Big thank you to everyone, especially TudorGirl910489 and Vain x Life Poetess. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Just a quick note, there is an interesting interview on the BBC History magazine website by Steven Gunn about Henry VII, which I highly recommend listening to. Plus, I found a very interesting article on Roland de Velville-if anyone's interest, send me a message and I'll track down the link.

Happy reading :)

'Well, well,' chuckled Charlie to his friend, Dixon as the two of the strolled into the kitchen, Charlie with a brace of partridges slung over his shoulder, 'if it isn't the King's bright eyed boy?'

'What do you two bastards want?' asked Roland, continuing with sewing his button back on his doublet, 'isn't there a privy you need to clean out,'

'We have a message for our little French friend,' answered Dixon, as he flung himself down on a stool in front of Roland. They liked teasing Roland, not because they saw themselves as being cruel, but because Roland never made any attempt to join in the fun and games downstairs, preferring to eat his meals, in the corner of the kitchen, rather than sit with the rest of the staff or whilst everyone was singing and dancing, he would sit there reading.

'I'm Breton, not French,' muttered Roland, shoving the needle with such force into the fabric that he pierced his skin, 'bugger!'

'Please accept our heartfelt apologies,' laughed Charlie, throwing the dead birds down on the work top with a heavy thud, 'you know, Dixon, I think that's why our King, has taken a shine to friend here, as he now has someone to speak his strange little language to,'

'Its not strange!' snapped Roland, ever the proud Celtic man, jumping to his feet to defend the land of his fathers, 'it is a tongue more ancient and beautiful than the filth you English speak!'

'And I'm sure the King of England will agree with you,' Dixon said, joining in the laughter as he noticed Roland's cheeks turn red with anger as his already thin lips started thinning-not to mention those eyes getting blacker, 'you know, I think what sealed you being favourite, was you finding the poor, little Princess after she made herself sick on that wine, when Mistress Mary left her alone, so she could be pounded hard by Mark in the stables. What is it, with these noble girls and stable lads-maybe they like the feeling of straw on their bare thighs,'

'What is the message,' asked Roland, putting his doublet on and heading towards the door, wanting to be away from this place as soon as possible-not just because he could not stand Charlie and Dixon, but more out of guilt at what had almost happened to poor Mary. The wine, with the extra ingredient, which Lord Strange had given him, was meant for his father, the King. However, Henry had been called away and little Mary, having been abandoned by her carer, was wandering around the palace trying to find a playmate, and seeing the picture of wine, in youthful innocence had helped herself to the proper adult drink. Thankfully, Roland had found her in time before she drank too much of the tainted liquid and the result had only been a few days of vomiting. The girl was now back to her usual playful self and Roland seemed to, in a move that surprised many, won Henry's favour.

'The King would like to see his favourite pet,' answered Charlie, starting to pluck one of the birds, 'he's playing tennis with the Prince. Must be away of relieving some of that frustration, he's been feeling since the Infanta went on her pilgrimage. Though personally, I think it wrong, lusting after your former daughter-in-law in such a way, not that I would say no to a chance of having that holy harlot on her back. You wouldn't either, would you Dixon?'

Charlie turned expecting Dixon to reply to his fantasy about the young lady, who would soon be their Queen, as did Roland, who was expecting another taunt, but to both their surprise, he remained silent. In fact, he just stared at Roland, his usually laughing blues eyes, seeming to examine the every inch of Roland's face.

'Well,' said Roland, unnerved by the sudden turn of events, made his way quickly towards the door, 'I better not keep his Highness waiting,'

Without looking back, Roland hurried out of the kitchens to the tennis courts, leaving a puzzled Charlie and a stunned Dixon, who continued to look after him.

'Dixon,' shouted Charlie, clapping his hands to bring his friend out of his trance, 'what the Hell is the matter with you?

'Have you ever noticed,' said Dixon slowly, 'how Roland has the same black, beady eyes as the King?'

'Yeah, so,' replied Charlie, throwing a handful of feathers at him, 'its a Celtic blood thing. Now stop being such a churl and help!'


