Six Wives (10 page)

    Here again the commissioners were highly innovative. It was already the practice at royal christenings that the baptism itself took place on a round, tiered stage with several steps. The massive silver font stood in the centre of the summit, which was reinforced to take its weight. The officiating priest and the godparents stood at this level too, with the assisting clergy on the lower steps – 'that the people may see the christening and press not too nigh'. The commissioners decided that Catherine would be married on a similar, if presumably larger, stage. And the stage was to be placed in the middle of the nave. At a stroke, the ceremony would be visible, as a piece of theatre-in-the-round, to the whole of the congregation.

    It remained only to get the wedding party from the west doors to the stage for exchange of vows and from the stage to the choir for the nuptial mass. At royal christenings the processions went at floor level, protected only by guards and footmen. But none ever took place in such a vast, uncontrollable space. The solution adopted had no precedent in English royal ceremony. It was decided to build an elevated walkway or bridge, with hand-rails and at head-height. The total length was well over five hundred feet. The walkway addressed the need both for visibility and for security; it was also a brilliant
coup de théâtre
, which gave the facility for spectacular processional movements, up and down the length of the nave, and all in full public view.

    Among the commissioners, in short, there was one with the imagination of a great theatrical impresario. He had the eyes and ears, as well. For no detail was too small. Where should the trumpeters be placed for the best effect? When should they play? How should the fanfares be co-ordinated with the ceremony? Where should the gorgeously vested extras (for the assisting clergy were frankly treated as such) be placed so as not to get in the way? What should the young couple do to milk the scene? All these questions were thought of and answered.

    The commissioners also dealt with the behind-the-scenes matters of logistics and accommodation. The King had only a single suitable City residence: Baynard's Castle (the other, the Tower, was too far away). But Baynard's Castle could lodge only the King and Queen and their immediate suites. Prince Arthur, the Spanish ambassadors and Catherine herself had all to be accommodated elsewhere, in buildings requisitioned and refurbished for the purpose. Then there were the horses, the servants, the uniforms and the thousand and one other little jobs that no one notices unless they are not done. These tasks, too, were remembered and assigned to specific, named individuals. Two commissioners were then assigned to progress-chase: 'not only to advertize every man that hath any charge to him to be ready to do their offices, but also to call upon them for the execution of the same'.
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    In only one area did the commissioners delegate.
Entrées
were traditionally the responsibility of the City authorities and the custom was followed again in 1501. But an unusually close eye was kept. The commissioners chose the route (a new one) and picked the six exact locations for the pageants; while the City committee in immediate charge was directed to be in touch 'from time to time with the King's commissioners touching preparation to be made for receiving of the Princess that by God's grace shall come out of Spain'. The pressure worked and the City set itself to organise the most coherent and stylish
entrée
in the history so far of English pageantry.
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    The King's servants had done their task well. As the moment for the ceremonies approached, Henry could be confident that neither Catherine nor his subjects had ever seen anything like it. It would be splendid and polished. But would there be room for the love which Isabella had craved for her daughter?

T
here was one thing, however, that not even Henry VII and his commissioners could control: the English weather. The original intention was that Catherine should make her
entrée
into London on Thursday, 11 November, 'if it be a fair day', or else on Friday the 12th. Predictably, bearing in mind the time of year, she had to wait the extra day.
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    Catherine set out from Lambeth by 10 o'clock, in fine array. The commissioner's plans had already encountered one national obstacle, in the form of the English weather; now they confronted another: Spanish pride. It had been taken for granted that Catherine would make her entry, English-fashion, in a litter. Instead she chose to emphasise her Spanishness by riding side-saddle on a great mule. She wore Spanish dress; her mule was saddled, harnessed and trapped Spanish-fashion; she even rode on the opposite side to the English practice, sitting on the animal's right.

