Виктория Холт - Katharine, the Virgin Widow

There Katharine was served on gold plate which was studded with precious gems; but as she ate she was thinking with trepidation of the night which lay before her, and she knew that her bridegroom shared her fears. She felt that she wanted to hold back the night; she was so frightened that she longed for her mother, longed to hear that calm, serene voice telling her that there was nothing to fear.

The feasting went on for several hours. How the English enjoyed their food! How many dishes there were! What quantities of wine!

The King was watching them. Was he aware of their fear? Katharine was beginning to believe that there was little the King did not understand.

The Queen was smiling too. How kind she was—or would have been if she had been allowed to be. The Queen would always be what her husband wished, thought Katharine; and there might be times when he wished her to be cruel.

Katharine had heard of the ceremony of putting the bride to bed. In England it was riotous and ribald…even among royalty. It could never have been so for her mother, she was sure. But these people were not dignified Spaniards; they were the lusty English.

She turned to Arthur who was trying to smile at her reassuringly, but she was sure his teeth were chattering.

* * *
* * *
* * *

THE MOMENT HAD COME and they were in the bedchamber. There was the bed, and the curtains were drawn back, while it was being blessed; Katharine knew enough English now to recognize the word fruitful.

She dared not look at Arthur, but she guessed how he was feeling.

The room was illuminated by many candles and their light shone on the scarlet arras, on the silk bed curtains and the many faces of those who had crowded into the bedchamber.

The King came to them and, laying a hand on the shoulder of each, he drew them towards him.

He said: “You are very young. Your lives lie before you. You are not yet ready for marriage, but this ceremony shall be a symbol, and when you are of an age to consummate the marriage then shall it be consummated.”

Katharine saw the relief in Arthur’s face and she herself felt as though she wanted to weep for joy. She was no longer afraid; nor was Arthur.

They were led to the bed and the curtains were drawn while their attendants stripped them of their clothes; and when there was nothing to cover their white naked bodies and they knelt side by side, still they were not afraid.

They prayed that they might do their duty; they prayed as all married people were expected to pray on the night of their nuptials. But this was no ordinary wedding night because it was the King’s express command that they were too young to consummate the marriage.

A cup of warm, sweet wine was brought to them and they drank as commanded. Then an attendant came and wrapped their robes about them. The ceremony was over.

The people who had crowded into the bedchamber departed; the servants of Katharine and Arthur—Spanish and English—remained in the antechamber; the door of the nuptial chamber was locked, and the bride and bridegroom were together.

Arthur said to her: “There is nothing to fear.”

“I heard the King’s command,” she answered.

Then he kissed her brow, and said: “In time I shall be your husband in truth.”

“In time,” she answered.

Then she lay down in the marriage bed still wearing the robe which her attendant had wrapped about her. The bed was big. Arthur lay down beside her in his robe.

“I am so tired,” said Katharine. “There was so much noise.”

Arthur said: “I am often tired, Katharine.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Katharine.”

They were so exhausted by the ceremonies and their attendant fears that soon they slept; and in the morning the virgin bride and groom were ready to continue with their wedding celebrations.

ALL LONDON WAS EAGER TO CELEBRATE THE MARRIAGE OF the Prince of Wales and the Infanta; the King was wise enough to know that his people must have some gaiety in their lives, and that if he allowed them to celebrate the marriage of his son, they might for a time forget the heavy taxes with which they were burdened.

“Let them make merry,” he said to Empson. “A fountain of wine here and there will be enough to satisfy them. Let there be plenty of pageantry. The nobles will provide that.”

Henry was even ready to contribute a little himself, for he was very anxious that his subjects should express their loyalty to the new Tudor dynasty. There was nothing the people loved so much as a royal wedding; and as this was the wedding of the boy who was destined to become their King, it was the King’s wish that the celebrations should continue.

Katharine felt a little bewildered by them. Arthur was tired of them, but young Henry revelled in them. Margaret uneasily wondered when her marriage would be celebrated, and as for little Mary, she was delighted whenever she was allowed to witness the pageantry.

The greatest pageant of all was staged at Westminster, to which the royal family travelled by barge. After the night following the wedding day, Katharine had been sent to Baynard’s Castle where she had been placed under the strict surveillance of Doña Elvira. The King had made it clear to the duenna that the marriage was not yet to be consummated; and as Elvira considered her Infanta as yet too young for the consummation she was determined that the King’s wishes should be respected.

So, by barge, came the Infanta with her duenna and lovely maids of honor.

Katharine sometimes wished that her maids of honor were not so beautiful. It was true that she was always dazzlingly attired, and her gowns were more magnificent than those of the girls, but beauty such as that possessed by some of these girls did not need fine clothes to show it off.

The people lined the river banks to cheer her on her way to Westminster and as she smiled and acknowledged their cheers she temporarily forgot her longing for home.

Alighting from her barge she saw that before Westminster Hall a tiltyard had been prepared. On the south side of this a stage had been erected; this was luxuriously hung with cloth of gold; and about the open space other stages, far less magnificent had been set up for the spectators.