Nervously, Roland approached the tennis court, flinching every time he heard the bang of the tennis ball. He was racked with guilt over the thought that a young child had nearly died, out of a petty game of revenge, played out by supposed adults and was praying more times a day than normal, for forgiveness of his sins. It was only by chance that he had returned to chamber, he had been heading towards the chapel to reflect on what he was hoping to do his father, when he had heard the little girl voice coming from the room.

'Harry,' he heard, his father say as the racket wacked against the ball, 'I have decided to remarry,'

Roland listened and wondered if his father had always been so blunt or whether it was the responsibilities of being king, which made him so. Either way, very little had altered in his opinion of the man, who gave him life and then promptly left him. He still hated him, especially as he now had to witness, his poor mother, become a broken woman, with mind blackened by the betrayal of her former lover, but Henry's sudden favour of him, had him worried. It was well known amongst those downstairs, that the King never trusted anyone. That he would rarely ask a servant more than once to do his bidding and most certainly never used the same messenger twice in row. So his sudden interest in Roland had everyone in the kitchens talking and Roland constantly on edge-did the King suspect something was not right?

'Remarry, father?' he heard the young Prince - his half-brother – reply, as once again the sound of thunder rang through the air, 'but mother has only just passed,'

'And I will always miss her,' said Henry, with Roland swore a hint of shaky emotion in his voice, 'but we can't have you as the sole heir to the crown, not when there are still many waiting in the wings, ready to undo all my hard work,'

Roland moved closer to the courts, trying to keep himself hidden as he listened into the conversation, wondering if something of what was said, would be of interest to Lord Strange. He may feel guilty for almost hurting the young Princess, but that did stop what he wanted to do to his father and it seemed his half-brother might also agree with Roland's feelings.

'You have me,' snapped Harry slightly as he hit the ball with all his strength, wanting to inflict some damage on his father, 'unless you want to place me in the nearest church!

'You will still be king, boy,' returned Henry, as he hit the shot designed to hurt him, 'but you can't do it by yourself,'

'Why not? You do,' demanded Harry, returning ball, 'so have you decided, Father, over who is to be your next Queen and my mother,'

'Catalina,' replied Henry in his usual blunt manner as he hit the ball back to his son, 'I have asked the Infanta and she has accepted,'

'Catalina,' repeated Harry, dropping his racket to the floor and letting the ball sore pass his ear, then hitting the wall with a bang, 'Catalina. As in my brother's widow? As in my future wife?'

'Harry, you are only twelve,' said Henry, dodging the loss tennis ball as he tried his best to comfort his son. Despite what others though, he loved all his children and would rather die than see any hurt come to them. When he was alone with his thoughts, he would still mourn the loss of Elizabeth, Edmund and Katherine, but for some reason, he had always found it difficult to form a bond with his second son, 'and still a boy. There is plenty of time to find you a wife,'

'I'm closer to her age then you!' shouted Harry, kicking his racket in frustration. He had been in love with the beautiful Princess with auburn hair, since she had arrived on this shore. He had been so jealous of his older brother, that sometimes he thought it would devour him. So when it had been promised that he should have her, when his brother sadly died, he had been overjoyed, but now, his father was once again taking away what was rightfully his, 'she is only eighteen-nowhere near your age!'

'Harry!'

'But that's the only reason you want her, is it not, Father?' laughed Harry, bitterly, 'cause she is young and with a lot of energy for riding,'

'Harry,' replied Henry, with a surprising about of restraint, 'you don't mean that and as your father, I deserve some respect!'

'Well, you do not respect me!,' roared Harry, storming towards the door, 'and do not expect me to call you new wife mother! In fact, do not expect me to call you, father, sir!'

