“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 the 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.”
“Thank you,” said Katharine, “you are helping me a great deal.”
De Ayala lapsed into silence. He was always annoyed when she talked with de Puebla.
When they were within fifteen leagues of London messengers came to say that the King was on his way and was to meet the bride as soon as he arrived.
Doña Elvira said grimly: “The King may come but he shall not meet the Infanta until after the wedding. You know it is not the custom for the bridegroom and his family to see the bride before the ceremony of marriage has taken place.”
De Ayala said: “This is the King of England. It is not the same.”
“It is the same,” said Doña Elvira. “I should consider myself unworthy of my task if I allowed it.”