made up his mind that the Queen of Naples would do very well as the next Queen of England and had in fact been on the point of drafting out a request for her hand.
This changed everything.
Clear of skin and sweet of breath the Queen of Naples might be, but if she was penniless and her title was an empty one, she was no fit bride for Henry Tudor.
It was disappointing. Two brides lost in a very short time.
But he was not one to despair. The hunt for the new Queen of England would go on.
There was now no longer any excuse for delay. The betrothal ceremony was to take place and that was binding. Katharine must accept it; it was what she must take if she were to escape from marriage to the King.
There were several reasons why she must accept her fate besides that it was the wish of her parents. She was living in Durham House and she often wondered how she was going to find the money to pay her servants. Poverty made her feel that she was an exile. She had never experienced the lack of money before she came to England. Indeed she had never thought of money. It was different now. Her parents sent her nothing. Why should they? They had paid one hundred thousand crowns as the first part of her dowry and would pay the other half after her marriage. They were not going to send more, which would be used by Henry. It was his duty now to make sure that his son’s widow had adequate funds.
But Henry was not one to part easily with money and there was nothing coming from him. The gowns which she had brought with her from Spain were beginning to lose their freshness and some were even becoming threadbare, but the King considered that no concern of his. He had made a good proposition to her parents and it had been rejected. At the moment she was merely the widow of the Prince of Wales with a dowry only half of which had been paid and over that her parents were haggling.
Katharine was beginning to see that only by becoming the prospective wife of the heir to the throne could she expect to live in comfort.
Therefore she must forget that she had no great desire for this alliance, but the main reason was that her partner in it was only a boy.
On the other hand Henry was looking forward to the ceremony. He was always delighted by such and when he was the center of them his pleasure was greatly increased.
Margaret was subdued at this time. She had been boastful and arrogant and had never lost an opportunity of scoring over him, but now the prospect of going into Scotland was alarming her. She had grown quiet, less demanding; and Henry felt a little sorry for her. How glad he was that as king-to-be he would stay in his own country, at his own Court, surrounded by those who made much of him. That they did so because they feared to do otherwise he knew in his heart, but he liked that too. One of the best things in life was power. He had known that when he was a baby, holding sway over Anne Oxenbrigge because she loved him. But power which came through fear was equally exciting and desirable.
Yes, Henry was very pleased. How delighted Katharine must be. Poor girl! She had thought she was well set up in life when she married Arthur. But Henry secretly believed she had compared the two brothers and if she had, she must have known how much more attractive Henry was.
But she had seemed to like Arthur. Ah, but that was because she had not known then that there might be a chance of getting Henry.
Again he wished he were older. “The years seem as though they’ll never pass,” he commented to Charles Brandon who as a mature seventeen-year-old replied that they went fast enough for him.
Perhaps they did. He had reached the golden age. When I am seventeen where shall I be? wondered Henry.
Margaret came to see him. Her departure for Scotland was imminent and she wanted this brash brother of hers, of whom she was exceedingly jealous mainly because he was to stay in England, to lose a little of his assurance.
He looked splendid, of course he did. He had good looks and in spite of his youth a certain stature. He was taller than all of his companions who were of his age, and he was, of course, too sure of himself. It would give her satisfaction to prick that conceit if it were possible, it would be a little balm to her sorrow. Besides, she told herself virtuously, it would be good for Henry.
“So . . . our boy is going to be a bridegroom,” she said. “Ah, but that won’t be for a while will it? Our boy has to grow up first.”
“At least I’ll stay here in England. I haven’t to go to some bleak dour old country.”
As usual they sought and found the other’s most vulnerable spot.
“I believe my husband eagerly awaits me,” said Margaret.
“No doubt he will be there to greet you if he can spare the time from his mistresses.”
“I shall know how to deal with them.”
“Make sure they do not know how to deal with you.”
“I will come to my brother for advice. He is so knowledgeable, being eleven years of age he knows everything.”
“I am twelve.”
“Not for a few days.”
“I am mistaken for older.”
“Who makes that mistake? Everybody knows when our noble heir to the throne was born. They all mourn the loss of Arthur. He was the one who was the real Prince of Wales.”
“People seem to think I am more suitable for a king,” said Henry almost modestly.