'Harry, get back here!' shouted Henry, but Harry did not turn back and Henry did not feel the strength to carry on with their debate. He had spent too much time with Arthur when his sons had been little boys and Harry had spent too much time with Elizabeth, so that when Arthur, followed by Elizabeth had ascended to Heaven , he and Harry had been left, trying to forge a relationship, out of what was left. Deciding not to follow, Henry scooped up the tennis ball with his racket and using all his strength, smashed it against the wall, 'bugger,'

'Your Highness,' came a small cough, bring Henry out of his thoughts, 'you asked to see me,'

'Mmm,' muttered Henry, before turning to notice his Breton servant, creeping slowly into the court, 'yes. Do you ride, Roland?'

'Yes, Your Highness,' said Roland, nervously as his father approached him.

'Good, good,' repeated Henry, 'come with me, Roland. I have a little job for you,'


Henry was not sure why he had taken a shine to this particular servant. Perhaps it was because he reminded him of home and he could speak with him, in a language, that none, no matter how close they were to him, could understand.

'I want you to take this to Dowager Princess of Wales,' said Henry, handing Roland a small box and a sealed piece of paper, 'you will find her at Eltham Palace,'

'Yes, You Highness. Do you wish me to leave now?'

'That's what I was hoping,' replied Henry, in a tone, which Roland could not decide whether it was humour or sarcasm. With a brief bow, he hurried towards the door, wanting to inform the King's brother, before leaving, 'oh, and once again, thank you, Roland, for coming to the aid of the Princess Mary,'

'It was nothing, Your Highness,' gulped Roland, 'I only did what anyone else would do,'

'Nonsense,' smiled Henry, 'if you had not found her, when that foolish woman left her alone, I fear she would have drunk more of that spoilt wine and then I do not know what would have happened,'

Thank God, he believed it was just spoilt wine, thought Roland, hoping that the King, could not hear the loud thudding of his heart, crashing against his rib cage.

'I was just doing my duty,' said Roland, as confidently as he could, 'to serve my King and his family,'

Henry nodded his approval, before turning away to see what correspondences lay on his desk, but as he heard Roland leave, he looked up and watched him go. For a moment, he thought briefly, that the younger man, reminded him of someone, but he could not think whom. Not that he spent much time wondering, as he had met so many people in Breton, it was possible that he had come across a relative of Roland at some point during his years in exile and then forgot about them.


'Cat!' cried Mary, letting go of her Grandmother's hand as the two of them stood on the steps of Eltham Palace, welcoming the small party, which had just arrived in the midmorning light. Running over to Catalina, who Thomas had just help dismount from her horse, she did not let Catalina much chance to recover from her long ride, as she threw her arms around her, 'Cat! I'm so happy to see you! I have missed you so much!'

'And I have missed you too, my little Maria,' cooed Catalina, kissing Mary on the top of the head, 'now how have you been, my angel. Your father told me in his letter that you had been ill,'

'Oh I was,' replied Mary seriously, looking up at the Infanta with wide, innocent eyes, 'I was so poorly, that I was not allowed to leave me bed for a week, but I was very brave,'

'It is not regal to behave so pretentiously, Mary,' said Lady Margaret, her voice sounding as no nonsense as ever as she joined the little group by the entrance of Eltham Palace. Taking hold of the little Princess' hand, she kissed her stepson on the cheek, before smiling at Catalina, 'Thomas, Princess it is good to see the both of you. I trust you had a productive journey to Our Lady, Princess?'

'Yes, very,' Catalina smiled and graciously went into a curtsy before her future mother-in-law, 'I believe that it is the place most close to God on earth,'

Lady Margaret continued to smile and in a rare show of affection to someone, who was not close family, she leant forward and kissed the Spanish Princess on the cheek. Trying not to register her surprise on her face, Catalina nodded her head to the Queen Mother, hoping that, in the absents of her own mother, she had won some approval.

'I think, Princess, that you and I may on this occasion be of one mind,' replied Lady Margaret, as she turned away and started to lead the small royal party towards the palace, 'now, shall I show you the Queen's apartments?'


