Read The Jenny Wilson Show (featuring Henry VIII and his six wives) Online

Authors: Louise Birkett

Tags: #henry viii, #katherine parr, #anne of cleves, #catherine howard, #jane seymour, #catherine of aragon, #anne boleyn, #tudors

The Jenny Wilson Show (featuring Henry VIII and his six wives) (4 page)

“It’s being called Catalina,” she explained, as she sat down again. “It takes me back to my childhood in Spain and when I first came to England.”

“Forget Spain,” said Ruth, “what she did there has no bearing on her marriage to Henry.”

Personally, I thought her mother’s example had quite a lot to do with the stand she took when faced with her marriage being annulled but I accepted Ruth’s intervention.

“Tell us about coming to England,” I invited.

“We were living in Andalusia at the time, at the Alhambra Palace in Granada.”

“Oh!” I said, startled.

She looked at me quizzically.

“I’ve been there,” I explained. “I remember the royal apartments and the water gardens.”

“And the views over the Sierra Nevada.”

We smiled, nearly five hundred years separated us and yet we had found something of a shared memory. Result.

“Get on with it,” said Julian.

I nodded at Catherine to continue.

“I was supposed to take ship for England in June,” she recalled. “But the heat meant we could only move in slow stages. It was ironic, I had said goodbye to my parents and travelled without them and their court so we could move quickly and yet our progress was still so slow. In some ways I did not mind, I knew I would never return to my homeland, never see the wide open plains stretching as far as the eye can see, feel the dry heat shimmer off the rocks around me, smell the orange groves…”

She sighed slightly before continuing. “It was August by the time we embarked, the English fleet had been waiting for me for months. Some people are lucky sailors: I was not,” she said dryly. “The ships were beaten back by storms and we barely made it to land. It was September before we had calm enough weather to leave Spain but there were storms off the coast of France and so when we did arrive in England we arrived in Plymouth and not Southampton. Perhaps the journey prophesised the storms to come but at the time I was just glad to make land.”

“I’m not surprised,” Henry said.

She ignored him. “I spoke no English but there were traders in Plymouth who spoke some Spanish and I was learned in Latin, so I was able to speak to the clergymen. And I also had learned some French from my sister-in-law Margaret of Austria, which English noblemen spoke. So, even though I did not speak English, I was able to manage.”

“You were well educated then, except in English?” I asked.

“I had read many classical moralists and historians and Christian authors in Latin, could read and write Spanish, obviously I was educated in the Christian faith. I was also taught to sew and to dance.”

“But you were not taught poetry or English,” Henry interrupted.

“No, but I did eventually learn English and shouldn’t a queen preside over a court rather than participate in it?”

“Margaret of Austria wrote poetry and she most definitely presided over her court.” He paused before adding, “The fact is, madam, your parents did not equip you to be a queen in a court that aspired to all the conventions of chivalry.”

“But at least I knew how to behave royally in every situation!” she countered.

“Sounds like she’s prepared to give as good as she gets,” said Ruth. “This could get interesting.”

“Anyway,” said Catherine, ignoring the sulky expression on Henry’s face. “Our journey took us through Somerset and Dorset and then into Hampshire and it was there that I met the king and my husband for the first time.”

“My father and my brother Arthur,” Henry confirmed.

“Arthur was always sickly wasn’t he?” I asked.

They both looked surprised.

“Not until just before he died,” said Catherine.

“Not when I saw him,” said Henry.

At my surprised look Henry explained, “As the second son I was brought up with my sisters. Arthur had his own establishment from a very young age. I only ever saw him at great festivals or when my father wanted to display his whole family together. As he was from the Lancastrian house and my mother the senior member of the House of York it was important to show that in us, his children, were the prime claims to the throne from both houses. It didn’t stop pretenders to the throne but they claimed to be from the Plantagenets: the past, not the future. We were the future. My father understood the value of family and sons too.”

And Henry did not have a safe and secure an upbringing as we might have supposed, I thought.

“Are you implying my parents didn’t understand the value of family?” asked Catherine. “My mother took us everywhere with her: I was brought up at the centre of power not hidden away in a nursery miles from the court.”

“It was for our health’s sake.”

“Didn’t do us much harm but then England was more backward than Spain.”

Henry muttered something to himself but didn’t reply aloud.

“The meeting was not planned,” continued Catherine, trying to hide her smile. “We were supposed to meet in London so my duenna and ladies in waiting were scandalised. I had sent a message saying that my father had instructed that I was to have no contact with my future husband’s family until the marriage was solemnised. The king ignored my message and brought Arthur to meet me. To prevent the king bursting into my chamber I had to summon minstrels so my ladies and I could dance.” She smiled at the memory.

“Just so, quite right too. In England things are as the King of England requires not how some foreign monarch wants things done,” said Henry. “You see the point about having a son to be king instead of a daughter who hands England to her husband.”

“So did you all travel back together?” I asked.

“No. The king and Arthur went back to Richmond. I continued on my way to London and my official reception. It was important to show me off to the people.”

“Whose love you never lost, damn their loyal souls,” muttered Henry. “That was to put us in great danger later.”

“Going back,” I said. “When did you meet? At the wedding?”

“No,” said Henry. “We met for the first time when I headed the English delegation that met Catalina on her way into London.”

“At St George’s Fields,” she smiled, “I’ve never forgotten it. It was the day before my wedding and you were ten and determined to show off. It made me laugh amid my fears – my next meeting was with the queen, my mother-in-law.”

