Jean Plaidy

by To Hold the Crown: The Story of King Henry VII;Elizabeth of York

  “Childhood does not last forever.”

  “They have all gone, Doña Elvira… . My dear dear brother …”

  “He is with the saints… .”

  “And Isabella … She didn’t want to go back to Portugal. She had married once for state reasons. That should have been enough. It was strange how she was so unhappy about going to Portugal but she loved her husband in time. I think she was fond of both her husbands, though she loved Alfonso most. But Emmanuel was very kind to her and she was grateful for that.”

  “That is how it should be. That is how it will be with you, my lady Catalina. But I must call you Katharine now… . It is not so easy to say. But we must all learn to change.”

  “If that were the only thing one had to learn it would be easy. Katharine seems different. Catalina was the girl who was so happy. When we were young I was so proud, Doña Elvira … proud to be the daughter of the Sovereigns who had driven out the Moors and united Castile and Aragon …”

  “So you should have been … and still should be. Never forget who you are, Catalina … Katharine.”

  “But we soon learned that Spain was more important than any of us. The greatness of Spain. The glory of Spain. That was what mattered. That was why Isabella had to go back to Portugal and marry Emmanuel… .”

  “Who had loved her ever since she set foot on Portuguese soil to marry Alfonso, and was a good husband to her.”

  “But she didn’t want to go back. I remember her sadness so vividly. I was only ten at the time … but I remember. They sent her back and she died … and now Maria has had to go to marry Emmanuel … because friendship with Portugal is important to Spain.”

  “Perhaps you should rest. You are talking too much.”

  “It relieves me to talk. I must talk to you. These people here don’t speak our language. I wonder what Arthur will be like.”

  “He is to be your husband. You will love him because it will be your duty to do so.”

  “I wonder if Juana loves her husband.”

  “There has been enough of this talk. Now you are going to lie down for twenty minutes. I shall awaken you at the end of that time and you must prepare yourself to meet the important people whom the King will send.”

  “Will the King come himself?”

  “Of course the King will come. He will want to show how grateful he is to be able to welcome the daughter of the Sovereigns of Spain.”

  “I hope they will like me.”

  “What nonsense is this! How could they fail to like the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella? Now rest. You are wasting the time in idle talk.”

  She allowed her veil to be taken off and lay back on the cool cushions. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the future by looking back over the past.

  Did Juana love her husband? She couldn’t stop thinking of her. The truth about Juana had come to her suddenly. It was after one of those distressing scenes in the nursery when Juana had suddenly begun to dance wildly around and climbed onto the table and danced and when their governess tried to stop her she had clung to the arras hanging on the walls, swinging there. Their mother had been called and she had ordered that Juana be seized but none could take her because she kicked at them as they tried, and all the time she was laughing wildly.

  Then Queen Isabella had said, “Juana, listen to me.”

  And that had made Juana stop laughing.

  “Come,” the Queen had gone on quietly. “Come down to me, my darling.”

  Then Juana had come down and flung herself into her mother’s arms and her wild laughter was substituted by sobbing, which was as wild.

  The Queen had said quietly, “I will take the Infanta to her apartments. Bring one of her potions.” She had led Juana away, but as she left, the Queen had seen the wide frightened eyes of Catalina. She touched her on the head caressingly and passed on.

  It had been later when the Queen had sent for her. They were alone together. Those had been the occasions which meant so much to Catalina. Then Queen Isabella was not so much the great Sovereign—greater even than Ferdinand, many said—she was the fond mother.

  “Come to me, Catalina,” she had said, holding out her hand and the child had run to her, clinging to her. The Queen had lifted her youngest daughter onto her lap and said: “You were frightened, my child, by what you saw today. Juana is not to blame. She is not wicked. She does not do these things to grieve us. She does them because they are a compulsion … do you understand? Sometimes there is a little seed in families which is passed on … through the generations. Be kind always to Juana. Do not provoke her. Juana is not the same as we are. My mother suffered from the same affliction. So you see what has happened to Juana has come to her through me. You understand why I wish us to be very, very kind to Juana.”

  She had nodded, happy to be nestling close to that great queen who was also her dear mother.

  She had never forgotten that. She had never provoked Juana, and had always tried to follow her mother’s wishes and keep Juana quiet.

  But even if Juana had been different from the others she still had to play her part. Insane or not she must marry for the glory of Spain; and a grand match indeed had been found for her—no less than the heir of the Hapsburgs, Philip son of Maximilian—and so she would unite the houses of Hapsburg and Spain.

  It had been a match which made King Ferdinand’s eyes sparkle, and the alliance had been even stronger when Margaret, Maximilian’s daughter, married Juan.

  Dear, dear Juan, who had been so beautiful and so good. No wonder they said of him that he was too good for long life. The angels wanted him for themselves, that was what Catalina had heard someone say. And there had been that terrible time at Salamanca when the town was en fête to welcome Juan and Margaret his bride and the news that Juan was dead had come to them. There seemed no reason … except, as they said, that the angels wanted him in Heaven.