Walking along the corridor, decorated with many fine tapestries, displaying many scenes from the Bible and signs of majesty, Catalina felt her heart start to beat hard in her chest. It had been just under two months, since she had accepted the King's proposal of marriage, but until now, none of it had seemed real. She had slept in chambers, meant for a former Princess of this realm and the plans for marriage had been revealed only to a select few, but today, all that would change. Catalina could see various servants, throw knowing glances at one another as she passed. They must have been gossiping, since they received word that the Queen's rooms, where to once again be opened-which meant if the servants knew, the word must be out amongst the court.

'Cat,' said the Princess Mary, taking hold of Catalina hand with her free one as they walked, 'why are we going to Mama's rooms?'

'I...' started Catalina, before stopping as she felt her heart beat so hard and fast that she feared for a breath moment it would explode. How could she have been so foolish, she thought, looking down at the sweet girl, who was the perfect image of her mother-the woman, Catalina was replacing. And more importantly, she cursed herself, how could she have forgotten, that being with Henry was not just being his wife and fulfil the prophecy of being England's Queen, but she would become a mother to Henry's children too. Margaret knew, but she, surprisingly-perhaps, due to fear from words issued by her Grandmother or in hope that her father would change his mind, had kept quiet, which meant Harry and Mary still were in the dark, regarding the changing situation.

'Would you like me to answer Mary's question, Princess,' asked Lady Margaret, her cold eyes examining the worried expression on the Infanta's face.

'I...no thank you, My Lady, I will answer' replied Catalina, clearing her throat, as she kneeled down to be nearer Mary's height, 'Mary...my little Maria, I have some good news for you. Your father and I, have decided to marry,'

Little Mary looked at Catalina, her innocent face becoming perplexed with seriousness as she tried to take in the information, that her once sister would now be married to her father.

'You are going to marry father?' asked Mary, her face returning slightly to her more gentle features, 'but why? He's so old!'

'I think Henry would prefer the word experienced,' chuckled Thomas to himself, only to find that his stepmother's weighty glare was soon upon him, 'sorry mother,'

'Why?' repeated the Infanta, trying to answer the girl's question as best she could without causing upset, 'well, your father is a good man and I love him,'

It was a simple answer but it was true. She did love him, her pilgrimage to Walsingham had given her a chance to realise that and come to understand the workings of her heart. Love, duty and passion, she had realised on the long journey were the things which drove a person heart and soul. They were the things most needed for a heart to beat in time with God's pattern for this world and they were things God, this time had blessed her with. As she knelt before the shrine of Our Lady, Catalina had felt a light shine on her and she knew God was telling her, that her fears of being consumed by the fires of lusts where simply a test sent for her to unravel; and she had successful conquered them. Perhaps to the world it was difficult to understand. Maria, despite her softening, still did not understand, how she could love a man as controlling, rude and arrogant as the King, but to Catalina he was different. Henry understood the value of life and destiny-the things, which drove her too. Perhaps, they did not share the same strategy, but it lead them to the same path and pushed them both together.

'But you love Arthur,' Mary continued in her serious voice, 'and Father loves Mama,'

'Yes and we always will,' answered Catalina, hating herself for feeling a hint of jealousy, 'but God chose them to be with him, so your Father and I decided it was for the best, to share each others company,'

'So you can look after each other until you go to Heaven too?'

'Well, yes, Mary,' said the Infanta, deciding it best to agree with the young girl, still in shock over her mother's death.

'Do I have to call you, Mama?'

'Your Mama, will always be your Mama, Mary, not even God himself can alter that,' Catalina smiled, 'I can be Cat, if you still wish,'

Mary thought for a moment, her young mind working hard as she considered all the possibilities. Catalina watched her, preying silently, that the young girl, would accept her constant presence in her life.

'Mama is Mama, so I like you to be madre if you don't mind,' she finally said, with a beaming grin, 'so will I have more brothers and sisters to play with?'

