The Complete Tudors: Nine Historical Novels

by Jean Plaidy

  The monumental pies with their golden pastry, the great joints, the dishes of flesh and fowl, were brought in with ceremony; the minstrels played and the feasting and drinking began.

  But there must be pageantry, and in the space made ready before the banqueting table the dancing and spectacle began.

  Katharine looked on at the ship, the castle and the mountain, which in their turn were wheeled into the hall to the cries of admiration of the guests. The ship, which came first, was manned by men dressed as sailors who called to each other in nautical terms as their brilliantly painted vehicle trundled round and round the hall. On the deck were two figures which were intended to represent Hope and Desire, and suddenly there appeared beside them a beautiful girl dressed in Spanish costume.

  Henry called to Katharine from his place at table: “You see, this is all in your honor. You are the hope and desire of England.”

  It was very flattering and Katharine, guessing what her young brother-in-law implied, graciously acknowledged the compliment with smiles which she hoped expressed her great pleasure and appreciation.

  The mountain came next, and here again were allegorical figures all intended to pay homage to the new bride.

  The most splendid of all the pageants was the castle which was drawn into the hall by lions of gold and silver; there was much whispering and laughter at the sight of these animals, for it was well known that inside each of the lion’s skins were two men; one being the front part, the other the hindquarters. The spectators had seen these animals perform before, as they were a feature of most pageants; but they slyly watched Katharine to see her astonishment, for it was believed that she must be wondering what strange animals these were.

  Seated on top of the castle was another beautiful girl in Spanish costume, and she, like the other, was being courted by Hope and Desire.

  And when the ship, the mountain and the castle were all in the hall, the minstrels began to play; then beautiful girls and handsome men stepped from them, and as there was an equal number of both sexes they were most conveniently partnered for a dance, which they performed in the space before the banqueting table.

  When this dance was over the performers bowed low and, to great applause, slipped out of the hall.

  Now the company must join in, but first the royal bride and groom must dance followed by other members of the royal family.

  Katharine and Arthur did not dance together. Many present thought this meant that the marriage was not yet to be consummated. So Katharine chose her maid of honor Maria de Rojas, and together they danced a bass dance, which was stately and more suitable, she thought, to the occasion than one of those dances known as la volta and which involved a good deal of high stepping and capering.

  Katharine was at her best in the dance, for she moved with grace and she was an attractive figure in spite of the superior beauty of Maria de Rojas.

  Two gentlemen at the table watched Maria as she danced. One was the grandson of the Earl of Derby, who thought her the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; but there was another watching Maria. This was Iñigo Manrique, the son of Doña Elvira Manuel, who had accompanied the party to England in the role of one of Katharine’s pages.

  Maria was conscious of these looks as she danced, and deliberately she gave her smile to the young Englishman.

  But although Maria’s beauty attracted attention there were many who closely watched the young Infanta. The King and Queen were delighted with her; she was healthy and whether or not she was beautiful was of no great moment. She was fresh and young enough not to be repellent to a young man. They were both thinking that when the time came she would be fertile.

  Arthur watched her and found pleasure in watching her; now that he knew he need not fear the consummation of their marriage he was very eager to win the friendship of his wife.

  Henry could not take his eyes from Katharine. The more he saw of her the more his resentment rose. The precocious youth enjoyed occasions such as this, but he was never completely happy unless he was the center of attraction. If only he had been the bridegroom! he was thinking. If only he were the future King of England!

  The dance was over, the applause rang out while Katharine and Maria returned to their places. Arthur then led out his aunt, the Princess Cecily, and the dance they chose was a grave and stately one. Henry, watching them through sullen eyes, was thinking that so must Arthur dance, because the high dances made him breathless. But that was not the English way of dancing. When the English danced they threw themselves wholeheartedly into the affair. They should caper and leap and show that they enjoyed it. He would show them when his turn came. He was impatient to do so. When it came he and his sister Margaret stepped into the center of the hall; there was immediate applause, and all sullenness left Henry’s face as he bowed to the spectators and began to dance. He called to the minstrels to play more quickly; he wanted a gayer air. Then he took Margaret’s hand and the color came into their faces as they danced and capered about the hall, leaping into the air, twirling on their toes; and when Margaret showed signs of slackening Henry would goad her to greater efforts.

  The company was laughing and applauding, and Henry, the sweat running down his face, threw off his surcoat and leaping and cavorting in his small garments continued to divert the company.

  Even the King and Queen were laughing with pleasure, and when the music eventually stopped and the energetic young Prince with his sister returned to the table, congratulations were showered on them from every corner of the hall.

  Henry acknowledged the cheers on behalf of himself and Margaret, but his small eyes rested on Katharine. He knew that his father was wishing his first-born were more like his other son.

  Henry realized then that he was hoping Katharine was making a similar comparison of himself and Arthur.

  DOÑA ELVIRA MANUEL, that most domineering of duennas, was delighted with the state of affairs in England, for while Katharine had her separate household she remained in charge of it, and she knew well that once Katharine became in truth the wife of Arthur she would cease to maintain the power which was now hers.

