Her great hope was that she would go home. They would make another match for her, of course, but at least for a while she would be with her mother. She did not want another match. She had realized how lucky she had been to come to Arthur who was so kind and whom she had grown to love during the short time they had been together.

The Queen had been kind to her, too. She had written to her and said she must not stay at Ludlow. There would be too many memories there and it would be better for her to take up her residence in an entirely new place.

“I am having the Palace of Croydon prepared for you,” wrote the Queen, “and my tailor John Cope is making a litter which will convey you to Croydon. It will be a most suitable vehicle of conveyance for it will be made of black velvet and black cloth and trimmed with black valances.”

It sounded funereal but of course she was in deep and bitter mourning.

The Queen was right; she did feel a little better in Croydon but as her grief for the loss of Arthur lifted a little, her apprehension regarding her own future increased.

At first few people came to Croydon. This was the period of her mourning; but one day she received a letter from the Queen at Richmond asking that she come to see her.

“I myself am somewhat indisposed,” wrote the Queen. “It is for this reason that I ask you to come to me.”

In her litter of black velvet Katharine set out from Croydon and when she arrived at Richmond was warmly embraced by the Queen.

“My dear dear child!” cried the Queen. “You look so sad. Let us mingle our tears. I believe he was as dear to you as he was to me.”

Katharine bowed her head and the Queen held the young girl in her arms.

“He loved you dearly,” went on the Queen. “I was so happy to see you together because it was clear to me that you would be just the wife he needed. He was so gentle . . . so modest . . . and that is rare in those of his rank.”

Katharine said: “He was all that I looked for in a husband.”

“And your union so brief. Oh, it is a cruel world we live in. But we have to go on whatever our sorrow. You have a happy future before you, my child.”

“I long to see my mother,” said Katharine. “My lady, can you tell me when I may expect to go to her?”

The Queen was silent. Then she took Katharine’s hands. “You love her dearly, I know.”

Katharine nodded silently.

“There will be another marriage for you.”

“Oh no . . . not, not yet . . . perhaps never.”

“You are the daughter of a great King and Queen, and there will be those to seek your hand. There will certainly be another marriage for you. You have had one marriage and are so young to be a widow. Forgive my asking this question, my dear, but was that a true marriage?

Katharine stared at her mother-in-law uncomprehendingly.

“Well,” the Queen stumbled on, “when two people marry, the Church tells us that one of the main reasons for doing so is for the procreation of children. Is there any hope that you . . . might be bearing Arthur’s child?”

“Oh no . . . no . . . ,” cried Katharine. “That would be impossible.”

“Impossible because you and Arthur . . . did not consummate the marriage?”

“It would be quite impossible,” said Katharine.

“I see. You were both so young . . . and he was not well . . . and the King had feared for his health and that was why he was against the consummation of the marriage. You understand that, Katharine?”

“I understand.”

“And so it is impossible for there to be a child of the marriage because it was not consummated.”

Katharine nodded.

“Thank you, my dear. I hope you do not want to leave us.”

“You have been so kind to me . . . in particular you, my lady.”

“My dear daughter, I want to go on being kind to you for as long as we both shall live.”

“I shall go back to Spain. I am sure my parents will send for me . . . soon.”

The Queen hesitated. She was taking a good deal on herself but she felt rebellious, which was rare with her. She was sorry for this young girl who had been sent to England away from her friends and now was being bartered so blatantly, passed from one brother to another for the sake of the thousands of crowns which made up her dowry.

She said: “The King and I have grown very fond of you since you have been among us.”

Katharine did not believe for one moment that the King had grown fond of her. It was hard to imagine his being fond of anyone.

“We should be very sorry to see you go,” went on the Queen. “And there is one other among us. No doubt you have noticed the warm regard of our son Henry.”

Alarm showed itself in Katharine’s eyes. She half guessed what was coming. Oh no. She could not bear it. She wanted to go home to her mother. She had been reconciled to Arthur because he was kind and gentle and life had been so much happier with him than she had dared hope it would be. But to be passed over to his brother . . . that young boy . . . She had been a little older than Arthur even. Oh, how desperately she wanted to go home.

“The King would give his consent to a match between you and our son Henry.”

“Henry is but a boy.”

“Boys grow up. He is old for his age. He could marry at sixteen . . . fifteen perhaps.”

“I do not think my parents would agree,” said Katharine.

“There could, of course, be no match without their agreement,” the Queen answered. She laid a hand on Katharine’s arm. “Say nothing of this. I told you because I thought you should know what is in the King’s mind.”

The two looked at each other for a few moments and then Elizabeth opened her arms and Katharine went to her. They stood for a few moments in a close embrace.

It was only a few days later when the King sent for her. He greeted her with a show of affection, which was rare with him, and it was obvious that he was very pleased about something.