Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1 by Philippa Gregory Page B

her bedchamber had been appointed by her. She did not want the young people becoming exhausted, nor did she want them neglecting their duties. So once a week the prince’s household and friends solemnly escorted him to the princess’s rooms and left him there overnight. For both young people the experience was an ordeal of embarrassment. Arthur became no more skilled, Catalina endured his silent determination as politely as she could. But then, one day in early December, Catalina’s monthly course started and she told Dona Elvira. The duenna at once told the prince’s groom of the bedchamber that the prince could not come to the Infanta’s bed for a week; the Infanta was indisposed. Within half an hour, everyone from the king at Whitehall to the spit boy at Baynard’s Castle knew that the Princess of Wales was having her course and so no child had yet been conceived; and everyone from the king to the spit boy wondered, since the girl was lusty and strong and since she was bleeding – obviously fertile – if Arthur was capable of doing his side of their duty.
    In the middle of December, when the court was preparing for the great twelve-day feast of Christmas, Arthur was summoned by his father and ordered to prepare to leave for his castle at Ludlow.
    ‘I suppose you’ll want to take your wife with you,’ the king said, smiling at his son in an effort to seem unconcerned.
    ‘As you wish, sir,’ Arthur replied carefully.
    ‘What would you wish?’
    After enduring a week’s ban from Catalina’s bed, with everyone remarking among themselves that no child had been made – but to be sure, it was early days yet, and it might be nobody’s fault – Arthur felt embarrassed and discouraged. He had not gone back to her bedroom and she had sent no message to invite him. He could not expect an invitation – he knew that was ridiculous – a princess of Spain could hardly send for the prince of England; but she had notsmiled or encouraged him in any way at all. He had received no message to tell him to resume his visits, and he had no idea how long these mysteries usually took. There was no-one that he could ask, and he did not know what he should do.
    ‘She does not seem very merry,’ Arthur observed.
    ‘She’s homesick,’ his father said briskly. ‘It’s up to you to divert her. Take her to Ludlow with you. Buy her things. She’s a girl like any other. Praise her beauty. Tell her jokes. Flirt with her.’
    Arthur looked quite blank. ‘In Latin?’
    His father barked his harsh laugh. ‘Lad. You can do it in Welsh if your eyes are smiling and your cock is hard. She’ll know what you mean. I swear it. She’s a girl who knows well enough what a man means.’
    There was no answering brightness from his son. ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘If you don’t want her with you, you’re not obliged to take her this year, you know. You were supposed to marry and then spend the first year apart.’
    ‘That was when I was fourteen.’
    ‘Only a year ago.’
    ‘Yes, but…’
    ‘So you do want her with you?’
    His son flushed. The father regarded the boy with sympathy. ‘You want her, but you are afraid she will make a fool of you?’ he suggested.
    The blond head drooped, nodded.
    ‘And you think if you and she are far from court and from me, then she will be able to torment you.’
    Another small nod. ‘And all her ladies. And her duenna.’
    ‘And time will hang heavy on your hands.’
    The boy looked up, his face a picture of misery.
    ‘And she will be bored and sulky and she will make your little court at Ludlow a miserable prison for both of you.’
    ‘If she dislikes me…’ he started, his voice very low.
    Henry rested a heavy hand on his boy’s shoulder. ‘Oh, my son.It doesn’t matter what she thinks of you,’ he said. ‘Perhaps your mother was not my choice, perhaps I was not hers. When a throne is involved the heart comes in second place if it ever matters at all. She knows what she has to do; and that is