Arthur

Chapter 28

Arthur, Prince of Wales; Ludlow, Wales, England. February 1502.

Catalina had grown devotedly close to Lady Margaret Pole within days, and I was pleased to see my bride blooming in happiness and confidence. She arrived in England as a foreigner, a beautiful stranger with great determination and pride. Now, she laughs constantly, and genuinely smiles to everyone. Her English had dramatically improved, and she was able to understand reasonably well and hold a good conversation with the lords. Her joy and pride was visible and contagious, so much that during the second week of the month, we received a letter from my grandmother directly asking whether Catalina was with child.

“Oh, dear Lord!” She laughed, putting the letter aside. “What a crone!”

We were sitting by Catalina’s conference room alone. She had refused to answer to previous letters from my grandmother subtly asking for her health. Now, she got an ultimate to reply to that letter; according to the pageboy who delivered, she asked him to stay with us until Catalina had written her reply, and given it to him to deliver.

“I shan’t reply.” My wife said, decidedly. “Honestly, I shan’t, my love. I owe her no explanations!”

“Oh, you stubborn woman…” I replied smiling. “I only hope you are aware that she will not stop until she gets what she wants, and that you are creating a rival.”

“She does not bother me, I do not see her as a rival. I am, after all, the Princess of Wales, and I owe explanations only to you and to the King of England.”

“I know, my love, but you do not know my grandmother…”

“Oh, believe me, I know her kind.” She replied, seriously. “Arthur, I have grown up surrounded by all sort of people, I was raised by Isabella of Castile, possibly the most stubborn and decided woman in the world.”

“My grandmother has no boundaries…”

“Your grandmother has no shame.”

I looked at her, with a raised brow. “I suppose, and that is why I wouldn’t want to cross her way.”

“But, my love” She stood up from her chair and sat in front of me. “You are the Prince of Wales. You are the next King of England. She can’t rule through you.”

“I do not intend to let her, my dear, I simply do not wish to anger her and give her reasons to make our lives hard now. We are away from court and she has my father’s ears. My father does anything she says.”

Catalina sighed.

“May I ask you a question?” She said, after a minute in silence.

“Anything, my love.”

“I was wondering if you could tell me about Perkin Warbeck.”

I was surprised with the question, and obviously could not hide it, for she quickly added: “I’ve heard two maids talking about it, and I did not fully understand; yet I’ve understood enough to gather courage to ask you about it.”

Very strange that maids were talking about such matter inside the Ludlow castle, I thought. But I decided to tell Catalina the truth.

“A few years ago, there was a man who claimed to be Prince Richard of York.” I started. Catalina sat straighter, attentive to what I said. “He had convinced many people and gained many supporters, including the Kings of France and Scotland. He was even addressed as King Richard IV. One day, though, he was captured by my father’s men.”

“He was taken to the Tower for questioning and investigations. My father’s men said the man’s true identity was Perkin Warbeck, from Tournai, an imposter. However, the man was not a simple man, with rude manners; no, he was educated, refined and knew a lot about life at court and life with King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth Woodville. He could speak French, Spanish and Latin, that I know of. Even the Spanish Ambassador, present during the questioning, was impressed.”

“My father and my grandmother were ready to turn a blind eye to all that and convict him as a pretender. They were convinced he was not who he claimed to be. So, they brought another figure to the scenery that would make their decision easier.”

“Queen Elizabeth.” Catalina guessed.

“Exactly. My mother was taken to the questioning room to meet with Warbeck. At first, she did not want to; she thought it was a lie. Remember, she spent years trying to bury her brothers in her heart, convincing herself they were dead.”

“But it all changed when she met him.”

“How so?” My wife asked.

“Even I don’t know. Something happened. They said my mother was convinced that man was indeed her brother Richard. She would go visit him twice a day, even more, and ordered that he was not tortured by any means. She was ready to speak out and recognize him as her brother, King Richard IV, giving up her own position as Queen…”

“But before she did any of that, Warbeck confessed being a liar, and that he had created that story to deceive the King and the Queen. He refused to meet with my mother again, despite her insistent pleads. A few days later, he was hanged.”

“Why does it sound so strange to my ears?” She asked.

“Because it is. Why did he decide to simply drop the case he had it all to win, since she had the Queen’s recognition? Why surrender when he had gone so far? What would be worst for him than dying?”

“Shame you might say, heavy conscience or guilt; but still, it does not explain the man itself. My mother would not allow herself to be fooled in such way. He was truly a very refined man, with great knowledge of the Plantagenet court. He knew details about the private life of the royal family, and he could provide a very valid and viable explanation about how did he escape the Tower.”

“What was it?”

“He claimed my grandmother, Queen Elizabeth Woodville, disguised a pageboy as Prince Richard when she was asked to send her son over to the Tower to make company to Prince Edward, who was already imprisoned. She did not trust King Richard III, so she decided not to send her younger son away. She managed to sneak him from sanctuary and send him to Tournai, where King Edward IV’s sister, my Aunt Margaret of York, lived for years. Aunt Margaret was the Duchess of Burgundy. And, oddly enough, there are registers of the Duchess being very generous to Warbeck, paying for his education and financially supporting over the years. She never denied that.”

“It all sounds as if he was legit.” She whispered, and I had noticed she had turned pale. “Is it over now?”

“It is. He was convicted, executed, my father is King, my mother is Queen and I will inherit the throne. There are no more claimants. My mother, after Warbeck’s execution, has brought his widower into her household to be her maid-oh-honor.”

“He had a wife?”

“And a daughter. The baby was sent away to Scotland a little before Warbeck’s confession. You can take your own conclusions.”

Catalina did not reply, but I knew her brain was working furiously.

“Would it change anything if he was indeed Prince Richard of York?” She finally asked.

“My dear, it would change everything.” I replied. “But we have no way to know. Therefore, nothing can be changed.”