Catherine of Aragon (5 page)

7th May 1505

King Ferdinand has taken a new wife. She is Germaine of Foix – a French woman. The court is buzzing with indignation. One or two of the more thoughtful ones say it could be a clever move, designed to placate the French king and prevent him from attacking Spain, but most people simply think he is siding with Spain's enemy. That's what King Henry thinks, quite obviously. Thomas Fish was here again today, having come from Richmond with new supplies of linens and thread (thank God!), and he said Henry was raging, calling Ferdinand a turncoat and a traitor.

Catherine, too, is angry, but not with her father, whom she trusts absolutely. She is sure that the marriage with Germaine is a means to win a breathing space from the French threat, and she berates our Spanish courtiers for not believing this. I don't know where she gets her energy and determination from. I do my best to feel as she does, but the effort leaves me tired and filled with secret doubts.

19th May 1505

Roger Fellowes has been paying me a lot of attention, and Catherine says he is in love with me. I do hope not. He has ginger hair and very pale eyelashes, and he blushes whenever he sees me. He comes of a good family and is very polite, but his is not the shoulder I would ever bury my face on. I cannot take seriously a man who looks like a peeled shrimp.

27th June 1505

Our fears were well founded. Prince Harry has backed out of the marriage agreement, though rumour has it that he looks guilty and wretched, and he was talked into it by the King and his close adviser, a man called Thomas Wolsey. The excuse is that Harry was under legal age when he made the agreement, so it is not binding, but it's quite obvious that his father has decided to seek a better match for his son and heir than Catherine.

Harry will be fourteen tomorrow. In law he will be a man; and he looks a man, taller than most even now, and broad and strong. I had let myself dream that Catherine would marry him on this day, but all those hopes are ruined now. Harry himself has probably had no say in it. For the last year or more, his father has kept him tightly secluded, shut in a small room beyond the King's own chamber, and all the reports we have of the boy say he looks sulky and resentful, far from his old gaiety.

Catherine has said nothing about the new announcement. Her face is pale, but her mouth is firmly set and her fierce look deters anyone from mentioning it. This evening, as we struggled to find something edible on a couple of herrings that had been far too long out of the sea, she said to me quietly, “Harry and I
will
be married, Eva. But first the old king will have to die.” I suppose the words shocked me, for she smiled as she broke off a piece of bread and glanced round to make sure nobody else had heard. “Time is on my side,” she said. “You'll see.”

20th September 1505

The Spanish have abandoned the trade treaty my uncle brought about, and the effect is disastrous. Eight hundred merchants have just come back from Spain, complaining that they have been ruined by the extortionate prices asked by the Spaniards, and demanding that Henry do something about it. So Henry shouted at Uncle Rod, blaming him for the treaty's collapse. He could be heard all through the court, it is said, bellowing that De Puebla had betrayed him. So unfair.

22nd September 1505

In his fury with all things Spanish, the King has withdrawn Catherine's allowance, and she is in despair. How is she to run this house and feed all these people, no matter how meanly, on no money whatsoever? Durham House is a wretched place now, the linen soiled and torn and the stink of half-rotten fish and meat mingling with the general reek of sodden rushes and filth.

Doña Elvira goes round saying that King Ferdinand obviously knows nothing of our plight, otherwise he would do something about it. She blames poor Uncle Rod, whom she calls “that little rat” for having kept Ferdinand in the dark. My uncle protests that he is in constant contact with the Spanish king and has repeatedly told him of the situation, but Doña Elvira sweeps past him with her nose in the air. She is constantly cooing over Catherine and reminding her of how badly we are all treated, but she bullies everyone else. Poor Maria de Rochas has had to agree to marry Doña Elvira's stuck-up son, because her English admirer stopped admiring her when she became as poor and shabby as the rest of us.

23rd September 1505

Doña Elvira has suggested that Catherine should meet with her sister, Juana. The region of Calais in France still belongs to England, and they could meet there, she says, a convenient halfway point between London and the Netherlands. Once Juana understands how miserable her sister is, she will tell their father, and something will be done about it.

