Ludlow Castle was buzzing with activity. Lord Edmund Mortimer, master of the castle, was preparing to welcome some of England's brave knights who had fought so valiantly in France. Everyone was anxiously anticipating their arrival. Everyone, that is, except for young Lady Katherine Mortimer. As her servant Margaret fluttered around her chamber talking of all the splendid people who would be arriving and of the lovely parties, Kate sat staring out her window looking rather displeased with the world.
"My lady, why art thou so melancholy?" asked Margaret. "Are you not anxious to meet the gentlemen your father has invited?"
"What reason have I to rejoice in their coming? That perhaps I shall find a husband from among them, as my father desires? Perhaps I shall pray that some fat ugly baron who kept at the rear in France thinks the king's niece a worthy acquisition to his estate? Forgive me Margaret, but I take no pleasure in the idea."
"For shame Kate! Thou are too harsh! These men do not all come to court you, and you should not be so displeased with those who do. Do you never intend to marry?"
"No. I shall become a nun."
Of course this was not true. Kate would indeed like to marry someday, but not for the purpose of making a political alliance. Fortunately her father had no desire to see his daughter used to get some ambitious fellow closer to the crown. This is perhaps why despite his great desire to see his daughter married he had refrained from arranging a match himself, at least thus far. The men her father invited to their castle bored her tremendously, and she was sure tonight would be no different. She turned from the window and threw herself down on her bed.
"My lady! The gentlemen approach! Will you not look?" Asked Margaret excitedly.
"Nay," she answered, burying her face in her pillow.
At the banquet honoring the arrival of their guests, Kate had the great misfortune of being seated next to Sir Robert Croft, a scrawny knight who fancied himself an expert in theology, especially as angels were concerned. He went back forth from telling her all he believed he knew about angels to telling her how much she looked like an angel until Kate very much wanted to be with the angels. When she was finally able to leave the banquet table she was approached by Lord Blackwood, a short portly gentleman some thirty years her senior who had been trying to woo her for the past three years.
"My dear lady," said the gentleman, "will you step apart with me?"
"Nay sir, will not."
"But my lady I have something I wish to show you. . ."
"You fiendish toad!" said a voice behind Kate. "You have heard the lady say she did not wish to speak with you. Now off with you, careless fool!"
Kate turned to see the tall, broad shouldered man who addressed Lord Blackwood. This was the first time she had seen him.
"Sir!" said Lord Blackwood, greatly offended. "Why do you address me so? Why do you concern yourself with my conversation with this lady?"
"Because," snarled the unknown man, "I have no more desire to hear your squealing voice than this lady does. Now be gone, unless you wish to step apart with me!" The tall man put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Harry Percy! Thou art the most despicable villain. . ." the man took a step towards Lord Blackwood and he seemed to think better about finishing his statement and instead turned and left in a huff. Kate was intrigued. Could this stranger really be Harry Percy, better known as Hotspur, the most famous warrior in all England?
"You are the knight Hotspur?" she asked him.
"Are you dull woman? You have just heard the gentleman address me as Harry Percy, and if Harry Percy be not Hotspur, then I am not Harry Percy."
"You are not as tall as I had believed you would be," she said, feigning disappointment.
"I am not on my horse," he answered. "And are you not Katherine Mortimer, the young lady with the great misfortune of being the niece of one of the most foolish and weakest men to ever take the throne in England?"
"Alas sir, I am," said Kate, trying not to laugh. "Tis a heavy burden, but I bear it as best I can. And you sir, were not captured by the Scots after killing Lord Douglas and then allowed to be ransomed because you argued so fiercely with your captors that they could bare your presence?"
"A man must strike at his enemies any way he can," said the man smiling mischievously. "Now excuse me, I must take my leave. There are too many dim-witted apes about for my liking." With that he left the banquet hall.
"What a foul man!" Margaret whispered to Kate once she was sure he could not hear her. As Kate watched him stride out of the room, she was not sure she shared Margaret's opinion.