'Hopefully,' replied Lady Margaret icily, interrupting the Infanta as she started to move her lips. Turning away from her family, she walked the extra few paces to where the grand, tall double doors stood. Without glancing back, she produced a key from her sleeve and placed it in the lock, twisting it until she heard the bolt move. To the world, Lady Margaret Beaufort looked such a small woman, with the strength of a sparrow, but at that moment, she swung open the heavy, stiff doors to the Queen's apartments without any trouble, 'welcome to your new home, Princess,'


'Once we get the shutters and windows open,' said Lady Margaret, issuing orders to the servants, who were rushing around, trying to make the until recently sealed apartments, more appealing to their new occupant, 'it will be a lot more welcoming,'

'Yes,' nodded Catalina, in agreement as she could already see as the servants started to throw back the shutters, letting in the light, how the decorative place was, 'it is very beautiful,'

'Mama always said the same,' chirped Mary, as she ran through the chamber, excited to be home.

'Now, we need to talk about practicalities,' Lady Margaret said as she came to stand by Catalina's side, 'now, we will need to decided on who will make up your household. Who will be employed in what capacity and which ones of your ladies will stay and which will return home to Spain,'

'Spain?'

'Of course. The Queen of England cannot be seen surrounding herself with foreign ladies,'

Catalina looked at her future mother-in-law and tried to keep her face neutral, but she knew her expression gave away, her horror at what she was suggesting. These ladies where her friends, (well, all except Elvira Manuel) and more than that, they were her last link with the land of her birth.

'I think,' said Catalina slowly, 'I should speak with his Highness. When is he arriving?'

'Unfortunately, the King, given the sensitivity of the situation, feels he should stay away for a while, it does not look good for appearances, especially as we are still without a dispensation. And...Mary, Mary, put that vase down!'

She watched as the older woman, chased after her granddaughter, and felt her stomach churn, as the ghost of Elizabeth hovered at her shoulder. Lady Margaret would have made a good politician, but Catalina could read between the lines-she knew why Henry had not come to greet her. Elizabeth, the former Queen, had been so kind, that Catalina hated herself for feeling even a hint of jealousy towards her. Perhaps, if things had been different with Arthur, she would feel the same as Henry and understand, that one did not accept so easily God's will. And perhaps, if the Queen had not been so kind and loving towards her, Catalina could easily make the transition, from Princess to Queen of England. She could take charge of these rooms and make them her own, instead of feeling, as she stared at the large bed, tapestries and carved chests, as though she was walking in dead woman's shoes.

'Your Highness,' whispered Thomas, coming over to Catalina's side, 'are you well? You have gone quite pale,'

'I am well, but it is just,' sighed Catalina, as she sat down in the window seat and turned to look out of the window, smiling briefly as she felt the warm sun on her face, 'it feels so cold. As though I am walking in another person path,'

With a smile, Thomas sat down beside his soon to be sister-in-law, glancing around the chamber, making sure his mother was nowhere in earshot. They had grown close on their journey to Walsingham, spending the evenings in conversation over dinner. He had enjoyed listening to her memories of Spain, in particular the stories of the wonder, which was the almost mythical city of Granada, whilst at the same time having to candidly answer the questions as to the reason why he had yet not taken any steps on the path to matrimony. Yet despite her awkward questions, Thomas found himself drawn to her and could clearly see, what attracted his brother to her. They both seemed almost certain of their destinies, yet if you looked closely, in their eyes you could see that behind those sure looks, lied something, which only those who shared their convictions could unlock.

'You of all people, Your Highness,' said Thomas, looking at her as he was certain they were not being listened to, 'understand that the notion of majesty carries on regardless of death and outlives us all, to be passed on the next generation,'

'I know,' replied Catalina softly, remembering one of the first lessons she had learnt at her mother's knee, 'but I never expected the harshness of this. The Queen was so kind to me and so considerate for my welfare, that it feels almost a betrayal me being here. Besides, how would it seem to the country, if the King cannot bring himself to visit the Queen's apartments?'