  Catalina remembered her mother’s grief. She suspected that loving all her children as the Queen did, Juan was her favorite, her beloved son, her only son. That was a melancholy time of mourning. Margaret his new wife was heartbroken because, being Juan, he had already charmed her.

  Doña Elvira was at the side of her couch.

  “Is it time then?” she said.

  “I gave you a little longer, so we must hurry now.”

  It was no use thinking of the past. She had to face the future. Catalina was left behind in Spain. Katharine was here … in England.

  It seemed that they were not to meet the King and Prince Arthur at this stage, but were to begin the journey to London without delay. Doña Elvira was a little put out. She thought that the bridegroom at least should have been waiting at Plymouth to greet his bride.

  “I am not sorry,” said Katharine. “It will give me time to know a little of this land … and to see the people… .”

  She was feeling better as the effects of the sea journey were wearing off, and was making an effort to stop grieving for her family and feel an interest in the new sights which presented themselves.

  How green was the grass! What a number of trees there were! “It is a beautiful green country,” she said to Elvira. She liked the villages through which they passed—the gabled houses which clustered round the church, the village greens. “Always green,” she said. “It is the color of England.”

  It was only when they came to Exeter that she saw crowds again. They had come to look at her, the Spanish Princess, the Queen-to-be. “She is so young,” they said. “Only a child. Well, Arthur is the same. It is better for him to have someone of his own age.”

  But they were disappointed because she was veiled and they could not see her face clearly.

  “Is there something wrong that we are not allowed to see her?” Her hair was beautiful—long and luxuriant, hanging down her back, and there was a glint of red in it.

  At Exeter Lord Willoughby de Broke was waiting to greet her.

  He was charming. The King would soon be on his way, he told h
er. In the meantime he had the King’s express command to make sure that everything which could be done to make her comfortable was done.

  She thanked him and said she had been made very welcome.

  “You will discover how delighted we are to have you with us,” he told her. “I am the High Steward of the King’s Household and he has sent me from Westminster to make sure that nothing is left undone. The Spanish ambassadors are here in Exeter and they will be calling upon you soon, I doubt not. They will want to make sure that you are well cared for and if there is anything that does not please you, you must tell me and I promise you it shall be rectified.”

  Katharine assured Lord Willoughby de Broke that she was well cared for. He was able to speak a little of her language and she was grateful for that. She realized that she would have been wiser to have spent the time when she was waiting to come to England in learning the English language. It was going to be very difficult for her to understand and make herself understood. She wondered why her parents had not insisted that she learn English and could only assume that her father might have been unsure that the match would take place and she be whisked off to some other country for the interest of Spain.

  Almost immediately she was told that Don Pedro de Ayala had called to see her.

  She was delighted to meet one of her own countrymen and asked that he be sent to her immediately.

  Don Ayala was elegant and gallant and he reminded her so much of home when he spoke to her in Castilian. She felt comforted to have him at her side.

  “The King is eager for you to arrive in the capital as soon as possible,” he said. “There the marriage will take place without delay. The King will meet you near London that you may be escorted there with all the deference due to an Infanta of Spain.”

  “I had thought the King might have come to Plymouth,” she said.

  “It is three weeks’ journey from London, Infanta.”

  “It does not seem that he is eager to meet me.”

  “He is eager, I promise you. This is a fortunate day for you, my lady, for England and for Spain. This marriage is one of the finest things that has happened since the expulsion of the Moors from our country.”

  “Surely not as important as that. I should have thought my brother’s and sisters’ marriages were more important than mine.”

  “Nay. We need the friendship of this island. Your father-in-law is a shrewd man. He is making England a country to be reckoned with. You may find it necessary to speak with me from time to time. You may think that there are certain matters which would interest your mother and your father.”

  “Am I to be a spy in my new husband’s household?”

  “Never that. Just a good friend to England and perhaps an even better one to Spain.”

  “I cannot say,” she answered coolly. “There is so much I have to learn.”

  Dr. de Puebla was announced while de Ayala was with her.

  De Ayala’s face crinkled in distaste.

  “Must you see this man, Highness?” he asked.

  “He is my father’s ambassador,” she answered.

  “I must warn you of him. He is a man of the people, lacking in education and manners. He is a Jew. He seems to forget his Spanish upbringing and lives like an Englishman.”

  “I have been told that I must become an Englishwoman,” she replied. “Perhaps Dr. de Puebla is wise in his habits. My parents think highly of him.”

  “He is on good terms with King Henry. Such good terms that he has been offered a bishopric.”

  “Which he refused? Would that not have brought him in a good income?”

  “It would indeed and his fingers itched to grasp it. But your father forbade it. He did not want him working entirely for the King of England.”

  “Which makes me believe he is a man of sound sense. I shall receive him, Don Pedro. It would be churlish not to.”

  “Then it must be, but I warn you, be careful of the man. He is of low origins and this comes out.”

  De Puebla was brought in. He bowed obsequiously to Katharine and she noticed the looks he cast on de Ayala. The antagonism between these two was apparent. She would have to steer a path between them because they would be her chief advisers at the Court of England—de Puebla no less than de Ayala.