Catherine is very excited by the idea. I can see why – she is lonely here, and it's a long time since she saw her sister. And, to my sadness, she believes Doña Elvira's story that my uncle is not telling Ferdinand of her plight.

Doña Elvira says the meeting will be simple. Her brother, Don Juan Manuel, is the Spanish ambassador at the court of Emperor Maximilian, so he knows Philip well and will organize everything. The pair of them plan that King Henry himself will go with Catherine, and Philip will escort Juana – it will be a splendid meeting. Catherine agrees, and she has written a letter to Philip, putting the suggestion to him. And I told Uncle Rod.

29th September 1505

A reply from Philip has come back very quickly, and Catherine seems delighted.

30th September 1505

Heavens, what drama! My uncle was here this morning and, as we stood talking, Catherine came up with Philip's letter, as well as one she had just written to Henry, asking him if he will go with her to the meeting. Uncle Rod looked appalled, but he is always diplomatic. He suggested politely that Catherine should hand over both letters to him and let him do the negotiations – but Catherine would have none of that. Her chin was in the air in that obstinate way I know so well, and she told my uncle she was quite capable of managing her own affairs, and if he had anything to say about it, he had better speak to Doña Elvira. So off she went with the letters, leaving Uncle Rod to brave the dragon.

I caught him later, and he said Doña Elvira had promised to make sure the letter to the King was not sent. “Don't you see?” he said. “It will cause the final rift with Ferdinand if Henry goes off to a private meeting with Philip – a diplomatic disaster.” He didn't trust Doña Elvira, feeling pretty sure she would send the letter all the same. He went back to his lodgings because his landlady would have his supper ready, but he left his servant at Durham House, to watch what happened.

After that, the fun really started. The servant saw Doña Elvira give the letter to a man who rode off into the night, and rushed across to tell Uncle Rod, who came hobbling as fast as his gouty legs would carry him to tackle Catherine about it. I've never seen him so upset – he was actually in tears – but then, of course, he was looking at the ruin of all his careful work to keep good relations between England and Spain.

For once, Catherine listened. I watched her face darken as she heard how Doña Elvira had for years been sending court secrets to her brother, where they were fed straight to Philip and Maximilian. For all the flattering talk about King Ferdinand, she had in fact been working against him. She and her brother wanted to see Philip on the throne of Spain, and the proposed meeting of royal sisters was simply a way to bring Henry into personal contact with Philip, perhaps leading to a pact between them to launch a joint attack on Ferdinand. No wonder Uncle Rod was so upset!

It was too late to stop Catherine's letter from reaching the King, but my uncle explained to her that if the meeting went ahead, it might result in her father's exile or even his death.

He didn't have to explain any further. Catherine sat down at her desk and dipped a pen into the inkwell. “Tell me what I must write,” she said. And at Uncle Rod's dictation, she put down an apology for not having understood the situation, and begged the King's pardon for having suggested a meeting which he might have found embarrassing. Then she went to see Doña Elvira.

We all know Catherine has a temper, but I have never heard such an outburst of fury as the one which followed. She berated the duenna at a pitch that could be heard all over the house, and we listened in guilty delight to the goings-on. Whenever Doña Elvira tried to say anything, the torrent of words got faster and louder, until the dusty tapestries on the walls seemed to quiver with Catherine's rage. When Doña Elvira at last came out, her face was crimson and her mouth set like a trap. She met nobody's eye but went to her bedroom and slammed the door.

23rd October 1505

Doña Elvira left this morning, saying she needs to consult a doctor in the Netherlands about her eyes, though we have never heard her complain of poor sight. She has taken her husband, her son and the unfortunate Maria, and nobody expects to see them back.

6th November 1505

Everything is changing. After Doña Elvira left, Catherine went to King Henry and said she was now alone in running Durham House and she really must have some money.

It was a mistake. When Henry heard of the duenna's departure, he said Catherine could not possibly remain unchaperoned and in charge of such a big household. Fifty Spanish retainers was an unreasonable number anyway. Most of them could be sent home and Catherine could move into court with a small staff.