'You of all people are aware, that the King…Henry is not made of stone,' continued Thomas, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it, in a small gesture of reassurance, 'he has feelings, though he tries to deny it. You just need to give he him time…if not, just have a word with mother. She will then drag him here by the scruff of his collar,'

Catalina laughed lightly at Thomas' remark and for a moment her eyes seemed to brighten, as she though on the image, knowing it was probably closer to the truth than most people would believe.

'Besides,' said Thomas in a whisper as he gently pulled Catalina to her feet. Keeping an eye on his step-mother, who was busy ordering a poor serving girl around and his niece, who was now sat quietly in chair reading a book of Aesop's fables, he guided Catalina into the corridor, pulling her close to him, 'as much as I loved Elizabeth and may she rest in peace, I always believed...she did love and care for Henry deeply, but I was always under the impression, that she would have been that way regardless of whom she married. That there was nothing truly special about my brother, it just that he happened to be the man, they married her off too. I believe, and it is only rumours mind, that if she had been wedded to her uncle, she would have behaved and acted in exactly the same way,'

Catalina looked at Thomas, not sure what to make of his words. She had always thought their marriage to be so happy, well that's was the impression she got from seeing the King and Queen together on her wedding day to Arthur. But then, technically Elizabeth would not have been lying about her love, as it was a love and affection built for family, not for passion and for some reason this put Catalina fears, slightly at easy.

'Just promise, you will never repeat my words to Henry,' smiled Thomas, kissing Catalina's hand, 'for he will have me going the same way as Lord Hastings, if he knew. Though I do believe Elizabeth was good for him at that moment in his life, the way I believe that you are good for him now, because whereas as Elizabeth just smoothed his troubles, you understand them,'

Catalina smiled and leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek, before sitting down in the window seat and watching spring starting to appear over the English garden. It was strange, the way the English seasons changed, creating new life once the rains had subsided-perhaps, soon when the dispensation from the Holy See arrived, her life in this strange country would once again bloom.

'You care for him deeply, don't you' smiled Catalina warmly, 'for Henry, I mean,'

'He's my brother,' shrugged Thomas, sitting down beside her, 'of course, I care for him deeply,'

'But he is Lord Strange's brother also,' replied the soon to be Queen of England, who always felt unnerved by the way her future husband's oldest step-brother would grin at her, whenever they passed each other at court, 'and yet I get the feeling, that he would rather that your father had chosen another path,'

'George...Lord Strange cannot let go of the past,' said Thomas, sounding slightly distant, 'he seems to hunger for a glory, which he could not and should not possess. This country and its people have suffered so much because of a small group bickering over which one is more God anointed and its time for peace. People may grumble about Henry but he is a good King. He keep the country together, whereas those born in a closer light to the crown have caused nothing but divisions and war. Besides, I have never understood why people forsake the quiet life. Surely, dying in your bed, surrounded by those you love is a better end, than having it all ended on a muddy field, your bent and broken body being left to decay among a mountain of other dead,'

'You know, Thomas,' replied Catalina, taking hold of his hand and gently squeezing it, before letting go, 'I am glad you will be my brother and when you are my brother, you must let me find you a wife. You will make a wonderful head of a family,'

Thomas laughed nervously, running out of excuses to use when his new friend approached the subject of matrimony. That was another thing, which grew his attachment to his step-brother-for Henry never approached the subject.

'Uncle Thomas!' cried Princess Mary, running into the hall, her porcelain cheeks red with colour, 'Grandmother said you can take me to the stables and feed Aggie! Please, say you will take me! Aggie must have been so lonely since God called Mama to him. Please say you will take me, please,'

'Of course, I will Mary,' said Thomas, getting to his feet and kneeling down so he was level with his niece, 'and I tell you something, if you can beat your old uncle to the stables, I might even let us take her for a ride,'

Excitedly, the young Princess swirled, as she jumped up and down before picking up her skirts and running down the corridor. But as she reached the door, she suddenly stopped and ran back to where Thomas and Catalina were stood.

'Cat you must come to,' she chirped, grabbing hold of Catalina hand and starting to pull her towards the door, 'after all, Aggie will be your horse now, so you should come and meet her!'