  As duenna to a virgin bride she was supreme, for Katharine herself, on the instructions of Queen Isabella, must bow to her wishes.

  Doña Elvira had never been chary of expressing her opinions, and it was inevitable that other ambitious people in the Spanish entourage should find her intolerable and seek to undermine her power.

  There was one who held great influence with Katharine. This was Father Alessandro Geraldini who had been her tutor for many years and who now was her chief chaplain and confessor.

  Since he had been in England Geraldini had become increasingly aware of the important role which was his and what a different matter it was to be adviser and confidant of the Princess of Wales after being merely tutor to the Infanta of Spain. Not only was Katharine the most important lady in England next to the Queen, but she was also more important to her parents’ political schemes than she had ever been before. And he, Geraldini, was her confessor. Was he going to allow a sharp-tongued woman to dominate him!

  He sought for means of destroying her power. He asked permission to speak to Don Pedro de Ayala confidentially.

  The ambassador shut the door of the anteroom in which the interview took place and begged Geraldini to state his business.

  Geraldini came straight to the point. “Doña Elvira Manuel has become insufferable. One would think she was the Princess of Wales.”

  “In what way has she offended you, my friend?”

  “She behaves as though she has charge of the Infanta’s very soul. And that happens to be my duty.”

  Ayala nodded. He was secretly amused; he liked to contemplate strife between the domineering duenna and the ambitious priest.

  “The sooner our Infanta is free of such supervision the better, I say,” continued Geraldini. “And the sooner this marriage becomes a real marriage the better pleased will be our Sovereigns.”

  “I see that you are
in their Highnesses’ confidence,” said Ayala with a smile.

  “I think I know my duty,” answered Geraldini sharply. “Could not their Highnesses be persuaded that it is dangerous to Spanish policy if the marriage remains unconsummated?”

  “Tell me how you see such danger in our Infanta’s virginity.”

  The priest grew pink. “It is…not as it should be.”

  “I will pass on your comments to the Sovereigns,” Ayala told him. Geraldini was not satisfied. He went to Puebla. Like most of the Infanta’s household he had come to despise Puebla, who was often disparagingly referred to as the marrano. Christianized Jews were people of whom the Inquisition had taught Spaniards to be wary.

  As for the English, they had found Puebla parsimonious and, although this was a trait they had to accept in their King, they did not like it in others. Therefore Geraldini was less careful of offending Puebla than of offending Ayala.

  “The marriage should be consummated,” he said at once. “It is our duty as servants of their Catholic Highnesses to see that this unsatisfactory state of affairs is ended.”

  Puebla eyed the priest speculatively. He knew of Geraldini’s influence with Katharine.

  “It is the wish of the Infanta?” he asked.

  Geraldini made an impatient movement. “The Infanta is innocent. She expresses no opinion. How could she, knowing little of such matters? Yet she holds herself willing to obey the command of her parents.”

  Puebla was thoughtful, wondering how best he could ingratiate himself with the English King. He believed that England was to be his home for a long time, and that pleasing the King of England was as important a matter—if not more so—as pleasing the Spanish Sovereigns. Yet the consummation of the Infanta’s marriage seemed to him of small importance compared with the matter of her dowry.

  Even as he listened to Geraldini he was wondering what he could do to please the King of England in this matter without displeasing the Spanish Sovereigns. The dowry had been agreed on as two hundred thousand crowns, one hundred thousand of which had been paid on the wedding day. Fifty thousand more were due in six months’ time and another fifty thousand within the year. The plate and jewels, which Katharine had brought with her from Spain and which were to form part of the payment, were valued at thirty-five thousand crowns. This was important to Henry because the plate and jewels were actually in England. For the remainder of the dowry he had only the word of Isabella and Ferdinand to rely on. Why should not Henry take the plate and jewels now? They were in England, so protests from Spain would be fruitless. Henry had already shown when he had seen the Infanta before her wedding that in England he was determined to have his way.

  So Puebla was of the opinion that the consummation of the marriage was of far less importance than the Infanta’s dowry.

  “It is always the King of England who will decide,” he said.

  “Then I think we should let it be known that the Sovereigns of Spain expect consummation without delay.”

  Puebla lifted his shoulders and Geraldini could see that, like Ayala, he was indifferent.

  But the fact that Geraldini had approached both ambassadors in the matter was brought to the notice of Doña Elvira, and she immediately realized that the officiousness of the priest was directed against her own authority.

  Doña Elvira was never a woman to consider whether or not she offended others.

  She asked Geraldini to come to her apartments and, when he arrived, she went straight into the attack.

  “It appears, Father Geraldini, that you choose to forget that I am in charge of the Infanta’s household!”

  “I did not forget.”

  “Did you not? Then it seems strange that you should go about explaining that it is the wish of their Catholic Highnesses that the marriage should be consummated.”

  “Strange, Doña Elvira? It is common sense.”

  “You are in the Sovereigns’ confidence?”

  “I…I am the Infanta’s confessor, and as such…”

  Doña Elvira’s eyes narrowed. And as such, she thought, you enjoy too much of her confidence. I shall remedy that.

