“You will understand, Don Pedro de Ayala,” he said, “that I am unaccustomed to being forbidden to act as I will in my own country. You say this is the wish of the Sovereigns of Spain. It is certainly not my wish. I will talk with my ministers. Fortunately they are with me and if they agree that with their help I make the rules in this country and they decide that I shall see the Infanta, then so be it, I shall.”
De Ayala bowed. “It would be against the will of my Sovereigns.”
“Then we shall see,” said the King.
He turned and addressed his followers and told them what de Ayala had said. “I am therefore calling a council here in that field yonder and there we will determine what is to be done.”
It was an extraordinary scene with the rain now turned to fine drizzle and in the field, with Arthur beside him, Henry asked his ministers to advise him on how to act in these extraordinary circumstances.
With one accord all declared that the King was ruler in his own country and the ridiculous—one might say barbaric—law of Spain must be set aside if it were the King’s will. It would be unwise to let the Sovereigns think that they could control events in England.
So they left the field and went to de Ayala who was waiting on the road.
The King told him what had happened. De Ayala bowed his head and said he would ride ahead to Dogmersfield and inform the Infanta and her household of the King’s decision.
De Ayala was laughing secretly. His nature was such that he enjoyed situations such as this one. He applauded the King’s decision secretly and he would have despised Henry if he had given way, but now he was eager to see what effect this would have on the Infanta’s entourage and particularly on Doña Elvira who was, he had secretly thought for some time, getting a little above herself.
When he returned, the Infanta’s entourage was thrown into turmoil.
“Never,” cried Elvira. “This is a violation of custom. Queen Isabella would never forgive me . . . .”
“It is perhaps a matter for the Infanta herself to decide,” suggested de Ayala.
“The Infanta! She is only a child.”
“She is soon to be a bride and she is at the center of this storm. I see no alternative but to lay the matter before her. And it must be done with all speed as the King is even now riding this way and when he comes he will demand to see the Infanta.”
Katharine listened gravely and gave her decision.
“This is England. Their customs are not ours. The King has declared he will see me unveiled. Well, so must it be. I will receive him and the Prince as they wish.”
Elvira scolded. “What will your gracious mother say when she hears?”
“She will understand,” said Katharine.
De Ayala watched her with admiration. She had spirit, this Princess, and as far as her looks were concerned she might not be an obvious beauty but certainly she had nothing to hide.
“I should be veiled,” cried Elvira. “I should cover my face in shame.”
Katharine shrugged her shoulders and turned away. Elvira must understand that although she had an important position in the household she did not rule it.
Katharine was waiting for the King when he arrived and begged that he be brought to her without delay.
Henry entered. He came to her and stood before her. Then as she bowed he took her hands in his and kissed them.
She looked up at him and saw a man of spare figure, pale skinned, with damp reddish hair falling to his shoulders. The ermine on the sleeves of his gown was wet and bedraggled. He could not speak Spanish and it was difficult for them to talk together but he did manage to convey to her that he was delighted to see her and that he apologized for overriding the laws of her country.
All the time he was studying her intently. She looked strong and healthy. He was relieved to see that it was only a custom and that there had been no ulterior motive in keeping her face covered.
He wanted her to know that he was delighted to see her for he applauded her good sense in adjusting so quickly to English customs.
He turned to one of his attendants and said: “Send in the Prince the moment he arrives.”
He talked to Katharine gently, quietly and although she understood little of what he said, she found him reassuring. She was glad that she had not refused to unveil; she could understand that in this country it would seem a very foolish custom. She was sure her mother would agree with her. She had been brought up to be reasonable.
There was a fanfare from without announcing the arrival of the Prince of Wales and there he was, standing before her . . . a frail boy, smaller than herself, very damp from his ride through the rain, looking at her with apprehension in his pale blue eyes.
She smiled at him and he returned the smile.
Then remembering what was required of him he took her hand and kissed it.
He is only a boy, she thought, younger than I. There is nothing to fear from him.
The King was smiling on them benignly. There was no doubt that they had taken a fancy to each other.
Good! thought the King, but Arthur is too frail as yet for the consummation.
He hurried through the ceremony, and murmured something to Arthur’s squire that the Prince should take off his damp clothes as soon as possible, be rubbed down and put into dry ones.
The Bride and
the Widow
As she was residing in the Bishop’s house it was she who invited the King and the Prince to her apartments to sup and the Bishop being prepared for this was determined to win the King’s favor by making sure that his household provided such a meal as he would get in one of his royal palaces. Henry himself was no glutton, and in fact resented the amount of money which was wasted on food; but he was fully aware of the impression which must be made, not so much on the Princess as on her attendants who would return to Spain and report on the manner in which the Princess had been received and that would include a description of what there had been to eat at the Bishop’s table.
Henry doubted if such sucking pig, chickens, beef, mutton, fish and pies could be surpassed at the Spanish Court and the Infanta certainly seemed surprised by the abundance of it and the large amounts consumed by the guests.
The Prince looked less vulnerable now that he was free of his damp clothes and wore a fine velvet gown trimmed with ermine and a beautifully embroidered shirt. His hair gleamed and his blue eyes shone with pleasure; he was clearly delighted by Katharine’s gentleness.
He could not speak Spanish, but they discovered that they both understood Latin.
She would teach him Spanish, she said, and he felt excited as he always did at the prospect of studying some new subject.
He would teach her English, he promised and she told him that she had already learned a few words.
He asked her about her family and she described to him not what had happened recently but her early days when she had been the baby of a large family. She talked of her mother and he said: “You love her dearly.” She answered that her mother was not only one of the greatest queens of Europe but she had always had time for her children. He knew that Isabella was the ruler of Spain—for although Ferdinand ruled with her it was Isabella who was the leader of the two, for Castile was so much more important than Aragon—but according to Katharine she had also found time to be the best mother in the world.
“Perhaps she will visit you here. Or perhaps we shall go to Spain.”