Arthur

Chapter 9

Elizabeth of York – December 21st, 1501

In the end, it was not my choice and not my call. My husband’s mother decided the fate of my son and his wife. She commanded that they should be moved to Ludlow for Christmas, under the excuse that they needed to start learning how to rule, and that it was their obligation to please the Welsh. I knew the Welsh were curious about the new Princess, however they were used to spending Christmas on their own while the Prince was at court. In fact, they even preferred so, since many did not see the need of washing their hands before eating or using a napkin. In fact, I had seen many of them simply pulling out a fork from their boots and started eating right away.

I felt for poor Catalina; she was accustomed to cleanness and manners. I heard how the Spanish used to boil vegetables to eat, drink clean water instead of ale and wine, and wat fruits as well as and cooking meat with herbs. She had told me in private how much she missed to eat vegetables in a salad, and how she had requested it from the cook specifying how it should be prepared, and he had refused saying it was unhealthy to eat them.

“I do not understand it.” She had told me. “I always ate salad and never fell ill, not even once. I have a perfect health.”

The same day, I required salad on our menu. I saw Lady Margaret twisting her mouth, but she did not complain in public. I was happy to see my daughter-in-law eating happily for the first time. Ever since she had arrived in court, we had only seen her eating very little, biting her food at times, sipping her wine and not even touching some plates. I understood that it was intolerable for her, who had grown up being fed with the healthiest meals. I looked at her, for the first time eating all that was in her plate, and I smiled, regardless of what my husband and my mother-in-law thought.

I could feel the tension between Arthur and Catalina. They did not look at each other, or spoke at all. One day before their departure, I had advised Catalina to wear the sapphires I had given her and her new turquoise dress, hoping that my son would be dazzled by his young wife’s beauty. But instead of Arthur’s eyes, she seemed to have caught my oldest girl, Margaret’s envious look. I was shocked when I saw my twelve year old daughter staring at the Princess with such anger and envy that if she had my mother’s magical skills, poor Catalina would have slipped or fell ill.

“Do not stare at people like this, Margaret.” I asked her coldly.

My girl looked at me. “She has everything.”

“She is the Princess of Wales and the next Queen of England. She is the second lady of the court, only after me.”

“I am a Princess of England.”

“You are important as well, so I do not see why you should look at your new sister like this.”

She turned her head. “I will be the Queen of Scots. And she will be only a Princess. I will have good jewels and people will curtsy low to me, while she will have to wait until father is dead to be anointed with the holy oil. I will be closer to God than her.”

“Margaret!” I said, shocked. “Why so much envy and jealousy in your heart?”

She did not reply immediately. First, she played a bit with her food, and dropped her fork on a side. “And I dislike this green food. Only animals eat this.”

“That’s enough.” I said. “You will go to your room now and you will read the Bible, where James talks about jealousy and envy. I hope it brings some clarity to your mind and clears your heart.”

Annoyed, my daughter stood up, curtsied low to me and her father, then to her Grandmother who was too distracted speaking with the Duke of Norfolk to notice her. She looked at her brother and Catalina, and reluctantly curtsied to them as well before leaving. I promised myself to pay more attention to Margaret’s behavior. What kind of queen would she be if she kept being greedy and envious? Especially in Scotland?

The next day, my boy was ready to leave with his wife and their small court. My son Harry bid his brother farewell, and I could see how he was thrilled with the idea of being the only Prince in the court. I decided to also look after Harry’s behavior. He was a good boy, with a golden heart; however the sin of pride could cause him serious problems. My husband formally said goodbye to Catalina and Arthur, and gifted them with new horses to take to Wales. I knew Catalina would be smiling inside, for she had the best war horses from Spain, perfectly trained, while the English ones were not closely as good. But she politely thanked him with a soft smile, as she always did when someone gifted her in public.

Arthur was quiet, serious and pale. I felt a strange pressure on my chest. Approaching him, I put my hand on his shoulder.

“I tried to convince your father to let you stay until January.” I said.

“I know, Lady Mother.”

“I am sorry you have to leave so soon.”

“As I am.” He sighed.

I pulled him close to me in a hug; for some reason, I did not want to let him go. That was my boy, my precious son. We had never spent Christmas apart. And I felt this agony in my chest, this horrible pain that kept me from breathing properly. I wanted to cry, to scream, to forbid him to go away from me.

“I will be alright, Mother.” He whispered.

“May God bless you and keep you, my sweet boy…”

I kissed his forehead and he smiled at me. Catalina approached me and curtsied low. I took her hand kindly, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Take care of my boy, Catalina, I beg you.” I said, in a low voice.

“I will be a good wife, I promise.” She said.

The snow was a bit too heavy, and I noticed how my daughter-in-law found it unpleasant. The winters were not as hard in Spain as they were in England, and the trip would probably be very uncomfortable for her. Little snowflakes were hanging on her eyelashes, as she smiled at me and kissed my hands.

My husband Henry made a sign that they should go. Catalina was put in a carriage rather than in a horse. I knew it was Lady Margaret’s order, in hopes Catalina would be with child. But I knew that without the riding movement and the heat it caused, this trip would be really hard on the poor girl.

My son mounted his horse, adjusting his long furred coat. He took the saddle with his gloves hands, and smiled once again at me. “Farewell, Lady Mother. Farewell, Father. I shall see you all soon.”

Those were the last words he gave me before leaving. I felt there was something not right in them. But I watched as they went away, the snow falling down the road, blurring my view. I felt cold inside, a coldness that was not at all related to the weather. And I could swear on my father’s grave that, as I watched my son ride away from me, I could hear Melusina singing.