Big thank you to all my readers and for all my reviews. Also sorry to TudorGirl910489, I know I said yesterday that I would not have this chapter ready before I went on holiday, but I couldn't sleep last night, so managed to finish it.
Its a bit short and sweet this chapter, but I will made up for it with the next, where a certain wedding might take place ;)
This chapter is based around Isabella comments that a marriage between her daughter and Henry VII would be 'a very evil thing-one never before seen, the mere mention offends my ears.' Happy reading.
Gingerly, Roland tiptoed towards the stables, dreading what he might find there. The plan had been for the archer to hide amidst the hay in the loft, ready to catch his father as he went on his early morning ride around the Palace grounds. He had not slept all night, tossing and turning amid the knotted bed sheets, his mind plagued with images of Hell. Roland had known all along, that what he was helping with was against the natural laws of God-not that the King had any kind of father to him, but it was still an unholy act to kill an anointed King and one that if he did not live long enough to repent, would see Roland's immortal soul twisted over the burning coals for eternity.
'Help!' he heard a cry, which sounded like Dixon coming from the stables, 'help! Murder!'
Composing himself, Roland managed to suppress the nausea in his belly and the pounding in his head, before running to the stables. He had been practicing his look of shock as he met with the bloody scene all evening, but as he ran through the wood doors, he realised he had no need for pretending as what he met with in the Royal stables, almost caused his legs to give way.
'Help me!' shouted Dixon, who was bent over Charlie, blood oozing from his shoulder, which had a long, thin arrow protruding from it, 'I think he's dead!'
'He ain't dead,' groaned Charlie, trying to get to his feet, but only the pain stopped him and caused him to fall back, 'just in bloody agony! Now are you two bastards going to help me or just gulp at me like fishes!'
Shaking himself out of his shock, Roland bent down and with the aid of Dixon, helped Charlie, complete with the arrow still embedded in his shoulder, to his feet. Due to the blood lost, Charlie had become extremely week, meaning Dixon and Roland had to struggle with his heavy bulk alone as they made their way to the door.
'Where is the King?' Roland asked through gritted teeth, as he wished the assassin had mistakenly hit one of the lean stable boys, rather than bulky cook, Charlie.
'Ain't you heard,' replied Dixon in a strained voice, as he too was struggling under his heavy load, 'the Spanish ambassador arrived late last night. There was a shouting match...well it was pretty one sided really, as it was just His Royal Highness tearing strips off the poor bugger, then he stormed off at the crack of dawn this morning,'
'So he did not leave at the normal time?' asked Roland as naturally as he could without arising suspicion.
'Does it look like he did?' choked Charlie, hoping that today was not his last day on earth, 'if he had, he'd be the one with a bloody arrow sticking out of his shoulder! Lord knows he's the one who deceives it! Christ, thats the last time I offer to feed the horses!'
Henry could hear them, before he could see them. As he marched through Eltham's splendid gardens, which were starting to bloom as the summer drew nearer, he heard the sweet voice of his youngest daughter singing loudly amidst the trees, her young chirps gradually being joined by the exotic voice of his fiancée.
When that they came before the Queen,
They fell on their bended knee:
'A boon, a boon! our gracious queen,
What you sent so hastily.'
'Are you two friars of France?' she said,
'Which I suppose you be;
But if you are two English friars,
Then hanged you shall be.'
'We are two friars of France,' they said,
'As you suppose we be;
We have not been at any mass
Since we came from the sea.'
'The first vile thing that ere I did
I will to you unfold;
Earl Martial had my maidenhead,
Underneath this cloth of gold.'
Under any other circumstances, the sound of these two ladies singing, would have helped easy Henry's black mood and caused his heart to lift with joy, but the news of the previous evening had caused his mind to be possessed by such dark clouds, that even hearing their sweet voices could not lift it.
'Henry,' greeted Thomas with a smile, appearing at his brother's side, only he soon found it difficult to keep up with Henry's pace.
'Remember whose King, Thomas,' snapped Henry, without glance at his step-brother as he stormed through the garden, in the direction of the Infanta and the other ladies.
'Yes, Your Highness,' answered Thomas, his reply trying to hide the hurt he felt every time his brother would turn cold and pull rank over him, 'the Dowager Princess of Wales will be happy to see you,'
But Henry did not reply, continuing in his hurry pace to where the group of women where sat, the two Princess playing and singing as they were watched by the Queen Mother with her small, beady eyes.
It was Catalina, who noticed him first, though she coyly looked away as she saw him approach. With a smile, she turned her head and looked over at the small lake, counting the number of orange fishes, which she saw hover just below the calm surface. Thomas was right, she thought, touching the dragon brooch, which held the edging of her thin black cloak in place, he did come in time and much sooner than she expected.