    The cavalcade proceeded east along the south bank of the Thames, riding a little inland. There were few or no buildings. Instead, the way lay through open countryside, interspersed with orchards and gardens. At St George's Fields (by the present Imperial War Museum) she was met by her English escort. It included the flower of the social and political élite, led by the King's second son, Henry, Duke of York.
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    This was the first meeting of the pair whose lives were to remake English history. Henry was ten. Like Arthur, he was of above average height. Otherwise the brothers were very different in both appearance and character. Arthur took after his father and his father's Beaufort ancestry. He had a long face, a beaked nose and hooded eyes. Henry, however, resembled his mother, and still more his Yorkist grandfather, Edward IV. He had Edward's broad, flattish face, with auburn hair and a pale skin offset with small blue eyes, set rather close together, and a small rosebud mouth. He also inherited his grandfather's charm (especially to women), his animal vigour and high spirits. Arthur, on the other hand, was his father's son in character too: he was serious, dedicated and watchful. The contrast between the brothers had been heightened by their very different upbringings. Arthur, from infancy, was reared away from his parents in his own separate Household. There his tutors had dinned into him his destiny as King. Henry, however, was brought up with his mother and sisters and spoiled as only a boy in a predominantly female household can be. Arthur was 'safe'; Henry was a young rogue, clever and attractive if perhaps a little dangerous. Did Catherine wish at that moment that Henry rather than Arthur was her chosen husband? Probably not. Henry was too young. In any case, her destiny (in which she had been trained as ruthlessly as Arthur in his) was to marry the heir of England. Henry was only the spare.

* * *

    Directly in front of her was London Bridge, with its two gate-houses, the Chapel of St Thomas of Canterbury, and myriad houses and shops: tall, tight-packed and bursting over the structure of the bridge as every inch of valuable real estate was put to good use. On the opposite bank rose the City. Its buildings made an arc, as they followed one of the huge meanders of the Thames. The river was filled with shipping. Houses, warehouses and wharves were crowded together along the waterfront. The spires and towers of dozens of churches rose above the sharply pitched roofs. To the right stood the Tower, looking much as it does today. In the distance were the hills of Islington and Highgate. And looming over everything was Old St Paul's. The cathedral was vast – in bulk, in length and, above all, in the height of its 489-foot spire. This was Catherine's destination. Here she would be married.
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    But first there was the City and its welcome. Catherine was greeted by the City dignitaries: the Lord Mayor with his sword-bearer, the Recorder, the two Sheriffs and the twenty-four Aldermen, all in their robes. The officials then turned their horses round and preceded her on to London Bridge. There, in the middle of the Bridge, she encountered the first pageant of the series which the City had laid on for her entertainment and edification. The pageants were temporary, tower-like structures, built of wood and canvas and gaily painted and gilded with the King's arms, badges and beasts. On the upper floors were 'rooms' or stages with elaborately dressed figures and other devices. The figures addressed Catherine – resolutely – in English verse, of which of course she understood scarcely a word. To assist her and her party, there were painted captions in Latin. But these were very brief. Perhaps Henry told Catherine something of what was going on in his excellent French. He may even have tried out his Latin, which was also good, though naturally not yet as fluent as hers.

    The first pageant contained the figures of two saints. First St Catherine, complete with her wheel, explained to her namesake that the pageant series would show her how Virtue led to Honour. Then it was the turn of St Ursula, who told her that in this quest Arthur would be her helpmeet and companion. But thereafter things became complicated. For Arthur, according to Ursula, not only represented his namesake and ancestor, King Arthur, but also the star Arcturus and the constellation of Ursa Major. Arcturus is the brightest star in the northern hemisphere and Ursa Major the most recognisable constellation. They are allegorised in the
Book of Job
and the allegory in turn is elaborated into one of the setpieces of Christian cosmology by Gregory the Great. All this would be woven into Catherine's pageant-journey across London. Partly, it was a mere excuse to display some of the astrological imagery of which Henry VII was known to be fond. More importantly, it disguised the fact that Arthur of Camelot, the obvious pageant-theme for Catherine's future husband, was an unsuitable subject for an
epithalamium
or celebration of marriage. For Arthur was incestuous and childless, while his wife, Guinevere, was an adulteress, who cuckolded her husband with his favourite knight, Lancelot. Arcturus and his constellation threw a pleasing cloud of stardust over such unpleasantness.
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    Catherine's procession continued over the bridge and entered Gracechurch Street. The street, like the rest of Catherine's route, was lined with rails. The leading citizens, the liverymen of the City Companies or Guilds, stood inside the rails in their hoods and gowns, while the ordinary folk crowded behind the rails. They also hung out of windows and perched on rooftops and gutters. It was, the herald remarked, a sign of God's blessing on the marriage that no one fell or was crushed. Half way up Gracechurch Street, at its widest point, was the next pageant, which introduced Virtue herself. At the top of Gracechurch Street, by the corner of Leadenhall Market, Catherine turned left into Cornhill which in turn led to Cheapside.