'Of course, my little Maria,' laughed Catalina, happy that Mary, unlike her sister, was willing to accept her former sister-in-law as her new step-mother, 'it will...

'Her Highness, will join you later, Mary,' called Lady Margaret, appearing in the doorway, her small eyes examining Catalina, 'but at the moment I would like a quiet word with our future Queen,'


'I think we all made a few mistakes with your first marriage, do you not agree, Princess,' smiled Lady Margaret, as she sat down on the Queen of England-Catalina's bed, 'please, sit with me,'

Cautiously, Catalina joined the Queen Mother in perching on the edge of the large royal bed. She was never sure what to make of her future mother-in-law, when she started speaking to her in such a kind manner; perhaps she was simply trying to be nice to her future daughter...but then again, it could be one of her little traps.

'I am afraid, Lady Margaret,' replied Catalina slowly, 'that I fail to understand your meaning. It was simply God's will that Arthur died,'

'I know, Princess,' said Lady Margaret, her voice sounding slightly broken as she crossed herself in memory of her departed grandson, 'but I speak in terms of dates,'

'Dates?'

'Yes, dates,' continued Lady Margaret, a smile still on her thin lips as she ran a hand absently over the dark red blanket with patterns of gold flowers stitched on the expensive fabric, 'I have been wondering in the past month, why it was that a good, strong, healthy girl, such as yourself, failed to fall pregnant within six months of marriage,'

'You know why,' whispered Catalina, feeling slightly ashamed as she looked away from the Queen Mother, but knowing that whatever lapses of duty there had been in the past, they had been painful lessons to learn from, 'but it will be different this time,'

'My son is a full grown man, not a nervous boy, so I have no doubt that your wedding night will be sent in a very different manor this time around,' replied Lady Margaret, with not a hint of any emotion, as she got to her feet and started pacing the chamber, her small shoes, making no sound as she paced, 'do you know, Elizabeth fell pregnant on her wedding night?'

Shuffling uncomfortable on the bed, Catalina felt the weight of the former Queen, once again on her shoulders. Despite Thomas' words and the reassurances from Henry that he wished to marry her because she was nothing like his late wife, she knew that Lady Margaret would not be the only one drawing comparisons. She would be surrounded by ladies-in-waiting, who would whisper behind their hands, how their old mistress would never have behaved in such away as their new; and it was not just them. There was the rest of the court, the servants and the people, all wondering how Queen Katherine would fare in succeeding Queen Elizabeth.

'And a boy as well,' continued the Queen Mother, pausing for effect as she glanced briefly at the Princess, hoping that her worried looking face was taking in her words of "advice," 'now, are you courses regular?'

'Yes, but I...'

'Good. And they appear at the same time each month?'

'Yes, but I...'

'Good, good,' repeated Lady Margaret, as she continued in her pacing, 'now as a woman is at her most fertile in the days after her courses, I will arrange the wedding for then, once the dispensation has arrived,'

'You want to arrange my wedding day around my courses,' asked Catalina, looking at her future mother and trying not to flinch-after all, her parents had driven the Moors from Spain, surely she could face down one woman, 'but I will have a child this time, because things will...'

'Be different this time...so you keep saying, Princess, but we need to make certain that they will be,' stated Lady Margaret, with warmth once again in her voice as she rejoined Catalina on the bed, 'now I have spoken with your physician and he says that you are more than capable to bear a child,'

'You spoke to my physician!' exclaimed the Princess, not knowing why she was so surprised-after all, she had done the same when she had married Arthur.

'Of course, you are marrying my boy. It is a mother's right,' said Lady Margaret, forgetting, briefly, that her boy was not only a man, but the father of a family, 'and I know you want to make him happy; to make him proud of you,'

'He is proud of me,' returned Catalina, with an air of defiance, which would make Isabella proud, 'the King...Henry is very proud of me. He would not want me for his wife and Queen, if he did not feel so about me,'

Lady Margaret, much to Catalina's annoyance, let out a little and surprisingly playful laugh. Poor innocent girl, she thought, so naive, so believing that men were driven by their hearts and not by their groins.

