Philippa Gregory's Tudor Court 6-Book Boxed Set by Philippa Gregory Read Free Book Online

sail, it was still terribly rough, and then we were forced into Plymouth. We couldn’t get to Southampton at all. We were all quite sure we would be drowned.”
    “Well, you couldn’t have come overland,” Henry said flatly, thinking of the parlous state of France and the enmity of the French king. “You’d be a priceless hostage for a king who was heartless enough to take you. Thank God you never fell into enemy hands.”
    She looked at him thoughtfully. “Pray God I never do.”
    “Well, your troubles are over now,” Henry concluded. “The next boat you are on will be the royal barge when you go down the Thames. How shall you like to become Princess of Wales?”
    “I have been the Princess of Wales ever since I was three years old,” she corrected him. “They always called me Catalina, the Infanta, Princess of Wales. I knew it was my destiny.” She looked at Arthur, who still sat silently observing the table. “I have known we would be married all my life. It was kind of you to write to me so often. It made me feel that we were not complete strangers.”
    He flushed. “I was ordered to write to you,” he said awkwardly. “As part of my studies. But I liked getting your replies.”
    “Good God, boy, you don’t exactly sparkle, do you?” asked his father critically.
    Arthur flushed scarlet to his ears.
    “There was no need to tell her that you were ordered to write,” his father ruled. “Better to let her think that you were writing of your own choice.”
    “I don’t mind,” Catalina said quietly. “I was ordered to reply. And, as it happens, I should like us always to speak the truth to each other.”
    The king barked out a laugh. “Not in a year’s time you won’t,” he predicted. “You will be all in favor of the polite lie then. The great savior of a marriage is mutual ignorance.”
    Arthur nodded obediently, but Catalina merely smiled, as if his observations were of interest but not necessarily true. Henry found himself piqued by the girl, and still aroused by her prettiness.
    “I daresay your father does not tell your mother every thought that crosses his mind,” he said, trying to make her look at him again.
    He succeeded. She gave him a long, slow, considering gaze from her blue eyes. “Perhaps he does not,” she conceded. “I would not know. It is not fitting that I should know. But whether he tells her or not: my mother knows everything anyway.”
    He laughed. Her dignity was quite delightful in a girl whose head barely came up to his chest. “She is a visionary, your mother? She has the gift of Sight?”
    She did not laugh in reply. “She is wise,” she said simply. “She is the wisest monarch in Europe.”
    The king thought he would be foolish to bridle at a girl’s devotion to her mother, and it would be graceless to point out that her mother might have unified the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon but that she was still a long way from creating a peaceful and united Spain. The tactical skill of Isabella and Ferdinand had forged a single country from the Moorish kingdoms; they had yet to make everyone accept their peace. Catalina’s own journey to London had been disrupted by rebellions of Moors and Jews who could not bear the tyranny of the Spanish kings. He changed the subject. “Why don’t you show us a dance?” he demanded, thinking that he would like to see her move. “Or is that not allowed in Spain either?”
    “Since I am an English princess, I must learn your customs,” she said. “Would an English princess get up in the middle of the night and dance for the king after he forced his way into her rooms?”
    Henry laughed at her. “If she had any sense she would.”
    She threw him a small, demure smile. “Then I will dance with my ladies,” she decided, and rose from her seat at the high table and went down to the center of the floor. She called one by name, Henry noted, María de Salinas, a pretty, dark-haired girl who came quickly to stand beside