hunting party had reached the lodge, and nothing more was said. Later, though, Henry asked Brandon what he thought of the matter.
"My guess," Brandon ventured, "is that the king will betroth you to Princess Catherine. Otherwise, he might find that he has to return her and her dowry to Spain."
Whatever his father decided, Henry hoped the princess would remain in England. Whether they wed or not, he wanted Catherine as his friend. That, he was certain, would have pleased Arthur as much as it pleased
him.
Â
T HE PLEASANT EARLY DAYS OF AUTUMN 1502 GAVE WAY to blustering chill and dampness. My life was as bleakly gray as the weather. I was invited nowhere and saw no one but Doña Elvira and the members of my little Spanish court. King Henry seemed to have forgotten me, though the queen occasionally sent me small giftsâa book she thought I might enjoy, a collar for Payaso. Don Rodrigo informed me that the negotiations for my marriage to young Henry remained stalled over issues of my dowry.
My health worsened. One day, as I lay suffering from a derangement of the stomach, my page announced the arrival of an envoy from my parents, the duke of Estrada. The duke was from one of Spain's oldest noble families, known to be loyal and trustworthy, but puffed up with self-importance and pompous in the extreme. I was forced to rouse myself from my bed to receive him.
Stroking his luxuriant mustaches, the duke delivered a long speech, choked with flowery phrases, informing me that my father had ordered him to prepare a ship to carry me and my retinue back to Spain.
"The ship already lies at anchor in the River Thames, my esteemed princess. Their Catholic majesties desire that you and the members of your court begin packing."
"Is it true?" I cried, my physical discomfort suddenly disappearing. "Swear to me that it is true!"
"Alas, no, my lady, it is not true," the duke confessed, his mustaches drooping forlornly. "But it must
appear
to be true."
My eyes filled with tears of disappointment. "Please explain this," I said miserably. "And, I beg you, do not disappoint me like this again."
"It is meant as a threat, my lady. King Ferdinand has not paid the second portion of your dowry since Arthur's death. If King Henry expects to collect that second portion and keep the first, then he must agree to a betrothal between you and his second son."
Now I understood that the sight of a ship lying ready to take me back to Spain was intended to force King Henry's hand. I had been in England long enough to know that the king would not willingly let 200, 000 escudos escape from his treasury. And so, having no choice but to go through the pretense, I ordered my wooden chests to be brought from storage and a few items placed in them. Apparently the ploy was successful. Within days King Henry sent word that negotiations would begin on a new marriage contract. I quietly unpacked again, and the waiting ship disappeared from the Thames.
I consoled myself with the knowledge that, even if I had been allowed to return to Spain, it would have been for only a short time until my parents dispatched me to a new marriage. Perhaps, I thought, a future marriage to Henry could work out very well. I liked him. I believed we would be friends.
But still no money arrived for my household. Since Arthur's death my father had not sent any money for my expenses, and I had nothing with which to pay my servants or to support the members of my court. I learned from Don Rodrigo that Spain's engagement in a war in Italy had drained the royal treasury and that even he had not received his ambassador's salary in over a year.
Surely, I thought, my father would not allow me to live in penury. My ladies and I repaired our threadbare gowns as best we could, though there were few reasons to do so. I was not invited to any events at courtâin part because I was still officially in mourning. My duenna believed it her duty to keep me in seclusion. My seventeenth birthday
"My guess," Brandon ventured, "is that the king will betroth you to Princess Catherine. Otherwise, he might find that he has to return her and her dowry to Spain."
Whatever his father decided, Henry hoped the princess would remain in England. Whether they wed or not, he wanted Catherine as his friend. That, he was certain, would have pleased Arthur as much as it pleased
him.
Â
T HE PLEASANT EARLY DAYS OF AUTUMN 1502 GAVE WAY to blustering chill and dampness. My life was as bleakly gray as the weather. I was invited nowhere and saw no one but Doña Elvira and the members of my little Spanish court. King Henry seemed to have forgotten me, though the queen occasionally sent me small giftsâa book she thought I might enjoy, a collar for Payaso. Don Rodrigo informed me that the negotiations for my marriage to young Henry remained stalled over issues of my dowry.
My health worsened. One day, as I lay suffering from a derangement of the stomach, my page announced the arrival of an envoy from my parents, the duke of Estrada. The duke was from one of Spain's oldest noble families, known to be loyal and trustworthy, but puffed up with self-importance and pompous in the extreme. I was forced to rouse myself from my bed to receive him.
Stroking his luxuriant mustaches, the duke delivered a long speech, choked with flowery phrases, informing me that my father had ordered him to prepare a ship to carry me and my retinue back to Spain.
"The ship already lies at anchor in the River Thames, my esteemed princess. Their Catholic majesties desire that you and the members of your court begin packing."
"Is it true?" I cried, my physical discomfort suddenly disappearing. "Swear to me that it is true!"
"Alas, no, my lady, it is not true," the duke confessed, his mustaches drooping forlornly. "But it must
appear
to be true."
My eyes filled with tears of disappointment. "Please explain this," I said miserably. "And, I beg you, do not disappoint me like this again."
"It is meant as a threat, my lady. King Ferdinand has not paid the second portion of your dowry since Arthur's death. If King Henry expects to collect that second portion and keep the first, then he must agree to a betrothal between you and his second son."
Now I understood that the sight of a ship lying ready to take me back to Spain was intended to force King Henry's hand. I had been in England long enough to know that the king would not willingly let 200, 000 escudos escape from his treasury. And so, having no choice but to go through the pretense, I ordered my wooden chests to be brought from storage and a few items placed in them. Apparently the ploy was successful. Within days King Henry sent word that negotiations would begin on a new marriage contract. I quietly unpacked again, and the waiting ship disappeared from the Thames.
I consoled myself with the knowledge that, even if I had been allowed to return to Spain, it would have been for only a short time until my parents dispatched me to a new marriage. Perhaps, I thought, a future marriage to Henry could work out very well. I liked him. I believed we would be friends.
But still no money arrived for my household. Since Arthur's death my father had not sent any money for my expenses, and I had nothing with which to pay my servants or to support the members of my court. I learned from Don Rodrigo that Spain's engagement in a war in Italy had drained the royal treasury and that even he had not received his ambassador's salary in over a year.
Surely, I thought, my father would not allow me to live in penury. My ladies and I repaired our threadbare gowns as best we could, though there were few reasons to do so. I was not invited to any events at courtâin part because I was still officially in mourning. My duenna believed it her duty to keep me in seclusion. My seventeenth birthday
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