It proved to be that he had, for there was no enthusiastic response brought back by my father’s ambassador. I learned from little scraps of gossip that my religion was a handicap. The King of England had had enough trouble through marrying a Catholic wife. He did not want his son to fall into the same trap.

That startled me. Our religion was of the utmost importance to us and I had always believed that anyone not of the Catholic faith was doomed.

I asked my mother about the King of England’s objection to our religion.

“Where do you hear such things?” she demanded.

I did not way to betray anyone, so I said vaguely: “Oh, it must have been something I heard someone say…”

“Who has been talking?”

“Oh…several…Not talking to me but to each other. I cannot remember who…but there was a good deal of talk about the proposed marriage.”

She was thoughtful for a moment, then she said: “The people of England have rejected the true faith. It happened a long time ago after Queen Mary died and Queen Elizabeth came to the throne. And after Elizabeth there came the Stuarts.”

“But if they are not of the true faith…”

“First,” she said, cutting me short, “we have to think of an alliance which would bring honour to you and to our country.”

“But…”

“My dear child, you are too young to concern yourself with such matters which can safely be left to your father and to me.”

“But if Prince Charles is a Protestant…a heretic…”

“The Prince of Wales must be brought up in the religion of the country he will one day rule.”

“Then how…?”

She smiled secretively and whispered: “Who knows? If he had the right wife…”

“But the King himself married a Catholic…and…”

Again I was interrupted. “How knowledgeable you have become! That pleases me. You must learn what is going on. King Charles of England married the daughter of the great King Henri of Navarre who became the fourth Henri of France. It was a match of great benefit to both France and England. King Henri was a Huguenot at one time and he became a Catholic. Sometimes these matters are necessary. Who knows what might happen?”

“Prince Charles’s mother did not make his father a Catholic.”

“Perhaps she was not clever enough. If the Prince married a good Catholic wife, who knows what influence she might have on him…”

“You mean, I might lead him to the Truth?”

“Hush, my child. You must not say such things. You must learn to keep such matters to yourself. What people in our position say is often repeated. We must be careful at all times…even little girls. It is different with humbler folk. We do not know what the future holds, but I believe that one day you are going to be Queen of England, and when you are, you will do your duty to God and your country.”

“Oh yes,” I said fervently, “I will.”

I had a mission now. Not only was I going to marry Prince Charles, but I was going to save his soul.

I set about discovering all I could about him. It was not much. I did hear that he was taller than most boys of his age; he was dark and somewhat swarthy, not handsome, but of great charm. He bore a strong resemblance to his maternal grandfather, the great Henri, who had been known in France as the Evergreen Gallant because he had loved so many women.

I was constantly thinking of Charles.

Even when the overtures of our ambassador came to nothing, and there was no more talk of a possible marriage, he remained in my mind.


* * *

MY MOTHER WAS DETERMINED that I should have the best education possible, and that it should be presided over by herself; and I was sent to the convent of her choosing.

The Mother Superior of the chosen one received me very graciously and I was soon absorbed in the rules of the establishment.

It was a change from life in royal palaces. Lessons and prayers took up the greater part of my time. My actions were regulated by the bells which summoned us to our duties throughout the day. I joined the nuns in meals and religious duties and longed to be like them; it was a quiet and peaceful life if one obeyed the rules, and as I was of a docile nature I fitted in with comparative ease.

I learned a great deal about the saints, their endurance, their unshakeable faith and the sacrifices they made for their religion. I prayed with especial fervor for those who sinned against the Church, for I was thinking of Charles who, for no fault of his own, was in danger of losing his soul; and even greater than my desire to be a saint was my longing to save him.

I grew to love the hushed and holy atmosphere of the convent. I never strayed from its walls, but took exercise in the gardens which were tended by the nuns and in which was produced most of the food on which we lived.

It was a life of peace lived in the service of God. There was little excitement but I realized it had compensations for those who shared it. The nuns seemed content and at peace with the world. They believed that they were doing their duty on Earth and that they would in due course go to glory in Heaven.

I was different. I had a duty to perform. I had to marry for the good of my country and save Charles from eternal damnation. I had to think beyond the convent. But in the meantime I could enjoy the serene life.

I had a new brother. My parents were delighted and there had been great celebrations when Pedro was born. Alfonso was then five years old.

During my years at the convent I paid periodical visits to the royal palaces when my mother would question me closely about convent life. She was satisfied with my progress and the strong religious feelings which were being inspired in me.

I discovered that my elder brother Alfonso gave some cause for anxiety. He was a wayward child, given to tantrums, and he was not very pleased with the arrival of a brother.

It was during my visits to the palace that I was able to learn something of what was going on in the world. I was very eager to hear what was happening in England, and grieved to discover that the situation had not improved there. This news, because of our friendship with England, caused disquiet throughout Portugal.

