Winter On The Weekend

'When you see her sweet smile baby, don't think of me
When she lays in your warm arms, don't think of me'

-Don't Think Of Me by Dido

2nd April 1502, Ludlow Castle, Shropshire

Her eyes stung, the salty tears irritating them. Her throat burnt with the sobs she held in. Her lips moved swiftly, the Latin flowing easily.

She was in pain, her knees screaming out after so long in the same position, on the cold hard stone slabs. Her pretty blue eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, no doubt sore and heavy with tiredness, but trained determinedly on the large statue of Mary, mother of Jesus.

"Please, I beg of you, Holy Mother, to extend your heavenly protection to your faithful servants here on earth. Please help my husband".

Catalina's hands worried the worn wooden rosary as coughs racked her body.

"Infanta, please, you are still sick. It has been too long here, too bad for you" pleaded her lady, Maria de Salinas, her arms wrapping a heavy silk blanket around her mistress. She gently splayed her hands against Catalina's forehead, anxiously testing her temperature.

"Infanta, too warm", Maria's face was ashen with distress, eyes searching her mistress' tired face. Cautiously she brought her hands to Catalina's and entwined her fingers with that of her mistress'. Gently she began to pull Catalina up.

"Non, I must continue praying for my husband" Catalina bit at her lady in sharp Castilian. Why couldn't Maria understand? What was once a marriage of politics had blossomed into love. They had shared so much, planning their England together.

She had told him of the beauty of Alhambra, the place where she had grown up. She told him of the way the tiles had glimmered in the hot Spanish sun. She had told him of her sisters, the crusades against the Moors and her saintly mother. In turn, Arthur had shared his knowledge on England. He told her of the dastardly deformed pretender, Richard, who was so evil that he had murdered his own nephews and enslaved his nieces. He told her of his grandmother's plotting and how his father had won his crown on the battlefield and married Old King Edward IV's beautiful eldest daughter. He had spoken at great length about his siblings: the pretty and proud Princess Margaret, the sunny but spoilt Prince Henry and sweet infant Mary. He had shared with her his dreams of a new Camelot with her as his Queen 'Catherine' by his side. But there was so much more that Catalina wanted to know, so many more times that she wished to learn him.

"Infanta, their Royal Graces are here...Shall I inform them that you are not well enough to see them?". Dona Elvira, Catalina's duenna, interrupted her thoughts.

Catalina's head lifted, "No, I will greet them in the Great Hall".

Disclaimer - I do not own Showtime's The Tudors nor do I own Britain's vast history.

This is not a new chapter, it is simply a re-written version of the previous one. Sorry to disappoint. I'm hoping to post a new chapter by Friday but that is depending on whether my internet is installed by then (as you know I have moved into a new house).

Notes - 1) I use the term 'Your Grace' in reference to the King and Queen. This is due to the fact that it was Henry VIII who began to use the phrase 'Your Majesty'.

2) I am not Catholic, so I do apologise if my writing of Catholicism is incorrect. I am MORE than happy to edit this chapter to make it correct.

3) Again, the chapter is short. I find it easier to write short quick chapters as that's all I have time for.