Author's Note: First off, thanks so much to everyone who read/reviewed chapter 1, and I am glad you like it so far (enough to return for chapter 2!!)
DISCLAIMER: I, of course, do not own the characters or any part of "The Tudors". Darn.
For the purposes of the story, I have made Arthur and Catherine of Aragon older than they actually were in real life. In reality, Arthur died at age 15, but in this story, he is married to Catherine at 16, and she is eighteen. Arthur is, in this story, 3 years older than Henry, instead of the 5 years older he was in reality.
CHAPTER II
"Arthur, we have word from Spain at long last," Henry VII told his son happily.
Arthur shifted uneasily. His long-arranged marriage to the Princess of Aragon and Castile had been put off on many occasions. Relations between the two countries were not especially good for many years, and though an alliance with Spain could prove advantageous, for many years both countries examined other possibilities. After much deliberation, however, it was finally decided that Arthur and the Spanish princess would marry. Now, Arthur was sixteen. King Henry had wanted his son to be married at least a year previously, but the Spaniards had taken longer to convince.
"The Spanish princess will be on English soil in a month's time; you are to be a husband, my son. Are you not pleased?"
Arthur frowned nervously. "I am, my lord father."
"You do not sound pleased," the king said, "Have you not been exchanging letters with the princess for nearly three months?"
"I have," Arthur said. He supposed that his father said this to instil confidence in him. However, it did no such thing. The letters were dictated by tutors, and written in Latin. The Spanish princess seemed just as far away as she ever did.
"And does she not impress you? Your tutors tell me she is very intelligent, and reportedly very beautiful."
"I believe she is so,"
"So you are pleased?"
"Yes, my lord. I am satisfied that I shall be very content with the princess."
"As am I. Good, it is settled. Prepare yourself. You may now retire."
Arthur bowed and began to retreat. "Arthur," the king stopped him, "Has your health improved? I heard you were unwell."
"I am better now, father, thank you," Arthur replied.
The king nodded, pleased. He left the hall. Arthur sighed. He turned and headed back to his chambers.
As Arthur was about to enter his chambers, he noticed his younger brother coming down the corridor towards him. "I hear your bride is to arrive shortly," Henry stated.
"Yes, she is," Arthur said shortly.
"Is this not a happy event?" Henry asked.
"It is," Arthur replied.
"Then why don't I hear any joy in your voice?"
"Perhaps I'd be more pleased if I actually knew her, and knew what I was up against."
"Up against?" Henry frowned, "She is a princess, and from Spain, no less. She may be the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand, but she is a princess, a girl, after all. What have you to fear?"
"I do not fear anything. I am happy, and I am looking forward to her arrival."
"As well you should be," Henry said comfortingly, "I've heard tell that she's incredibly beautiful, and accomplished and educated. As she is of royal blood, she shall certainly make a good queen. No man could want more in a wife."
"You are right, Harry; I know. I will learn to be happy with the princess."
"And if you are not, of course, you can live in separate residences. God knows we have no shortage of palaces in which you could safely tuck her away."
"It is difficult to produce an heir when a couple are living in two different places, you know, Harry," Arthur joked.
"Then you must send for her periodically, when producing an heir suits your fancy," Henry grinned.
Arthur laughed, "It is good that you are bound for the church, brother. I fear that you would treat your wife abominably ill!"
"Of course not. If I were to choose a wife, I would choose one who would respect and honour me above all else, and never dare to displease me, so I should have no desire to be rid of her."
"Respect, honour and fear, you mean."
"Respect me, honour me, and fear me, as she respects the wisdom, honours the glory, and fears the wrath of God," Henry stated, "Your wife owes you that much. Make sure that she treats you well, Arthur."
"Would you not love her?"
"If I were very lucky, I just might."
"You are not God, you know; neither am I. My wife need not behold me as such."
"It is true, I am not God, and neither are you; however, you are the next best thing, King Arthur," Henry continued walking up the corridor, then turned around, "That being said, long live our father, the king; may his life and reign be long, and his dynasty longer."
