Katharine of Aragon by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online

trimmed with ermine about the neck and wide sleeves. There was mud on his clothes and even on his face. He had clearly travelled far on horseback in this inclement weather and had not thought it necessary to remove the stains of travel before confronting her.
    Katharine smiled and the alert, crafty eyes studied her intently, looking for some defect, some deformity which would make her parents desirous of hiding her from him; he could see none.
    Henry could not speak Spanish and he had no Latin. Katharine had learned a little French from her brother Juan's wife, Margaret of Austria, but Margaret's stay in Spain had been short and, when she had gone, there had been no one with whom Katharine could converse in that language. Henry spoke in English: “Welcome to England, my lady Infanta. My son and I have eagerly awaited your coming these many months. If we have rudely thrustaside the customs of your country we ask pardon. You must understand that it was our great desire to welcome you that made us do so.”
    Katharine attempted to reply in French but slipped into Spanish. She curtseyed before the King while his little eyes took in the details of her figure. She was healthy, this Spanish Infanta, more so than his frail Arthur. She was a good deal taller than Arthur; her eyes were clear; so was her skin. Her body was sturdy, and if not voluptuous it was strong. She was no beauty, but she was healthy and she was young; it was merely custom which had made her parents wish to hide her from him. Her only real claim to beauty was that abundant hair—thick, healthy hair with a touch of red in its color.
    Henry was well satisfied.
    She was talking to him now in her own tongue, and, although he could not understand her, he knew that she was replying to his welcome with grace and charm.
    He took her hand and led her to the window.
    Then he signed to Ayala who had at that moment entered the apartment.
    “Tell the Infanta,” said Henry, “that I am a happy man this day.”
    Ayala translated, and Katharine replied that the King's kindness made her very happy too.
    “Tell her,” said the King, “that in a few minutes her bridegroom will be riding to the palace at the head of a cavalcade. They cannot be much more than half an hour after me.”
    Ayala told Katharine this; and she smiled.
    She was standing between the King and Ayala, they in their wet garments, when she first saw her bridegroom.
    He looked very small, riding at the head of that cavalcade, and her first feeling for him was: He is so young—he is younger than I am. He looks frightened. He is more frightened than I am.
    And in that moment she felt less resentful of her fate.
    She determined that she and Arthur were going to be happy together.
    IT WAS LATER that evening. Katharine looked almost pretty in candlelight; her cheeks were faintly flushed; her gray eyes alight with excitement. Her maids of honor, all chosen for their beauty, were very lovely indeed. Only Doña Elvira Manuel sat aloof, displeased. She could not forget that the wishes of her Sovereigns had been ignored.
    The Infanta had invited the King and the Prince to supper in her apartments in the Bishop's Palace; and in the gallery the minstrels were playing. The supper had been a prolonged meal; Katharine was continually being astonished at the amount that was eaten in England. At tonight's feast therehad been sucking pigs and capons, peacocks, chickens, mutton and beef, savory pies, deer, fish and wild fowl, all washed down with malmsey, romney and muscadell.
    The English smacked their lips and showed their appreciation of the food; even the King's eyes glistened with pleasure and only those who knew him well guessed that he was calculating how much the feast had cost, and that if the Bishop could afford such lavish entertainment he might be expected to contribute with equal bounty to the ever hungry exchequer.
    The Prince sat beside Katharine. He was an elegant boy, for he was fastidious in his ways and his