'I will speak plainly, Princess,' she said, still with a little laugh, 'my son is still a man, regardless of the crown he wears on his head and he is also a man, who did not enjoy much of a childhood. He spent years fearing for his young life and when he found himself free of that fear, he found himself constrained by duty. But now that duty has gone and he can do as he pleases, in replacing that duty. And you are here, you are young and you are very pretty-of course, he was going to let his eye fall on you, (Lady Margaret failed to mention that this had always been her intention). I see the way he looks at you, when he thinks no one can see. His looks are of a man wondering what lies beneath your dress and not whats in your heart. I too see the looks you give him. Now, they are looks of love and devotion. Your looks are constant, whereas Henry's will one day fall, unless you can give him what he most desires...a nursery full of heirs, to make my...our life's work secure.

Composing a neutral expression, Catalina lied back on the pillows of her new bed and reflected that Y Ddraig Goch was not the only dragon to have ever resided in Wales.

'Now I think, I should leave you to think on the matter,' continued Lady Margaret, leaning forward and kissing Catalina on the cheek, before getting to her feet, 'now I better make sure Thomas has not let Mary ride off into the sunset,'


Despite wanting to join Mary and Thomas, Catalina continued to lay on the bed and stared at the canopy, which encased it. Deep in thought, she did not noticed the servants moving around her, unpacking trunks and placing the various items in to the old oak chests. Lady Margaret thought she left her to ponder on her words-but she was wrong. She knew the King did not just want to marry her because of the service she could do him between the sheets-after all, he had had the opportunity to have taken her several times, when they had been together, but he had not. In fact, he had never approached the subject and at night had not once tried to pull her to a bed chamber, but had let her retire alone with her ladies or with the Princess Mary.

No, what occupied Catalina's mind was Lady Margaret herself. The Queen Mother would soon occupy every corner of her life and she would have to share everything she loved and wanted with her. Catalina would not deny that she respected the lady, who had risked everything for her beloved son, as it had taken immense courage and faith in God to see it through. But what bothered her was Lady Margaret's possessive streak, as though she could not bear the thought of having to share her boy's heart and mind with someone else. Perhaps Elizabeth had been happy to sit in the background and be a simply wife and mother, but Catalina would not be and Henry knew this, it was the reason he wanted her as his wife and Queen-though she knew Lady Margaret was not going to stand by and let Catalina dominate. But did Catalina have the strength to fight her?

'Your Highness?'

'Mmm,' said Catalina distantly as she came out of her thoughts and saw Roland standing in the doorway, his clothes bearing the hallmark of travel, 'Roland, please come in,'

'The King has sent me to deliver these to you,' he replied solemnly, as he bowed, before approaching her and handing her the package.

'Trugarez, Roland' said Catalina as she took the package, 'Penaos eo ar bed ganit ?

'Dreist, trugarez dit,' answered Roland in a state of shock as the Spanish girl spoken in Breton, 'your pronunciation is very good, your Highness,'

'Thank you,' she smiled softly, 'Hen...the King taught me,'

Roland shuddered as he heard the warmth in her voice as she mentioned his father. Taking a step back, he watch from under his eyelids as the Infanta broke the seal of the letter and read it slowly, a small smile creeping on to her face as she did so. Roland guessed that she reread the letter about twice, before placing it on her lap and with a little click of the fasting on the box, she lifted the lid and he saw her eyes become brighter as she lifted out the jewelled item.

Edging in a tiny bit to be closer to where she sat, he watched as she held up the tiny brooch. It was a dragon, in the model of the emblem of Wales, but instead of it being decorated in the traditional red, the jewels encrusted on it's metal, were of the reds and golds of the Crown of Aragon.

With her beautiful face full of joy, Roland watched as the Princess, pinned the brooch on her dress, then let her finger tips gently run themselves over it. Gulping, he hastily looked away as he knew that this time tomorrow, the young woman's happiness would be at an end.