The expectation of the princess's arrival in a mere month was unfounded; the journey took much longer than had been predicted.
Finally, the princess's company landed in Plymouth, where she was greeted by the Spanish ambassador to Scotland, Pedro de Alaya. The ambassador to England, Rodrigo Gonzales de Puebla, was not even yet aware of the princess's arrival; he'd been outwitted by Alaya, who wanted to be the one to meet the Spanish princess. The trick was unknown to the princess's company, and so they then began the journey to meet the royal family in London.
Even the journey to London was long and tedious. A month passed by, and yet the princess was not in London. King Henry was quickly losing his patience. It was not long before he proclaimed that if the princess wouldn't come to him, then he would go and meet her himself. He took himself and Arthur to the village of Dogmersfield, where the princess was resting.
The Spaniards were outraged. It was against their customs, they declared; neither the bridegroom nor his father should set eyes on the bride until after the wedding. However, the king was determined, and so they went to Dogmersfield, and demanded to see the princess.
Catalina was astounded when she was told that the king of England was outside her door. "I could not possibly see him now!" she exclaimed, in her native Spanish tongue.
"It is an outrage!" Catalina's duenna, Doña Elvira Manuel told the ambassador angrily, "She cannot see him; tell his majesty that the princess is indisposed."
The ambassador re-entered to inform them that the king declared he would see the princess, no matter the circumstance. "His son, the Prince of Wales, is here as well. He also wishes to see his bride."
Catalina's eyes lit up at once. "The prince; he is here to see me?" She turned to her ladies-in-waiting, who smiled at her. "I will see them," Catalina decided.
"My lady, no!" Doña Elvira cried.
"We are in England now, Doña," Catalina replied, "We must learn to adapt, sooner or later. If it must be sooner, then so be it."
Doña Elvira drew her lips together tightly. "If your mother were here, she would never forgive me for this. At the very least, my lady Catalina, cover your face and head. Surely the indomitable king would not object to this," she turned and glared at the ambassador, who quickly shook his head.
"Surely not, Doña Elvira, but I must mention that the English put great store in the beauty of their women. Indeed, the king and prince would like to witness for themselves the great beauty of Princess Catalina."
"No, I will never consent to this. They can see that she is healthy and able-bodied. That is all they require. If they need more assurance, they can consult the portraits that were kindly sent to them," Doña Elvira stated.
Catalina smiled at her duenna's protectiveness. "Please, help prepare me," she called to her ladies. Maria de Salinas, one of her favourites, squeezed her hand. Catalina smiled at her. She was excited to be seeing her future husband and father-in-law.
Catalina placed herself before the door, and gave the signal to open in. The king of England, in all his royal glory, strode into the room, his presence immediately arresting it.
Catalina heard herself being introduced: "Infanta Catalina de Aragón y Castilla". More words followed her name, and she supposed it was the king being announced: "His Highness Henry VII, the King of England and France, Lord of Ireland." Catalina didn't understand a single word of the introduction, but smiled despite the fact that the king probably couldn't see her face through the veil. More words followed, and Catalina finally recognized a name: Arthur, Prince of Wales. She watched eagerly, awaiting her husband-to-be to appear. When finally he did, Catalina was surprised. The man she'd heard about, the man who was to marry her and become king, was nothing more than a frail boy. Her immediate reaction was shock, and then slowly came acceptance. Despite being small in stature, the boy was admittedly good-looking, if not handsome. He had kind eyes, Catalina could see, and a friendly smile on his face.
At that moment, she made the decision- perhaps ill-advised decision- to disobey Doña Elvira; she raised her veil to allow the king and his son her face. The stern visage of the king eased into a gentler near-smile. She raised her head high and smiled, greeting them warmly in Spanish. The king's words followed; neither of them understood a word the other said, but they didn't have to. Both were satisfied with the result of their meeting.