“It is this matter of the Infanta’s marriage. It seems a very strange thing that two young people should be married and not consummate.”
Geraldini nodded. “As the King forbade consummation it is almost certain that the Infanta would have mentioned in her confessions to her priest if she and her husband had defied the King’s wish.”
Geraldini looked wise.
“A confessor is the one confidant to whom it is possible to tell that which one keeps secret from the world. Is that not so?”
“It is indeed so.”
“Therefore if anyone knows what happened on the Infanta’s wedding night, that person is most likely to be yourself.” The little priest could not hide the pride which showed in his eyes. “In the name of the Sovereigns, I ask you to tell me what happened.”
Geraldini hesitated. He knew that if he told the truth and said he did not know, he would cease to be of any importance to Puebla; that was something he could not endure. He wanted to see himself as the Infanta’s confidant, as a man destined to play a part in Spanish politics.
“You see,” went on Puebla, noticing the hesitancy, “if the marriage was consummated and this fact was kept hidden the bull of dispensation from the Pope might not be valid. It is necessary to lay all the facts before his Holiness. We must have the truth, and you are the man who can give it. You know the answer. Your peculiar position enables you to have it. I pray you give it to me now.”
As it was more than Geraldini could bear to admit ignorance, why should he not make a guess? The young couple had spent the wedding night together according to custom. Surely they must have consummated their marriage. It was but natural that they should.
Geraldini paused only one second longer, then he leaped.
“The marriage has been consummated,” he said. “It is likely that it will prove fruitful.”
Puebla left Durham House with all speed. He first dispatched a letter to the Sovereigns and then sought out members of the King’s Council.
This was what he had hoped. He liked clean-cut facts. If the Infanta carried the heir of England in her womb then there could be no more doubt of her position in Henry’s realm.
The belief that the marriage had not been consummated was highly dangerous. It was a matter about which there would continue to be conjecture.
Puebla was therefore very happy to let it be known that Arthur and Katharine had cohabited and that there might be a hope that their relationship would be a fruitful one.
DOÑA ELVIRA WAS HOLDING in her hand a letter which she had taken from a drawer of her table, where a short while before she had hastily placed it.
The courier had left and was now well on his way to the coast with the letters he was carrying from England to Spain.
“And this,” said Elvira to herself, “will not be one of them.”
She was going to burn it in the flame of a candle as soon as she had shown it to Iñigo, and made him aware that he would have to move faster. He was evidently slow in his courtship if he had allowed Maria de Rojas to prefer this Englishman to himself.
How had the Englishman been in a position to pay court to Maria de Rojas, she would like to know! Clearly there were traitors in the household. She, Doña Elvira Manuel, and she alone, should rule; and if her rule had been absolute, Maria de Rojas would never have exchanged anything but glances with her Englishman.
She suspected three people of seeking to wean Katharine from her. The first was that pernicious little priest, who recently had given himself airs; the second was Don Pedro Ayala whose cynicism and riotous living had earned her disapproval; and of course, like everyone else of noble blood, she disliked Puebla.
She would send for Iñigo. She would show him the letter in Katharine’s handwriting, asking for a dowry for Maria de Rojas; and she would have him know that a son of hers must not allow others to get ahead of him.
She called to one of the pages, but even as she did so the door was flung open and her husband Don Pedro Manrique came into the room. He was clearly distraught, and temporarily Doña Elvira forgot Maria de Rojas and her love affair.
“Well,” she demanded, “what ails you?”
“It is clear that you have not heard this rumor.”
“Rumor! What is this?”
“It concerns the Infanta.”
“Tell me at once,” demanded Doña Elvira, for she expected immediate obedience from her husband as she did from the rest of the household.
“Puebla has told members of the Council that the marriage was consummated and that there is every hope that the Infanta may be with child.”
“What!” cried Elvira, her face growing purple with rage. “This is a lie. The Infanta is as virgin as she was the day she was born.”
“So I had believed. But Puebla has told members of the Council that this is not the case. Moreover he has written to the Sovereigns to tell them what, he says, is the true state of affairs.”
“I must see Puebla at once. But first…let the courier be stopped. It is a lie he is carrying to the Sovereigns.”
“I will dispatch a rider to follow him immediately, but I fear we are too late. Nevertheless I will see what can be done.”
“Hurry then!” Doña Elvira commanded. “And have Puebla brought to me immediately. I must stop the spread of this lie.”
Her husband retreated in haste, leaving Doña Elvira to pace up and down the apartment.
She was certain that Katharine was still a virgin. She would have known if it had been otherwise. There had been only the wedding night when they had been together, and they were both too young, too inexperienced…Beside, the King had made his wishes known.
If what that miserable Puebla was saying was true, if Katharine carried a child within her, then she would no longer be exiled to Durham House; she would be at Court, and that would be the end of the rule of Doña Elvira.
“She is a virgin,” she cried aloud. “Of course she is. I would swear to it. And if necessary there could be an examination.”
DR. DE PUEBLA STOOD before Doña Elvira and her husband. He was a little disturbed by the fury of the woman. She was formidable, and moreover he knew that Queen Isabella regarded her highly.
“I want to know,” she shouted, “why you have dared to tell this lie to members of the Council here, and write it to the Sovereigns.”
“What lie is this?”
“You have declared that the marriage was consummated. Where were you on the wedding night, Dr. de Puebla? Peering through the bed curtains?”
“I have it on good authority that the marriage was consummated, Doña Elvira.”
“On whose authority?”
“On that of the Infanta’s confessor.”
“Geraldini!” Elvira spat out the word. “That upstart!”
“He assured me that the marriage had been consummated and that there was hope of issue.”
“How had he come into possession of such knowledge?”
“Presumably the Infanta had confessed this to him.”
“He lies. One moment.” Elvira turned to her husband. “Send for Geraldini,” she commanded.
In a few minutes the priest joined them. He was a little pale; like everyone in the household he dreaded the fury of Doña Elvira.
“So,” cried Elvira, “you have informed Dr. de Puebla that the marriage between our Infanta and the Prince of Wales was consummated, and that England may shortly expect an heir.”
Geraldini was silent, his eyes downcast.
“Answer me!” shouted Elvira.
“I…I did verily believe…”
“You verily believed indeed! You verily guessed. You fool! Do you dare then dabble in matters which are so far above you! You should be in your monastery, babbling your prayers in your lonely cell. Such as you have no place in Court circles. Confess that the Infanta never told you that the marriage was consummated!”