Arthur

Chapter 2

Arthur, Prince of Wales; Dogmersfield, Hampshire, England. November 4th 1501

 

“He did what?!” I asked again. The stupid man was laughing.

“He simply entered her room! The maid, that idiot, did not believe he was the King. He entered the Infanta’s room as if it was a whore’s room!”

I had never felt so angry and ashamed. How could my father enter in my bride’s room like that, as if he was as well-mannered as a doorman or a butcher?

“What happened?”

“I think the Infanta was not prepared to see him. He left the room and said he would wait outside until she was ready. He asked me to come and ask Your Grace to go inside and wait with him.”

“Poor girl.” I shook my head. Catalina had only arrived in England. She was a stranger in the country, and a princess. Surely it was a shock for her to be surprised by a man invading her room when she was not ready. I heard about how the daughters of Spain were strictly raised. They were of undeniable dignity and pride. That must have frightened her. Maybe she was too embarrassed to come outside.

“If she is to be Queen of England, she must be used to the English way.” The silly pageboy replied.

“Well, I am not sure if this is something England should be proud of!” I said angrily, and he bowed and gave way to me.

I entered the palace thinking about Catalina. We had been changing letters ever since we were young, as part of our homework. All I knew about my future wife was that she was remarkably intelligent, fluent in French, Latin and Greek, not to mention Spanish. I had a portrait of her brought from Spain, and she looked pleasant, with light eyes and auburn hair. Apart from that, I knew nothing. I felt nervous at the thought of seeing for the first time the woman I was supposed to marry.

“Finally you are here!” My father greeted me. There was a small group of people waiting with him for the Infanta to come out of her room: a few pageboys, members of the Counsel and servants; I frowned.

“Father, why did you enter her room? She must be feeling so embarrassed!”

He shook his arms. “I was at the door for about twenty minutes asking to see her. She chose not to come out in terms, so I entered. I had to see what I bought.”

“She is a princess. It was not how she was raised.”

“Then she would better get used to it. She is no longer in Alhambra.”

I wanted to reply, but then the door of her rooms opened, and an annoyed middle-aged woman appeared, looking directly at us. I felt her eyes on me, examining from head to toe.

“Her Grace, Catalina of Aragón, Infanta of Spain and Princess of Wales.” She announced, stepping aside and giving way to the princess to come.

I was utterly surprised; I had imagined her in many ways. I was sure she would be a scared, frightened little girl, shy and lost. But she was nothing like that.

Catalina walked in our direction, her chin up and a brief smile on her face. She had an exquisite beauty, not a vulgar pretty face, no flirtatious ways like the women in the court. Her eyes were so light and big as two sapphires, shining in disdain to us, as if she was not afraid of a bad-mannered man intruder who rudely invaded her privacy. Her hair was partially hidden on a lace mantilla, but I could still see her shiny auburn hair perfectly harmonizing with her pale face.

“Your Majesty” she curtsied low to my father, respectfully, but still carrying that disdainful look. “Your Grace.” She turned to me, in a not so low curtsy. “I am honored to meet you.” She spoke in a perfect French, without accent.

“As we are.” My father replied also in French, with a smile. “My son and I could not contain our excitement to see the new Princess of Wales.”

“So I’ve heard. I apologise I was not ready to receive you. I was not informed we would meet so soon, therefore I was surely not expecting this delightful surprise.”

I smiled, nervously. She was brave and bold, looking at my father as if he did not matter. I had never seen a woman like that my whole life.

“It surprises me greatly that you did not hear me at your door. I might have spent good twenty minutes arguing with your maid.”

“Again, I apologise. Dona Elvira does not understand English very well. I am sure she meant no offense.”

“Have you not heard me?” he repeated the question.

Catalina shook her arms. “Oh, I heard a disturbance. I merely assumed it was a fight between two pageboys.”

I had to look down in order not to laugh; she was daring! But my father was obviously finding the argument very amusing.

“Well, it was not. At any rate, I apologise if I seemed too intrusive. I merely wished to meet you, and so did my son.”

“Ah, you have nothing to apologise. You are the King.”

He smiled.

“Well, will you stay? Shall I prepare a bath?” She looked at him, as if she was indicating he did not bathe at a regular basis. “Or maybe just order a tin of water for you to wash your hands if you prefer?”

“Clean clothes and a bath would be fine, thank you.” He replied, in the same disdainful sound. “We shall have dinner here.”

“May I order you the same, Your Grace?” She replied, looking at me. I wanted to accept, but those blue eyes looking at me attentively made me feel unease. I felt my face burning, and I knew I was blushing, which made me upset.

“I – I acc-ept.” I managed to say in French. She nodded, and turned to her maids, giving orders in Spanish. I felt so intimidated by that girl; she was nothing like I had imagined; nothing.

My father was the first to go, as one of her maids indicated him the way. I found myself alone with her, only surrounded by the servants and her curious maids looking at us.

“I hope you feel welcome.” I said in Latin. “I just wanted to say… You are home. There is no need to feel scared.”

She nodded quietly, and looked up to me, facing me with such strength that made me blush once again. “I am never scared, Your Grace.”