“Not like you to be afraid, besides she was determined to like you,” said Henry.

Catherine continued, “She was a good woman as well as queen. If I could not be with my own mother then Elizabeth of York was the next best thing. There were pageants throughout the streets and, to show me off to as many people as possible during my wedding, a platform five feet off the ground was built from the west doors to a stage in the middle of the nave. My mother had been anxious that the celebrations should be moderate and that I should not be the cause of any loss to England but I was there to be displayed so her wishes were ignored. My mother, of course, spent her money on her armies.”

“As I said, in England things are as the English king requires,” said Henry. “We were all there to be displayed. Catalina’s marriage to my brother was there to prove the Tudors had established themselves and were recognised by the most powerful rulers of the day and give the message that there was little point in opposing us. I was required to escort Catalina down the walkway so all could see her. And there was the bedding.”

“Which would be the cause of so much argument in the future,” I said.

Henry, and his two wives all nodded.

“Move it on, Alice,” said Ruth in my ear. “Let’s get to that when Anne comes in.”

“We’ll leave future arguments for now,” I said, fighting the urge to nod at Ruth. “What happened next?”

Catherine shrugged. “In Spain everything is done ‘just so’ and a queen has a large household but in England certain functions are shared between the king’s household and the queen’s. This was not explained properly to my parents and I think they would not have grasped the differences anyway. It took me many years, after all.” She gave another slight smile. “To cut many arguments short, the king and the English were not happy with my Spanish servants and gave them new titles which demoted them. It was not altogether a happy time.”

“Excuse me,” said Katherine, “but was it not usually the case that a princess’s attendants would be sent home instead of staying with her?”

“Indeed so,” said Henry, “that is what Louis did with most of my sister Mary’s attendants – packed them off straight back home the day after the wedding. My parents should have done the same with Catalina’s entourage instead of giving them new titles.”

“Had Louis really packed off home all of your sister’s attendants my life might have been quite different,” said Catherine, emphasising the word ‘all’. “But it is hard to be a princess arriving on foreign soil. It is your duty to make a new home in your husband’s country but you cling to what is familiar from your childhood. I was dreadfully homesick. And with all the arguments my household split into factions and I was caught in the middle, not daring to offend the king and not wishing to upset either my duenna, Dona Elvira, or the ambassador, De Puebla. I realised that both of them would have to accede to the king’s wishes but when the king was not certain what he wanted to do, then my determination to do what he wanted served for nothing.”

“What about what my brother wanted? Or did your husbands’ wishes never count for much with you, my lady?” Henry had leaned forward and his eyes were fastened on her as he made the comment.

“Arthur’s wishes would come second to your father’s, as yours did when he was alive,” Catherine snapped back.

Henry inclined his head and settled back in his chair.

“As it happened,” said Catherine, “Arthur was to go to Wales and there was an idea that I should remain at court and not go with him. I despaired. My role in life was to be first Princess of Wales and then Queen of England, how could I be successful if my husband and I were separated?”

“You weren’t exactly successful as a queen when you were with your husband,” said Henry.

“You didn’t object for the first twenty years,” she snapped. “Anyway, Arthur pleaded with me to resist the separation but half my household believed I should stay behind. I was torn in two.”

“Get on with it,” muttered Julian.

“But you went?” I prompted her onwards.

“Yes, to Ludlow. We set out in December, although we stopped at one of the king’s houses near Oxford to celebrate Christmas. We spent the spring at Ludlow and then, on Easter Day Arthur fell ill. A week later he was dead and everything changed.”

“Did you attend his funeral?” I asked.

All three looked astonished.

“Royalty does not look on death,” explained Katherine, seeing my incomprehension. “At least,” she smiled, “not in our day.”

I nodded.

“Arthur was buried at Worcester,” Catherine said. “I was ill myself. The queen sent her litter for me to bring me back to London in easy stages.”

“Because of your illness?” I said.

“Yes.”

“And because my parents thought she might be carrying Arthur’s child,” said Henry. “I remember it well, my whole future hung on her – I would either continue as Duke of York and make my way in the church or I would become the heir to the throne. That’s why I could never understand her stance about her first marriage being unconsummated later in life. But I know you want to proceed in order so I shall say nothing more: for now at any rate.” He glowered at Catherine.

She leaned forward in her chair and said, “The problem was what to do with me and my dowry. To explain: my dowry was to come in instalments. The first had been paid in cash. The second was plate – household goods many of them made of precious metals – I had brought with me. A valuation had been made of these but they were not due to be handed over until a year later. The problem was that the plate was used during that year and the English claimed that its value had been reduced. Even though it was not unusual for princes to die soon after marriage, indeed my own brother had done so, nothing had been decided in the marriage negotiations about what would happen if either Arthur or I died.”

I nodded.

“So, it would be usual for a dower to be paid that would enable me to live in some style.”

“Had it not been for my father’s parsimony you would have been one of the richest women in the country,” Henry intervened.

“But because he felt that not all instalments of my dowry had been paid, King Henry decided he was not required to pay my dower rights. As far as my parents were concerned, the plate had formed the second part of my dowry and that had been sent with me, so my dower had been paid and it was up to the English to provide me with financial support.”

“Money always can produce diplomatic wrangling of the most determined sort,” Henry said, not without sympathy.

I thought of the bailouts in the eurozone during my own time. Nothing much had changed.

“And while all of this was going on we both lost a person very special to us.”

She turned to Henry whose eyes had filled with tears.

“My mother,” he said.

“She had been so determined to try and produce another heir...”

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