  She interrupted coldly: “Queen Isabella put me in charge of her daughter’s household, and until she removes me from that position, there I shall remain. It is for the good of all that as yet the marriage shall remain unconsummated. Our Infanta is as yet too young and her husband even younger. I will thank you, Father, not to meddle in affairs which are no concern of yours.”

  Geraldini bowed to hide the hatred in his eyes, but Doña Elvira made no attempt to hide that in hers.

  There was war between them, and Doña Elvira would not be satisfied until she had arranged for the insolent priest’s recall to Spain.

  HENRY CAME RUNNING into his brother’s apartments, his eyes blazing with excitement.

  Arthur was stretched out on a couch looking very pale.

  “Are you sick, Arthur?” asked Henry, but he did not wait for an answer. “I have just seen a strange thing, brother. Our father has done to death his best falcon, and for no other reason than that it was not afraid to match itself with an eagle.”

  “Is that so?” said Arthur wearily.

  “Indeed it is so. Our father ordered the falconers to pluck off its head, and this was done.”

  “I understand why,” said Arthur, “because I remember how he hanged the mastiffs.”

  “Yes,” said Henry. “I remembered too. Our father said: ‘It is not meet for any subject to attack his superior.’”

  “Ah,” mused Arthur, “our father is fond of these little parables, is he not?”

  “But his best falcon! And all because the bird was game enough to show no fear of the mighty eagle. I should have treasured that falcon. I should have been proud of him. I should have used him continually. I should not have plucked off his head for bravery.”

  “You are not King.”

  “No—that is not for me.” Arthur noticed the sullen lines about the little mouth.

  “It is unfortunate. You would have made a much better King than I, Henry.”

  Henry did not deny this. “But you are the elder. It is the Church for me. And you already have a wife.”

  Arthur flushed. He was a little ashamed of being a husband and yet no husband. It was embarrassing to know that there was a great deal of talk about whether or not the marriage should be consummated. It made him feel foolish.

  Henry was thinking of that now. His face was as usual expressive, and Arthur could always guess at his thoughts.

  Henry strutted about the apartment, imagining himself as the husband. There would be no question of the consummation then.

  “You find her comely?” he asked slyly.

  “She is very comely,” answered Arthur.

  “And she brings you much enjoyment?”

  Arthur flushed. “Indeed yes.”

  Henry rocked on his heels and looked knowledgeable. “I have heard that the Spaniards are a passionate people, for all their solemn dignity.”

  “Oh, it is true…it is true…” said Arthur.

  Henry smiled. “It is said that you and she are not husband and wife in truth. I’ll warrant those who say that do not know the real truth.”

  Arthur began to cough to hide his embarrassment; but he did not deny Henry’s suggestion.

  Henry began to laugh; then suddenly he remembered the falcon. “If I were King,” he said, “I do not think I should have to hang my bravest dogs and destroy my most gallant falcon to warn my subjects that they must obey me.”

  Henry was looking into the future, and once more Arthur guessed his thoughts. Do I look so ill then? he wondered. And he knew that he did, and that the chances were that he would not live, nor beget children, to keep Henry from the throne.

  IT WAS TIME that Arthur returned to the Principality of Wales and the question had arisen as to whether Katharine should accompany him.

  The King was undecided. Each day it seemed to him that Arthur looked weaker.

&nbs
p; Puebla had been to him and, in an endeavor to assure Henry that he, Puebla, in reality served the King of England even though he was supposed to be the servant of the Spanish Sovereigns, he suggested that Henry should immediately take possession of Katharine’s plate and jewels.

  “They will, of course, be Your Grace’s at the end of the year, but why should you not take them now?”

  Henry considered the value of the plate and jewels—some thirty-five thousand crowns, according to the valuation made by the London goldsmiths—and when he contemplated such wealth his fingers itched to take possession of it. A year was a long time to wait. Anything could happen in a year, particularly as Arthur was not strong. But once the plate and jewels were in his possession there they should remain.

  He sent therefore to Katharine’s treasurer, Don Juan de Cuero, and asked that the plate and jewels be handed to him.

  This Don Juan de Cuero refused to do.

  “Nay,” he told Henry’s messenger, “I am in charge of the Infanta’s revenues, and it was the express command of the Sovereigns of Spain that the plate and jewellery should remain the property of their daughter until the time was ripe for the payment of the second half of the dowry.”

  Henry was irritated when he received this reply, but he had no intention of upsetting the Spanish Sovereigns at this stage and was ready to abandon the idea of laying his hands on the plate and jewels until the appointed time.

  Puebla came to him with a suggestion. Puebla had made up his mind that it would be to Spain’s advantage if the marriage were consummated, and he was determined to do everything in his power to bring this about.

  He had Henry’s confidence. More than once he had shown the King of England that he worked with an eye to England’s advantages, and now he had a suggestion to make.

  “If the Infanta could be induced to wear her jewellery and use her plate it could then be called second-hand and you could decline to accept it as part payment of the dowry. Ferdinand and Isabella would then be bound to pay you thirty-five thousand crowns instead of the plate and jewels—which would remain in England so that you could always take them if you wished.”