This, Katharine discovered, was the joust, the Englishman’s idea of the perfect entertainment. Here the nobility of England would gather to tilt against each other.

On this, the occasion of the most important wedding in England, the great houses were determined to outshine each other, and this they endeavored to do with such extravagance that, as the champions entered the arena, there were continual gasps of wonder and wild applause.

Katharine was led on to the stage amid the cheers of the people; and there she seated herself on cushions of cloth of gold. With her were the King, the Queen and all the royal family. But she herself occupied the place of honor.

She thought how pleased her parents would be if they could see her now.

Beside her sat Arthur, looking pale and tired; but perhaps that was because Henry was also there, radiant and full of health. He had seated himself on a stool at the bride’s feet and sat clasping his hands about his knees in a manner which was both childish and dignified.

Margaret, of whom Katharine felt a little in awe, was seated with her mother, but Katharine noticed how she kept her eyes on young Henry. Little Mary could not resist bouncing up and down in her seat now and then with excitement. No one restrained her, for her childish ways found such favor with the people.

The King was pleased. At such moments he felt at ease. Here he sat in royal panoply, his family all about him—two Princes and two Princesses to remind any nobles, who might have disloyal thoughts concerning his right to the throne, that he was building the foundations of his house with firmness.

“Look,” said Henry. “There’s my uncle Dorset coming in.”

Katharine looked and saw the Queen’s half-brother entering the arena beneath a pavilion of cloth of gold which was held over him by four riders as he came. He looked magnificent in his shining armor.

“And,” cried Henry, “there’s my uncle Courtenay. Why, what is that he is riding on? I do declare it is a dragon!”

He gazed up at Katharine, eager to see what effect such wondrous sights were having upon her. Her serenity irritated him mildly. “I’ll warrant you do not see such sights in Spain,” he challenged.

“In Spain,” said Arthur, “there is the great ceremony of La Corrida.”

“I’ll warrant,” boasted Henry, “that there are no ceremonies in Spain to compare with those in England.”

“It is well,” Arthur replied, “that Katharine does not understand you or she would not admire your manners.”

Henry said: “I wish she would learn English more quickly. There is much I would say to her.”

Katharine smiled at the boy, whose attention was now turned back to the arena, where Lord William Courtenay, who had married Queen Elizabeth’s sister, came lumbering in astride his dragon.

Katharine was being introduced to English pageantry; she thought it a little vulgar, a little simple, but she could not help but marvel at the care which had gone into the making of these symbols; and the delight which they inspired was infectious.

Now came the Earl of Essex whose pavilion was in the form of a mountain of green on which were rocks, trees, flowers and herbs; and on top of the mountain sat a beautiful young girl with her long hair loose about her.

The spectators applauded wildly, but many of the nobles present whispered that Essex was a fool thus to display his wealth before the King’s avaricious eyes. His “mountain” was clearly very costly indeed and the days when nobles flaunted their wealth so blatantly were no longer with them.

So Katharine sat back in her place of honor and watched the jousting. She listened to the cheers of the people as their favorites rode into the arena; and she found her attention fixed not so much on those whose skill with the lance gave such pleasure to the company, but on the two brothers—her husband and Henry.

Henry’s eyes were narrow with concentration; his cheeks were flushed. It was clear that he longed to be down there in the arena and emerge as the champion. As for Arthur, he seemed to shrink into his golden seat, closing his eyes now and then when disaster threatened one of the combatants. He knew that death could easily result from these jousts and he had never been able to accept such accidents with equanimity.

That day there were no serious casualties and he was glad that it was November so that the dusk fell early and it was necessary to leave the tiltyard for the hall of the Palace, where the banquet and further entertainments were awaiting them.

At the center of the table on an elevated dais the King took his place, and on his left were seated Katharine, the Queen and the King’s revered mother, the Countess of Richmond. On the King’s right hand sat Arthur. Margaret and Mary were next to their grandmother on the Queen’s side, and on the King’s side next to Arthur, in order of precedence, were the nobility of England.

The monumental pies with their golden pastry, the great joints, the dishes of flesh and fowl, were brought in with ceremony; the minstrels played and the feasting and drinking began.

But there must be pageantry, and in the space made ready before the banqueting table the dancing and spectacle began.

Katharine looked on at the ship, the castle and the mountain, which in their turn were wheeled into the hall to the cries of admiration of the guests. The ship, which came first, was manned by men dressed as sailors who called to each other in nautical terms as their brilliantly painted vehicle trundled round and round the hall. On the deck were two figures which were intended to represent Hope and Desire, and suddenly there appeared beside them a beautiful girl dressed in Spanish costume.

Henry called to Katharine from his place at table: “You see, this is all in your honor. You are the hope and desire of England.”

It was very flattering and Katharine, guessing what her young brother-in-law implied, graciously acknowledged the compliment with smiles which she hoped expressed her great pleasure and appreciation.

The mountain came next, and here again were allegorical figures all intended to pay homage to the new bride.