'Father!' cried Mary, running away from Catalina and her grandmother to her father, not noticing his mood as she threw her arms around his waist, 'you staying for lunch? Madre and I are going riding later, will you come with us?'
'Madre?' asked Henry with a raised eyebrow, looking at his daughter, who returned the gaze in a look with caused Henry to see a version of Elizabeth flash before his eyes. For a moment, he felt his anger briefly subside and be replaced by a mournful grief-perhaps, the letter delivered by the Spanish Ambassador was a punishment for putting aside his widower's black for the arms of another, (younger) woman so quickly after his wife's death.
'Madre...mother,' said Catalina with a smile as she approached Henry and Mary, her blue eyes looking warmly into Henry's coal black, causing Henry to feel another flood of emotions. Watching as Mary let go of him and returned to Catalina, taking hold of her hand and resting her against her former sister, he felt anger and remorse, become substituted with sadness, as he realised what he could lose by the time the sunset, 'Mary...the Princess Mary has decided to, on our marriage, to call me Madre...Spanish for mother. If of course, we have Your Highness' permission,'
Henry watched as she swept herself down into a perfect curtsy, her body not once trembling as she fell into the ridged conformity of respect. As he had been in the days leading up to their first embrace, Henry found himself having to look away from her with a gulp in his throat as she dipped. But it was not simply the curves of her body, which Henry could see peaking through the opening of her cape, which caused his throat to become dry. No, it was the flash of her eyes, with which she looked up at him in a gaze that seemed to suggest both love and desire for him in one longing look.
'Well, Catalina is going to be my new mother,' chirped Mary, smiling first at Catalina then at her father, 'but Mama is Mama, so Cat is going to be my Madre,'
'Thomas, can you take Mary, please,' said Henry, trying to made his voice sound as calm and collected as he could, but it still came out as strained, alerting all around that things were not well with the King.
'Of course, Your Highness,' replied Thomas, taking hold of his niece's hand, knowing it best to get away from Henry as quickly as possible once the storm clouds had started to gather, 'come Mary, let us going and see if the kitchen has any sweetmeats for us,'
'Are you angry, Father?' asked Mary, concern now itched on her young features as her uncle started to lead her away from her father, grandmother, Catalina and some of her future stepmother's ladies.
'Not with you, sweetheart,' whispered Henry with a smile for his daughter, but his eyes looked away from her and on to the Infanta, who jumped slightly in fear that the anger was meant for her.
'No, no,' said Catalina, reading her mother's words to the Spanish Ambassador, 'there must be some mistake. My mother would never forsake my happiness,'
'Well, its seems she has, Princess,' replied Henry with his usual bluntness, though Lady Margaret noticed that he spoke with a surprising amount of warmth, 'she wants you to return to safety of Spain. Away from my groping arms and lusting eyes,'
'She does not say that,' whispered Catalina, flashing her eyes up at Henry, 'my mother is just worried about me. She wants what is best for her children,'
Catalina knew her words were true. Despite Isabella's formidable reputation, she was still a caring and loving mother, who wished her children to be happy in the path God had chosen for them. Yet, in the pit of her stomach, the youngest daughter of Europe's most admired Queen, felt despair at her mother's actions. Since she was old enough to understand, her mother had taught Catalina that she was born to rule the country of England, but now as the chance was almost in sight, her mother was taking her chance of happiness and destiny away from her.
'And I'm not what's best,' muttered Henry, kicking the dirty of the ground, in the same manner in which yesterday Harry had kicked his tennis racket, 'in fact, I offend her ears!'
'That's not what she means!' replied the Infanta, finding herself torn between being a daughter of Spain and a daughter of England, 'she just means, the notion of us marrying given are closeness of our relationship, but once the Pope...'
'And will she listen to him?' interrupted Lady Margaret, almost gliding as she came to stand by her son's side. Her beady eyes, shooting darts at the young woman, whose mother was not only blocking Lady Margaret plans, but was causing her darling boy much hurt, 'for does your mother not believe that God speaks to her personally?'
'And do you not believe same, My Lady?' returned Catalina, her tone pretty icily at Lady Margaret's slight on her mother's character, before she turned to Henry, reaching out for his hand, 'and believe me, Your Highness...Henry, when I say, I have never done or written anything to my mother, to have encouraged such views,'
Henry looked at her and saw in her crystal blues eyes that tears were starting to swell. It surprised him slightly to see her feeling the same hurt and distress as he. After all, she was still young-only eighteen years old- and possessing a beauty that would make even the most chased monk, reconsider his vocation. She would be a prize for any Prince in Christendom, who her parents could still marry her off to, from right under his noise; and he could not have that, not just because it would wound his pride, but his heart would crack and it seemed her would too.
