Katharine, the Virgin Widow Page 6

  “I am so tired,” said Katharine. “There was so much noise.”

  Arthur said: “I am often tired, Katharine.”

  “Goodnight, Arthur.”

  “Goodnight, Katharine.”

  They were so exhausted by the ceremonies and their attendant fears that soon they slept; and in the morning the virgin bride and groom were ready to continue with their wedding celebrations.

  The Tragedy at Ludlow Castle

  ALL LONDON WAS EAGER TO CELEBRATE THE MARRIAGE OF the Prince of Wales and the Infanta; the King was wise enough to know that his people must have some gaiety in their lives, and that if he allowed them to celebrate the marriage of his son, they might for a time forget the heavy taxes with which they were burdened.

  “Let them make merry,” he said to Empson. “A fountain of wine here and there will be enough to satisfy them. Let there be plenty of pageantry. The nobles will provide that.”

  Henry was even ready to contribute a little himself, for he was very anxious that his subjects should express their loyalty to the new Tudor dynasty. There was nothing the people loved so much as a royal wedding; and as this was the wedding of the boy who was destined to become their King, it was the King’s wish that the celebrations should continue.

  Katharine felt a little bewildered by them. Arthur was tired of them, but young Henry revelled in them. Margaret uneasily wondered when her marriage would be celebrated, and as for little Mary, she was delighted whenever she was allowed to witness the pageantry.

  The greatest pageant of all was staged at Westminster, to which the royal family travelled by barge. After the night following the wedding day, Katharine had been sent to Baynard’s Castle where she had been placed under the strict surveillance of Doña Elvira. The King had made it clear to the duenna that the marriage was not yet to be consummated; and as Elvira considered her Infanta as yet too young for the consummation she was determined that the King’s wishes should be respected.

  So, by barge, came the Infanta with her duenna and lovely maids of honor.

  Katharine sometimes wished that her maids of honor were not so beautiful. It was true that she was always dazzlingly attired, and her gowns were more magnificent than those of the girls, but beauty such as that possessed by some of these girls did not need fine clothes to show it off.

  The people lined the river banks to cheer her on her way to Westminster and as she smiled and acknowledged their cheers she temporarily forgot her longing for home.

  Alighting from her barge she saw that before Westminster Hall a tiltyard had been prepared. On the south side of this a stage had been erected; this was luxuriously hung with cloth of gold; and about the open space other stages, far less magnificent had been set up for the spectators.

  This, Katharine discovered, was the joust, the Englishman’s idea of the perfect entertainment. Here the nobility of England would gather to tilt against each other.

  On this, the occasion of the most important wedding in England, the great houses were determined to outshine each other, and this they endeavored to do with such extravagance that, as the champions entered the arena, there were continual gasps of wonder and wild applause.

  Katharine was led on to the stage amid the cheers of the people; and there she seated herself on cushions of cloth of gold. With her were the King, the Queen and all the royal family. But she herself occupied the place of honor.

  She thought how pleased her parents would be if they could see her now.

  Beside her sat Arthur, looking pale and tired; but perhaps that was because Henry was also there, radiant and full of health. He had seated himself on a stool at the bride’s feet and sat clasping his hands about his knees in a manner which was both childish and dignified.

  Margaret, of whom Katharine felt a little in awe, was seated with her mother, but Katharine noticed how she kept her eyes on young Henry. Little Mary could not resist bouncing up and down in her seat now and then with excitement. No one restrained her, for her childish ways found such favor with the people.

  The King was pleased. At such moments he felt at ease. Here he sat in royal panoply, his family all about him—two Princes and two Princesses to remind any nobles, who might have disloyal thoughts concerning his right to the throne, that he was building the foundations of his house with firmness.

  “Look,” said Henry. “There’s my uncle Dorset coming in.”

  Katharine looked and saw the Queen’s half-brother entering the arena beneath a pavilion of cloth of gold which was held over him by four riders as he came. He looked magnificent in his shining armor.

  “And,” cried Henry, “there’s my uncle Courtenay. Why, what is that he is riding on? I do declare it is a dragon!”

  He gazed up at Katharine, eager to see what effect such wondrous sights were having upon her. Her serenity irritated him mildly. “I’ll warrant you do not see such sights in Spain,” he challenged.

  “In Spain,” said Arthur, “there is the great ceremony of La Corrida.”

  “I’ll warrant,” boasted Henry, “that there are no ceremonies in Spain to compare with those in England.”

  “It is well,” Arthur replied, “that Katharine does not understand you or she would not admire your manners.”

  Henry said: “I wish she would learn English more quickly. There is much I would say to her.”

  Katharine smiled at the boy, whose attention was now turned back to the arena, where Lord William Courtenay, who had married Queen Elizabeth’s sister, came lumbering in astride his dragon.

  Katharine was being introduced to English pageantry; she thought it a little vulgar, a little simple, but she could not help but marvel at the care which had gone into the making of these symbols; and the delight which they inspired was infectious.

  Now came the Earl of Essex whose pavilion was in the form of a mountain of green on which were rocks, trees, flowers and herbs; and on top of the mountain sat a beautiful young girl with her long hair loose about her.

  The spectators applauded wildly, but many of the nobles present whispered that Essex was a fool thus to display his wealth before the King’s avaricious eyes. His “mountain” was clearly very costly indeed and the days when nobles flaunted their wealth so blatantly were no longer with them.

  So Katharine sat back in her place of honor and watched the jousting. She listened to the cheers of the people as their favorites rode into the arena; and she found her attention fixed not so much on those whose skill with the lance gave such pleasure to the company, but on the two brothers—her husband and Henry.

  Henry’s eyes were narrow with concentration; his cheeks were flushed. It was clear that he longed to be down there in the arena and emerge as the champion. As for Arthur, he seemed to shrink into his golden seat, closing his eyes now and then when disaster threatened one of the combatants. He knew that death could easily result from these jousts and he had never been able to accept such accidents with equanimity.

  That day there were no serious casualties and he was glad that it was November so that the dusk fell early and it was necessary to leave the tiltyard for the hall of the Palace, where the banquet and further entertainments were awaiting them.

  At the center of the table on an elevated dais the King took his place, and on his left were seated Katharine, the Queen and the King’s revered mother, the Countess of Richmond. On the King’s right hand sat Arthur. Margaret and Mary were next to their grandmother on the Queen’s side, and on the King’s side next to Arthur, in order of precedence, were the nobility of England.

  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, whic
h 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.