Donna Maria and Donna Elvira knew of my interest in England, although they believed that those plans for my marriage to the Prince of Wales had long been set aside. It was just another of those suggested marriages between royal houses which came to nothing. It was happening all the time.

Donna Maria said one day: “It would seem as though this is the end of the monarchy in England.”

“How can that be possible?” I cried.

“You have seen what can happen in your own country. Kings can be dethroned.”

“Unless there is a miracle…this seems possible,” said Donna Elvira.

“Then there must be a miracle,” I said. “Or Prince Charles will not be King.”

“I think his father will not be King for long,” said Donna Maria. “Oliver Cromwell is going to see to that.”

“I don’t believe it,” I said.

“You dream too much, my dear Catherine,” said Donna Maria gently. “It was only a suggestion all those years ago that you should marry into England. It came to nothing, as so many such suggestions before. There will be many offers for you, and some of them may again come to nothing. It is the way with these proposed marriages. They are never certain until the marriage ceremony has been performed.”

“This is different,” I insisted. “The English have always been friends of Portugal.”

“That does not mean that you will marry a king without a throne.”

“How can you know?”

“I know from what I hear.”

Donna Elvira and Donna Maria exchanged glances. Then Donna Maria said: There is no point in keeping it a secret. Soon everyone will be talking of it. The King is now a prisoner in the Isle of Wight and, having him in his keeping, it is hardly likely that Oliver Cromwell will let him go.”

“And what will happen?”

“There is talk that he may lose his head.”

“They dare not.”

“Catherine, you must face the truth. It is never wise to delude yourself that it does not exist because it is unpleasant to you. The King is defeated. He is a prisoner. The Royalist army is routed. The Parliament is supreme. They will dare.”

“And Charles…the Prince?”

“He has fought bravely.”

“Is he their prisoner?”

“Not yet.”

“What will they do to him?”

There was silence and another exchange of glances.

I knew that Donna Maria was deciding whether I should be told the truth or be kept in ignorance. Then she made up her mind that I must know the worst.

“The same thing as they do to his father,” she said.

“You mean…they will kill him?”

“They will think he is a threat,” said Donna Elvira.

“But I was going to…”

“It is in God’s hands,” said Donna Maria. “He is a brave young man. I have heard that he sent a blank paper to Cromwell — no, not entirely blank, because his signature was at the bottom of it. With it was a note saying that Cromwell could write his terms for saving the King’s life. The Prince’s signature meant he would accept them, whatever they were.”

“He has in truth done that?”

“I have heard it from several sources,” said Donna Elvira.

“I think we can vouch for its truth,” added Donna Maria.

“What could they ask of him?”

“Perhaps that he take his father’s place on the scaffold. They could ask anything.”

“And he would do this to save his father’s life? How noble he is! And yet he is a Protestant.”

Donna Maria smiled affectionately.

“It is God’s will,” she said.

I was sad thinking of him and what he must be suffering now. He was in danger…acute danger. He could lose his life and die a heretic because there was no one to save his soul.

I was in the palace when the news came. It was a shock to us all even though we had known the King was the prisoner of his enemies.

They had taken him to London where his trial had lasted seven days; and at the end of it they took him to the scaffold in front of Whitehall and cut off his head.

There was no longer a King of England.

That should have been the end of my hopes of marrying the Prince of Wales; but they persisted and I could not stop them. His image was as strong as ever. He was noble and brave; he had offered his life for his father’s. I believed that he would live forever in my mind.


* * *

I HAD LEFT THE CONVENT. I was eighteen years old and still unmarried. It was seven years since the English Parliament had murdered their King. The Prince had eluded them all those years; he was a wandering exile on the continent going from court to court, wherever he could find a friendly refuge. I often told myself that one day he would be successful and come back to rule the country of which he was undoubtedly King.

I was sure that my usually practical mother felt the same, for although there had been several offers for my hand her reception of them had been lukewarm.

This surprised my ladies, for I was no longer young. Most princesses were affianced at a very early age, as I should have been to Charles if our plans had gone as we hoped. I was not disturbed by the rejections, for the only bridegroom I wanted was living a nomadic life far from home.

He had found refuge in France, Holland and Jersey. His sister, the Princess of Orange, had been especially hospitable. I learned that he was liked by most and, in spite of his precarious position, he was far from being a tragic figure. He was said to be merry, amusing and witty and his company was sought, but that was poor compensation while his kingdom was in the hands of his enemies.

I had never forgotten him through the years and I had a strange feeling that it was right for me to wait and that one day some miracle would happen and all would be well.

I remember my father paying one of his rare visits to the palace.

I was shocked when I saw him: he had aged so much. He seemed fatigued but happy to have this respite with his family. I was gratified that he sought my company.

My mother was deeply immersed in state affairs, for she had taken over many duties which would have been my father’s if he had not been away fighting. My brother Alfonso was a not very serious thirteen, and of little help. I believed his nature was causing my parents some concern. Pedro, of course, was very young. Perhaps that was why my father turned to me.