March 1510 Greenwich Palace
Catalina de Aragon, Queen Consort of England, screamed as another wave of pain coursed through her body. Holding tightly to the arms of the birthing chair, she forced herself to push again. After a moment of intense contractions, her body relaxed and she fell into the chair in exhaustion. She had been pushing for several hours, and yet her baby didn't have to come.
"One more push, my lady," One of her favorite ladies in waiting, fifteen-year-old Lady Elizabeth Stafford, took a damp cloth and pressed it to Catalina's temple. "One more push and you will see your prince."
"Thank you, Lizzy," Catalina said, feeling the contractions intensify again, "My son is in no rush to enter this world."
"Stay confident, Your Grace. It's understandable, after all, this is your first birth. And it can be the hardest," said the midwife named Anne, raising her head and looking at Catalina. "Everything will be fine, my lady. Just a moment and the baby's head will be visible."
At this point, Catalina started pushing the baby with all her strength again. She began to reflexively tighten her grip on the rosary, screaming, mixing Spanish and English words.
"Just a little longer, Your Grace." Said the midwife."You can already see the head, it's going to be a beautiful baby."
Catalina, encouraged by the woman's words, started pushing the baby out again and after a while she felt the contractions suddenly stop. She was momentarily confused, but when she heard the baby cry, she regained her presence of mind.
"Congratulations, Your Grace" Anne said a few seconds later, holding Catalina's still wicked baby in her arms. "She is a very beautiful and healthy princess of England."
"Girl. A healthy and lively girl, but still a girl." Catalina thought. She wanted so much to give Henry a son. But when she looked at her daughter, her disappointment disappeared. The girl, with her delicate facial features, seemed to her an angel straight from heaven.
"I won't let anyone hurt you, my princess." She whispered, then kissed her daughter's forehead.
In the chapel at Greenwich Palace, Henry knelt on the cold marble floor and prayed alone before the altar. Since a messenger arrived a few hours ago with the news that Catalina was about to give birth, Henry had been hiding away from the courtiers.
Catalina was giving birth to his child. He was young, not even nineteen, so he wouldn't be disappointed if their firstborn turned out to be a girl. Catalina became pregnant almost immediately after the wedding, so Henry wasn't afraid that she would have fertility problems. If she got pregnant once, it would be easy next time too.
" Your Grace, a message has just arrived from the Queen's chambers. " He heard the voice of his best friend, Charles Brandon, behind him.
Henry crossed himself and rose from his knees, turning to Charles.
"Continue, my friend," said Henry. "Did everything go well?"
"Yes. The Queen endured the birth bravely, the baby is also healthy, but..." Then he lowered his head and sighed loudly. "A princess has been born."
"Oh, so everything went great then," Henry said, breathing a sigh of relief that his wife and child had survived the birth. "My daughter is a perfect sign that my marriage to Catalina is blessed."
"Yes, my lord." Charles replied, surprised by Henry's enthusiasm. "This is a very good sign from Our Lord."
In response, Henry just smiled and patted his friend on the back. "And now it's time to visit the queen and my daughter." He declared, then left the chapel.
" Catalina, my sweet wife. How do you feel?" Henry said, entering his wife's chambers and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I can't complain. I feel fine, but I definitely need a few weeks of rest." Catalina said, then suddenly looked sad. "Forgive me for not giving you a son. But I promise that next time there will be a Prince of Wales."
Henry stroked her face and laughed lightly. "Oh, Catalina. There's nothing to forgive here. We're young, and I think we'll have our son next year."
Catalina smiled. She felt such relief inside her body that her husband didn't blame her. He was right, they still had plenty of time to produce an heir to the throne.
"Our daughter deserves a name." She said as a maid appeared with the little princess in her arms and handed her to Henry.
"Elizabeth. Princess Elizabeth Tudor." Henry said, admiring his daughter. "Our firstborn child, and our rose. "
At that time, she felt the happiest in the world and hoped it would stay that way forever. But can queens be happy?