There was a huge argument about who should go back to Spain and who should stay, followed by a commotion of packing, and tomorrow those of us who remain will go to Richmond Palace for the winter. Somehow, I regret leaving Durham House, squalid though it has become. It has been our own place, and now we will have no proper home, only what rooms the English choose to give us in their various grand houses. Catherine does not complain – she says the move may be useful. I know what she means – she will be nearer to Prince Harry and to the centre of whatever is going on. But I am leaving Uncle Rod behind in his shabby lodgings, and I feel bereft.

13th January 1506

Great excitement has seized the court. Philip of the Netherlands and Juana, with an enormous entourage in a great fleet of ships, were caught in a storm while sailing to Spain to claim the throne from Ferdinand, and they have been blown ashore in England. They are at a place called Melcombe Regis in Dorset, amid the wreckage of their fleet. Several ships were sunk and the surviving ones are battered and broken. Philip sent a rider to London, to tell Henry of his plight, so a train of baggage-waggons and horses and carriages has been despatched for their rescue, and here we are in a ferment of preparation to receive the royal guests.

How ironic that the meeting which Doña Elvira failed to bring about has been achieved after all, by foul weather! My uncle is in constant consultation with the King, planning what advantage can be seized from this opportunity. Weather, he explained to me, is neutral. There is nothing clandestine about this meeting – it is pure chance, and nobody can accuse Henry of plotting. But the situation in Spain remains very delicate, with Ferdinand moving ever closer to an understanding with France. He has signed a treaty with Louis XII which, among other things, prevents Philip and Juana from setting foot on French soil, which is why they had to make their journey to Spain by sea. It may be, Uncle Rod says sadly, that Henry will have to seek Philip's friendship now rather than Ferdinand's – but he still hopes to prevent an all-out attack on Catherine's father.

Catherine herself is suddenly the centre of attention again. Since moving into Richmond we have been treated like poor relations, housed in mean little rooms and openly despised, but now, as Juana's sister, Catherine must be made presentable. We have been given some silk to make her a new gown, and a frenzy of cutting and stitching is going on.

29th January 1506

A second herald arrived from Philip this morning, to say the procession from Dorset is near London now, and should arrive tomorrow. To Catherine's disappointment, Juana is not with them – the near-shipwreck and the drowning of so many people has upset her so greatly that she is unfit to travel.

31st January 1506

They are here! There seemed no end to the pouring in of horses and carriages, nobles, attendants and soldiers – huge numbers of soldiers. Evidently Philip has every intention of routing Ferdinand by force if necessary. Lady Margaret, the King's mother, has made her preparations wonderfully well, and has coped with the great invasion smoothly. She has sent the soldiers off to Croydon, where they will be housed in the Archbishop of Canterbury's palace in far more comfort than they are used to.

Philip himself was ushered into the royal rooms that are hung with tapestries and cloth of gold, and he could not help being impressed when he saw the chamber where he is to sleep. He guessed correctly that it must be Henry's own room, the walls swathed in crimson velvet caught between embroidered bosses depicting the royal coat of arms, but Henry gave a casual shrug and said it was merely a guest room. Nobody smiled, though we all knew how much frantic stitching and decorating has gone on. The King has moved into the rather bleak emptiness of Queen Elizabeth's rooms, closed and unused since her death.

Now we are set for days of jousting and tournament and nights of revelry. Harry's little sister, Mary, is ten years old now, very grave and self-possessed, and she enchanted them all with her skilled playing of the lute. Catherine has taught her a lot, for she herself is a good lutenist. And Catherine is in her element, laughing and beautiful, gently flirting with the Lowland nobles while always retaining a royal dignity. We performed several Spanish dances this evening, and then she partnered Harry in a dance. The pair of them move with a grace and neatness that makes them seem one thing. Little has been seen of Henry or Philip, who have been closeted together almost incessantly. They seem to have taken a great liking to each other – and of course they have one important thing in common. They both hate the idea of losing power to Ferdinand.