Katharine, The Virgin Widow - Plaidy Jean (книга регистрации .txt) 📗
“I thought that, so soon after her bereavement…”
The King looked surprised. It was rarely that the Queen sought to question his orders.
“This is a most unsatisfactory state of affairs,” he said. “Our son dead within a few months of his marriage, and that marriage never consummated—or at least so we believe.”
“You have reason to suspect that it was consummated?” asked the Queen sharply.
The King shrugged his shoulders. “I ordered that it should not be, but they went to Wales together—two young people, not displeased with each other. It would not have been impossible for them to be together…alone.”
“If this happened,” said the Queen excitedly, “if Katharine should be with child…”
“Then she would be carrying the heir to the throne. Our son Henry would not be pleased, I’ll swear.”
“Henry! He is so like my father sometimes that I do not know whether to rejoice or tremble.”
“I thank God we have our son Henry, but I am not an old man myself, and I should have some years left to me…enough that Henry may be of age before his turn comes to take the throne. But, as you say, what if Katharine should be carrying a child? It is possible, although I doubt Arthur would have gone against my expressed wish. If only he had lived a few months longer. You may be sure there will be difficulty with those Spaniards.”
“They will be more inclined to meet your demands if we treat their daughter well.”
“I shall treat her as her dignity warrants. She shall stay with you at Richmond for a day or so; until she has had time to overcome her grief. Then she shall take up residence in the house opposite Twickenham Church. She shall live there with her own suite. Remember, she has no claim on us now and it would be as well that she shall not be at Court until we have negotiated with her parents as to what is to become of her.”
The Queen bowed her head. It was no use pleading with her husband. She would not be able to comfort the young girl, to treat her as she would a sorrowing daughter. The King would have the Sovereigns of Spain know that the death of the Prince of Wales had put their daughter in a precarious position.
* * *
KATHARINE WAS SORRY that she could not stay with the Court at Richmond, but she believed this to be only a waiting period, for she was certain that, as soon as her parents heard the news, they would give orders that she return to Spain. But it would take a little time for the message to reach Spain and for the Sovereigns’ orders to be sent to England.
It would have been pleasant to have had the company of Henry and Margaret. Margaret herself was in need of comfort, for she was soon to depart to Scotland as a bride.
But this could not be and, after a brief stay at Richmond, Katharine and her household were removed to a turreted house with the church opposite, and Dona Elvira took charge of all household arrangements.
It was soon decided that the palace of the Bishop of Durham, which was situated on the Strand, would be a more suitable dwelling for the Infanta; and so to Durham House she went.
Elvira was delighted with this seclusion because it meant that, removed from the Court as they were, she was in charge of the entire household. Her husband, Don Pedro Manrique, and her son, Don Inigo, held high posts in Katharine’s household and Elvira was ambitious for them. She had determined that Maria de Rojas should be betrothed to Inigo; she believed that Maria’s dowry would be a large one.
Elvira often thought of her brother, Don Juan Manuel, whose service to the Sovereigns should not go unrewarded. Isabella, she knew, thought highly of him and he should have had more honors than he had so far received. Elvira guessed that it was Ferdinand who barred his way to success, for Ferdinand was constantly seeking favors for his illegitimate children and, although the Queen insisted on having her way, Ferdinand was full of cunning and often scored in spite of his wife.
If there were no King Ferdinand, Elvira often thought, Juan would receive his dues.
She wished sometimes that she were in Spain; she felt sure that she would have been able to expedite Juan’s rise to favor in the same efficient way in which she was able to look after Inigo’s in London.
But for the moment she was contented. The Infanta had reverted to her care, and as she was now a widow in a difficult situation, she relied on Elvira. Isabella would soon be sending instructions, and those instructions would come to Elvira.
So life in Durham House took on the pattern of that of a Spanish Alcazar. The English tongue was rarely heard; the English nobles who had held places in the entourage of the Prince and Princess of Wales disappeared, and their places were taken by Spaniards. Don Pedro Manrique was once more the first Chamberlain; Don Juan de Cuero was treasurer; Alessandro Geraldini remained the Infanta’s confessor; and Don Inigo was at the head of her pages. Elvira ruled the household; but that did not mean that the animosity, which she had engendered in the heart and mind of Geraldini, was abated. Rather it had intensified.
Puebla remembered insults which the duenna did not cease to heap upon him.
Ayala watched mischievously, fearing that soon he might be recalled to Spain and so miss the fun which, he felt sure, must be lurking in such a delicate situation.
* * *
AS THE PARTY RODE towards Richmond, people stopped to stare at it.
“Spaniards!” they whispered. They knew, for they had seen Spaniards in plenty since the Infanta had come to England.
Something was afoot. Perhaps the gentleman who rode at the head of that party of foreigners had come to take the widowed Infanta back to Spain.
The party was riding towards the Palace where the King was in residence.
Hernan Duque de Estrada was thoughtful; he did not notice the attention he and his party attracted. He had a difficult task before him, which he did not relish; and it was going to be made doubly difficult because of his imperfect knowledge of the English language.
Beside him rode Dr. de Puebla—a man whom he could not like. How was it possible for an Asturian nobleman to have a fondness for a marrano! The fellow might be clever—it was clear that the Sovereigns thought so—but his appearance and his manners were enough to make a Spanish nobleman shudder.
Ayala was of a different kind. A nobleman to his fingertips, but lightminded. Hernan Duque was not very happy with his two colleagues.
“There lies the Palace of Richmond,” said Ayala, and Hernan Duque saw the line of buildings, the projecting towers, the far from symmetrical turrets. He, who had come hot-foot from the Alhambra, was not impressed by the architecture of the country, and he forgot momentarily that the beautiful building with which he was comparing this Palace was a masterpiece of Arabic, not Spanish, architecture.
“The King is often at Richmond,” Ayala explained. “He has a feeling for the place. It may well be that he likes to be near the river, for Greenwich is another favorite residence.”
Puebla put in: “And so we are to obey you without question.”
“The express orders of the Sovereigns,” Hernan Duque replied.
“It seems strange,” grumbled Puebla. “We, who have been here so long, understand the situation so much better than anyone in Spain possibly could.”
“I have their Highnesses’ instructions. It would go ill with you if you did not do all in your power to help me carry them out.”
Puebla tossed his head. “I do not envy you your task. You will find the Tudor is not an easy man with whom to drive a bargain.”
“It is so unfortunate that the death of the Prince occurred at this time.”
“What is your first move?” Ayala asked.
Hernan Duque looked over his shoulder.
“Let us ride on ahead,” said Ayala. “It is better to be absolutely sure. Although it is doubtless safe enough to talk. The English cannot learn the languages of others. Their secret belief is that all who do not speak English are barbarians and that foreigners deserve the name in any case.”