    Cheapside was the principal thoroughfare of the City and its main shopping street. Even Venetian observers were impressed at the goods on sale in the goldsmiths' shops. Catherine, however, had to be content with the increasingly precious words of the pageant-figures. For the next three pageants developed the cosmological theme of the series. The first, in Cornhill, was the Pageant of the Moon. It featured the moving circuit of the Moon (a treadmill, turned by three panting boys in armour) and a performer impersonating Catherine's ancestor, the astronomer-king Alfonso of Aragon, who prognosticated Catherine's future bliss with Arthur. Next, at the beginning of Cheapside, was the Pageant of the Sun. Here, inside his orbit (another revolving treadmill), sat a figure representing Arcturus/Arthur in his embodiment of the Sun. He gravely welcomed Catherine as his bride. This section of the series culminated in the next pageant at the Standard, the elaborate conduit-structure in the widest part of Cheapside. This was the Pageant of the Temple of God. Here sat the godhead himself, surrounded by burning candles and singing angels. He addressed Catherine. 'Love me, and my Church, your spiritual mother,' he enjoined. 'For ye despising that one despise the other.'

    There stepped forward a second performer, dressed as a bishop. When he spoke to Catherine he had half an eye to another auditor, who watched and listened at the window of an adjacent merchant's house. It was the King. Henry VII had come 'somewhat privy and secretly', though his
incognito
was rather blown by the guards, who occupied every vantage point on the roof, and the crowd of hangers-on, who crammed both sides of the street below. The bishop's speech removed any remaining shreds of anonymity. He began by recalling the parable in St Matthew's Gospel, in which the Kingdom of Heaven is compared 'unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son'. Just as, he continued, Henry VII was doing for Arthur. Then, bishop-like indeed, he warmed unctuously to his theme. Could not 'Our Sovereign Lord the King . . . be resembled to the King celestial/As well as any Prince earthly now living?' he asked. Was he not 'Most Christian King, and most steadfast in the Faith'? By this point, even Catherine must have become aware that the actor playing God the Father was made up to look like the father-inlaw whom she had first seen when he burst into her chamber at Dogmersfield.
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    The recording herald was with the royal party or its hangers-on, since it is at this point in his narrative that he describes Catherine's procession – one by one and group by group, just as they came into his view. Like all good reporters, he was most struck by the odd and the peculiar. He noted how the Spanish and English ladies in Catherine's suite (because they sat on opposite sides of their steeds) rode back-toback. And he was particularly interested by Catherine's exotic dress and her 'little hat, fashioned like a cardinal's hat' with a 'lace of gold' to keep it on. The only personal feature he noticed was her hair, 'hanging down about her shoulders, which is fair auburn'. It was, we can safely assume, her best asset – in English eyes at least.

    At the end of Cheapside, by the Little Conduit, Catherine came to the final pageant. She had succeeded in reaching the goal of Honour, and Honour himself pointed out two empty thrones on either side of him: one for Arthur, the other for Catherine. The Mayor and Aldermen, having given Catherine many fair words, now made her more substantial gifts of plate and money. Turning south by the church of St Michael le Querne (or 'at Corn'), whose east end abutted the Little Conduit, she made a half circuit of St Paul's Churchyard, by Paternoster Row and Ave Maria Lane, and re-entered it from Ludgate Hill. This brought her to the open space before the west front, where the Archbishop of Canterbury, in cope and mitre, was waiting to greet her. She offered up gifts and prayers at the Shrine of St Erconwald, the seventh-century Bishop of London and builder of one of the first cathedrals on the site. Then she withdrew to the Bishop's Palace, which lay to the north-west of the churchyard. Here she would stay for her wedding and honeymoon.
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