'Shall we go for a walk?' he finally said after a while, taking hold of her hand. With a small smile, Catalina gave a nod of her head in agreement, as Henry tucked her hand under his arm. Calmly the two of them started to walk through the Palace grounds, but as Henry noticed Catalina's ladies-in-waiting following them, he started to feel his mood once again turn black, 'leave us!'
'I do think that wise, Your Highness,' answered Elvira Manuel, not flinching as she met the King's dark gaze, 'it is not the way things are done in Spain,'
'Tell me, Madam,' snapped back Henry, his mind still raging against this woman, who had caused him nothing but grief since she had arrived in his country and tried to block his way on his mission to see his bride...his daughter-in-law, 'since when was this country Spain?'
'I am merely stating a fact, Your Highness,' she replied coolly, still not showing any hint of emotion as the Queen Mother approached at her shoulder, 'and given the current situation, I think it wise that yourself and the Infanta make sure you are above reproach,'
Henry felt his blood start to boil, over being given instructions from a woman, who was no better than the fishwives, which hung around the market place, discuss their menfolk and attacking any poor maiden, who crossed their path, in a manner they though unsuitable. But to his surprise, it was Catalina who let her anger show.
'And what current situation are you speaking of?' cried Catalina, letting go of Henry's hand as she rushed towards her duenna with as much force as she had used the night when she had pushed herself into Henry's bedchamber, 'is it the situation that truly exists or it is the one which you created in your letters to my mother!'
As Henry and Elvira Manuel had exchanged words, Catalina's mind had been working. How could her mother have formed such low opinions from her daughter's letters to her, in which Catalina had spoken nothing but kind words. They had been nothing but words of reassurances, to ease her mother's troubled mind. Words that had spoken of the fulfilment of the destiny, the path her mother had laid for her when she was still a babe in arms and of her being more than happy in her plans to marry the King-in fact, more than once in her letters, Catalina had used the word 'love'.
'I have told your mother nothing but the truth,' said Elvira, with an arrogant air as she stared at the Princess, 'how since you have arrived on this Godforsaken mound of dirt, your behaviour has been nothing short of wanton! I know about your secrets embraces, which are probably more than a case of lips touching. Not to mention the happenings before your marriage!'
'Before my marriage!' echoed Catalina, trying to cool her temper into a manner, which would mirror her mother, only it was increasing difficult given the nature of her fight, 'you know the same as I, the same as all, what happened before and after my marriage and by the Virgin, there was nothing there of the nature of which you speak,'
'Is there not?' laughed the Duenna, supposedly Catalina's substitute Madre, 'do you not recall your first meeting with your beloved, (though I speak of the one living, not the poor boy in the ground), when he forced his way into your bedchamber! I saw the looks that passed between the two of you as you worn nothing but your nightgown!'
'You saw nothing, but only what your mind wants you to see!' replied Catalina, her voice cooler now, but maintaining a sharp edge, which seemed to raise a small smile on the stone face of Lady Margaret, 'only images, which will advance your standing in my poor mother's eyes,'
'Your mother trusts me completely,' smiled Elvira, trying to reach out and take the Princess' hand, 'which is why you should too and cease with all this nonsense. Let us return to Spain, where…'
'Where you can bask in a glory you do not deserve,' said Catalina, knocking away her hand and returning to Henry, who had also been watching her closely, 'well, I will write again to my mother and put her mind at rest. And if that is not enough, then I will write again and again, every hour of everyday if I have too and if that is not enough, I will travel to Granada myself! Anything to prove you are nothing but a liar and that I am a true daughter of Spain and of England,'
'And even if your mother does believe your words and you become Queen' continued the older lady, her smile altering into a taunting grin, 'do you think the people of this country will love you? For I can tell you, they will laugh at you in even the lowest tavern! Laughing and mocking to high Heaven, the incestuous Princess who now sits on the throne besides the Pretender!'
Henry went to speak, ready to roar at the woman, who had shown not only him disrespect, but also Catalina. He was about to shout that he would make sure that this woman would be forbidden to place a foot in any court in Christendom ever again, but before he had the chance to speak, his future Queen spoke the words for him.
'You think my mother a fool and me a simple girl, but you are much mistaken! My father see's through you and I will fight every inch of the way to make sure my mother will see you for what you are!' said Catalina, her voice full of strength and conviction as her anger drove her on, 'you know the truth of my marriage as does everyone of this country's people and they know that I will serve them with the grace and dignity, which they deserve. And I will be Queen, next to a King God chose to rule this land above all others!'
