Arthur

Chapter 6

Arthur, Prince of Wales. London, England. November 4th 1501.

It had been done. Catalina and I were wedded.

I did not know exactly what to think the whole time; my bride looked beautiful at the Church, and I could not take my eyes off her; yet, she showed no sign of feelings or affection towards me the whole time. Perhaps she was unhappy; there was no possibility that her behaviour could be justified by shyness and overwhelm. Catalina was a Spanish princess used to be adored, spoiled and beloved. The whole England went to see their new Princess of Wales, examining her from head to toe, trying to find something wrong, but they could not. They had to admit the princess was perfect: fair, beautiful, elegant and charismatic.

Then, why did she barely look at me the whole time? We exchanged our vows and then we were put in the carriage, so we would be led to the palace. She smiled to the crowd who was throwing flowers at her, screaming her name and blessing us; she waved at the children and the women, showing how much she appreciated their love and spontaneous loyalty. But she did not turn to me even once; she did not hold my hand and did not speak to me at all.

At the dining service, she acted as if she was a marble sculpture from the Westminster Abbey; with a soft smile on her face and the hands firmly positioned on the chair’s arms, Catalina barely ate or drank. There was dance and acting in our honor, and at the end of each presentation she simply clapped three or four times, as if she had been trained for that.

Naturally, not many people addressed to the Princess; she did not speak English, no one was interested in talking with her in French, most were not instructed enough to know Latin or Greek and no one could speak Spanish apart from her own service.

My mother however tried to be kind to her, which I greatly appreciated. When she had the chance, she sat by my bride’s side, and started talking with her in which appeared a pleasant conversation. After some time, my Lady Mother suggested her to dance for the court, and she politely accepted and reunited her maids-in-waiting. The one always beside her, I had learned, was her closest friend in Spain, Maria de Salinas, a pretty dark haired girl who was always assisting the Infanta and even spent the nights at her chambers to make sure the Princess had a proper sleep.

Catalina gracefully ordered music, a Spanish Volta, and started dancing. Her way of dancing was unique, as I already knew. Unlike every other girl I had ever seen, she did not seem to dance to please the eyes of the public. She rather danced for herself, with her eyes semi-closed, a calm expression and a soft smile. Her moves were delicate, her timing was perfect and her harmony was suburb. By that time, there was no man in the court who did not adore my bride and no woman who did not envy her.

My Lady Grandmother, of course, looked skeptical at Catalina; that marriage was her doing, her triumph, but I knew that even though she was happy with the profit and elegance Catalina had brought from Spain, she was not content with the fact her dowry had not yet been fully paid. Of course it bothered me to know that she was so focused on that matter more than the Princess’ wellbeing. Knowing the grandmother I had, I knew she would try to find something wrong about her until the Spanish King sent the second half of the dowry.

My mother gently pulled my arm when Catalina was still dancing. “How are you feeling, son?”

“I am well… All is well.”

She smiled and looked at Catalina. “Isn’t she a lovely girl?”

“She is.” I agreed. “Born to be Queen.”

“Indeed. But I hope you keep in mind she is yet only a girl.”

“Not a common girl. She is a princess from one of the richest kingdoms in Europe, and was raised by Isabella of Castille.”