  De Puebla assured her of his delight at seeing her, of the King’s pleasure at the marriage and of the joy this brought all lovers of Spain.

  “And of England,” said de Ayala pointedly.

  “My lady Princess,” said de Puebla, “the friendship between the two countries is the ardent wish of the Sovereigns … and of the King of England … no less. I’ll swear that the joy of the bride’s family equals that of the bridegroom.”

  “I am very pleased that you are both here to be of service to me. I know I shall need your help.”

  “It shall be my greatest desire to give it,” said de Ayala.

  “And do not forget good Dr. de Puebla is standing by awaiting your command.”

  When they left Exeter she rode between Lord Willoughby de Broke and de Ayala; and de Puebla was furious because he had to fall in behind.

  She knew that she was going to have to endure their enmity when de Ayala continued to complain about the low-born Jewish lackey and de Puebla whispered to her to have a care of de Ayala … a self-seeker, a man bound by manners and customs rather than good sense, a coxcomb more interested in the cut of a jacket than matters of state.

  “I will take care,” she promised both of them.

  It was de Puebla who touched on those matters which de Ayala would have thought not for her ears.

  De Puebla dispensed with Spanish innuendos. An inexperienced girl of sixteen who was going to be thrust into the heart of politics needed plain speaking. She must, thought de Puebla, have some inkling of what it was all about. De Ayala thought that she was just a symbol. All she had to do in his opinion was look beautiful, charm the King and the Prince, let the former see that she had no intention of meddling and to be fruitful and within a few years have half a dozen lusty boys playing in the royal nurseries.

  He said: “Arthur will be manageable.”

  “Manageable?” she asked.

  De Puebla nodded. “He will love you, I am sure. He has been told that he must, and Arthur always does as he is told. He is delicate. Pray God he lives. But he is gentle and you will have no trouble from him. The Queen is mild and does not interfere so the King is very fond of her. Arthur has two sisters and a brother but they need not concern you very much. The older sister Margaret has to go to Scotland to marry the King there. Mary the other is very young yet. Henry the brother is ten years old—rather a lusty young fellow. You can be thankful that he is not the elder. Arthur—if he were a little stronger—would be the ideal match. You’ll have to watch his health a little. He’s delicate and if he died it would not be so good for Spain. But your main concern is to please the King.”

  “How shall I do this?”

  “Oh, be docile, bear children. Take a pattern from the Queen. The King trusts nobody. He is suspicious of all. This is due to the fact that there are other claimants to the throne. Recently two impostors arose on the scene. Their claims were clearly false and he overcame them. But there was one other … fortunately he is no longer in a position to menace the King. But the fact that they could appear and there be people to follow them has frightened the King. He is continually on the alert and would be very resentful if he thought anyone was trying to work against him.”

  “Spain would never do that.”

  De Puebla smiled. “Our two countries are friends,” he said. He moved closer to her and whispered: “But sometimes it is necessary to be watchful of friends.”

  She could see what de Ayala meant. There was something offensive about de Puebla. But he was clever—she sensed that, and her father had told her that she must listen to him and do what he asked just as she must with the ambassador de Ayala.

  It was a slow journey; she was very glad sometimes to ride in th
e horse litter which Lord Willoughby de Broke had provided. When she was tired of the litter there was her palfrey ready for her. She certainly could not have complained of a lack of attention.

  She was learning something about the people of England. They were independent and did not stand on the same ceremony that she was accustomed to. The people came out to see her as she passed and they were clearly surprised that she should be veiled. They were frankly curious about her. Why, they asked, if she has nothing to hide in her face does she hide it?

  They had no natural dignity, she decided; but she rather liked that. They shouted to each other, jostled each other and called to her in a manner she believed was not as respectful as it should have been.

  The amounts of food that were consumed seemed enormous; it was interesting to be housed in the mansions of the squires and knights of the places they passed through. Here there would be fires in great fireplaces and minstrels to sing for her delight.

  So she learned about her new country and her conversations with both de Ayala and de Puebla gave her some indication of what she must expect.

  She was most interested to hear of Arthur.

  “A gentle boy,” was de Ayala’s comment.

  “Like a piece of clay he’ll be in your hands,” said de Puebla. “Mild as milk and sweet as honey. He’s a good boy. He’s caused no trouble to his father and he’ll cause none to his wife.”

  “Is he not very strong?” she asked.

  “He is not as robust as his younger brother,” said de Ayala.

  “He’ll grow out of it,” said de Puebla. “Give him a wife. That’s what he needs.”

  “Perhaps he seems more delicate than he is because he is constantly compared with young Henry,” commented de Ayala.

  “There you speak truth,” said de Puebla in such a voice that meant “For once.” “I reckon they would have been happier if their roles had been reversed. Henry for King, Arthur for Church.”

  “I beg you to refrain from such observations before the Infanta,” said de Ayala.

  “The Infanta will forgive me,” said de Puebla … “particularly when she sees the truth of my remarks. My dear lady, your father has instructed me to give you an account of the English Court and that is what I must do.”