gave her that cool appraising look which she knew meant that he was looking for some sign of pregnancy.
She said: “The Infanta should arrive at Richmond tomorrow, I believe.”
A wary look replaced the speculative one in the King’s eyes.
“I will keep her with me for a while,” went on the Queen. “This is a terrible shock for her.”
“It would not be wise for her to remain at Richmond,” said the King quickly.
The Queen did not answer, but waited for his commands.
“She should be installed with her household outside the Court,” went on the King.
“I thought that, so soon after her bereavement…”
The King looked surprised. It was rarely that the Queen sought to question his orders.
“This is a most unsatisfactory state of affairs,” he said. “Our son dead within a few months of his marriage, and that marriage never consummated—or at least so we believe.”
“You have reason to suspect that it was consummated?” asked the Queen sharply.
The King shrugged his shoulders. “I ordered that it should not be, but they went to Wales together—two young people, not displeased with each other. It would not have been impossible for them to be together…alone.”
“If this happened,” said the Queen excitedly, “if Katharine should be with child…”
“Then she would be carrying the heir to the throne. Our son Henry would not be pleased, I’ll swear.”
“Henry! He is so like my father sometimes that I do not know whether to rejoice or tremble.”
“I thank God we have our son Henry, but I am not an old man myself, and I should have some years left to me…enough that Henry may be of age before his turn comes to take the throne. But, as you say, what if Katharine should be carrying a child? It is possible, although I doubt Arthur would have gone against my expressed wish. If only he had lived a few months longer. You may be sure there will be difficulty with those Spaniards.”
“They will be more inclined to meet your demands if we treat their daughter well.”
“I shall treat her as her dignity warrants. She shall stay with you at Richmond for a day or so; until she has had time to overcome her grief. Then she shall take up residence in the house opposite Twickenham Church. She shall live there with her own suite. Remember, she has no claim on us now and it would be as well that she shall not be at Court until we have negotiated with her parents as to what is to become of her.”
The Queen bowed her head. It was no use pleading with her husband. She would not be able to comfort the young girl, to treat her as she would a sorrowing daughter. The King would have the Sovereigns of Spain know that the death of the Prince of Wales had put their daughter in a precarious position.
KATHARINE WAS SORRY that she could not stay with the Court at Richmond, but she believed this to be only a waiting period, for she was certain that, as soon as her parents heard the news, they would give orders that she return to Spain. But it would take a little time for the message to reach Spain and for the Sovereigns’ orders to be sent to England.
It would have been pleasant to have had the company of Henry and Margaret. Margaret herself was in need of comfort, for she was soon to depart to Scotland as a bride.
But this could not be and, after a brief stay at Richmond, Katharine and her household were removed to a turreted house with the church opposite, and Doña Elvira took charge of all household arrangements.
It was soon decided that the palace of the Bishop of Durham, which was situated on the Strand, would be a more suitable dwelling for the Infanta; and so to Durham House she went.
Elvira was delighted with this seclusion because it meant that, removed from the Court as they were, she was in charge of the entire household. Her husband, Don Pedro Manrique, and her son, Don Iñigo, held high posts in Katharine’s household and Elvira was ambitious for them. She had determined that Maria de Rojas should be betrothed to Iñigo; she believed that Maria’s dowry would be a large one.