'But it is a long path from being the Dowager Princess of Wales to being Queen of England-anything could befall you and your beloved,'
'True,' replied Catalina, with her head tilted to the side as if she was briefly in thought, 'but as things currently stand, I still am and will be married to Henry Tudor. The Pope will grant us a dispensation and my mother will give me her blessing. Therefore, with his Highness' permission, I would like to issue my first command?'
She glanced over at Henry , who, chewing on his bottom lip, gave a nod of the head in approval.
'Thank you, Your Highness,' she smiled, before returning to her duenna, once again with a look of seriousness, 'Dona Elvira Manuel you are dismissed!'
'You! You foolish girl!' cried Elvira in such a high pitch that Thomas and Mary heard her from the kitchens, but it had no effect on her former charge, who continued on her walk with the King, 'you cannot do this?'
'I believe she just did,' said Lady Margaret, pouncing on the losing woman, 'and if you do not alter your statement, then get off our country as soon as God wills it, I will personally make sure you rot with the rats in the belly of the Tower. Now, I suggest you remove yourself, before I alert the guard,'
Elvira turned to the Queen Mother, her eyes still on fire, over her treatment on this island-did none of them not know who she was and how highly Isabella held her?
'Well, then I go!,' she snapped, picking up her skirts, 'and I will take all my ladies with me!'
'Your ladies,' cried Maria, coming forward with her hands on hips, 'we are not your ladies,'
'I think your find...'
'We are not your ladies,' continued Maria, who despite her earlier arguments, over her mistress marrying the King, would always stand by her Princess, regardless of the trouble surrounding her, 'we are Catalina de Aragon's ladies and wherever our mistress goes, we will follow!'
Elvira went to argue with the younger lady, but Maria meet her raging eyes, with an equal fierce determination. Instead, Elvira threw her head up in the air and stormed back towards the Palace, trying to hide her bitterness at being humiliated.
'You still want me as a wife?' asked Catalina, her commanding tone still in her voice as they walked further into the gardens, 'as your Queen?'
Henry laughed as they stopped by the edge of Eltham's ancient trees, letting go of Catalina's hand as he went to lean against the truck of one of the mighty oaks.
'Of course,' he grinned, 'but don't expect to ever win an argument against me,'
'Maybe,' Catalina replied, seeing it as more of a challenge than a statement, 'but never expect me to hold my tongue,'
'I wouldn't dream of it, Princess,' muttered Henry still with a smile as he placed his arms around her slim waist and pulled her against him. He had been impressed with her show of strength and determination, finding that, whilst it would have been a highly unattractive feature in Elizabeth, in Catalina it was very alluring.
He placed his mouth on top of her warm red lips and let them start to kiss him, before he slowly started to respond, teasing her as he sensed her frustration at his unhurried reply. Henry was older than her and not one given to notions of a romantic reunion after their separation, but he had missed her and had been almost mesmerised by her performance, so soon he was matching her passion.
'I thought you were rude and arrogant, when I first met you that night' said Catalina, as she pulled away, 'and I still think you to be those things,'
'Well, Princess,' replied Henry, his eyes falling on her lips briefly, before returning to her beautiful gaze, 'I thought you to be pleasing,'
'Pleasing?' repeated Catalina, wrinkling her nose at Henry's words, 'you found me please?,'
'You were younger,' shrugged Henry with a grin as he let go of her waist, as he found her surprising show of vanity amusing, 'I had no interest you, other than what you could provide though marriage to my son...'
As Henry spoke of Arthur, he suddenly found a lump appear in his throat and a chill run through his body. People thought him cold and perhaps he was, but despite his wanting to marry Catalina, he still mourned the loss of his oldest boy. For fifteen years he had been the light of Henry's life, only to die hundreds of miles away in the isolated Ludlow Castle, with his father not there to comfort him and the guilt of his abandonment, still stung in the King's heart.
'He was a clever boy,' Catalina whispered, placing a hand gently on Henry's face, 'he would have made a good King, but God decided that it was not meant to be. Nor were he and I meant to be,'
'And do you think your mother will believe that?'
'My mother always relies on the conviction of God,' continued Catalina, her voice once again returning to its regal manner, 'and once she sees that that woman has clouded her judgement, she will understand the pure truth and we will have our dispensation and I, her blessing,'
'Are you always so certain of things?' asked Henry, finding the pain in his heart soothed as he pulled her back to him, his thumbs stroking the sides of her waist, 'I am older, yet my nights are sometimes full of night terrors-something you will soon learn,'
'Soon,' Catalina blushed, but her body continued to lean in against his, 'and I have been thinking, planning our wedding. Given how long my message will take to reach Spain and then for my mother's to reach his Holiness. Also with consideration to the words spoken by your mother, we shall marry on 1st September,'
'The 1st September,' laughed Henry, his eyes falling once again on her lips, 'a day on, which history will be made,'
