upbringing had prevented her from turning to Dona Elvira Manuel and begging to be taken home to her mother.
What foolishness that had been! She had left Spain forever. Whatever anyone had said to comfort her she knew that and the fear that she might never see again her beloved mother was what hurt her most.
She had known for a long time—since she was ten years old and she was now sixteen—that it had had to happen. A similar fate had overtaken her sisters Maria and Juana. They had left Spain—lost to their home forever. Her eldest sister Isabella and her adored brother Juan had been even more irrevocably dealt with for Death had taken them.
How often had she asked herself during that long and exhausting journey why life had to be so cruel. If only time could stand still, and they remain children, all happy together, for they had been such a happy family and it was their mother who had made them so. She had loved them all dearly and if they had—every one of them—been in awe of her, they had loved her with a devotion which had made them desperately unhappy to leave her.
People were crowding round her. They were speaking and she could not understand what they were saying, but she knew these smiling cheering crowds were telling her that they liked her and that she was welcome on their shores.
She was taken into a small mansion and there conducted to an apartment where she might wash and rest before food was served. What she wanted more than anything was to be alone, but she knew that she could not hope to be without her duenna.
“I am thankful we have come through the journey safely,” said Dona Elvira. “I thought it was the end for us . . . but the saints preserved us and before anything else we should give thanks to them.”
Queen Isabella had chosen Dona Elvira to conduct her daughter to England because she had faith in her trustworthiness and religious principles. Elvira watched with hawklike eyes and Catalina knew that if she did anything which was not correct according to strict Spanish etiquette, her mother would hear of it.
“You look too sad,” said Dona Elvira. “You must not look so. It is not good manners. You must show these people that you are happy to be here.”
“But I am not, Dona Elvira. I am most unhappy. I hope the Prince doesn’t like me . . . and sends me home.”
Dona Elvira clicked her tongue in exasperation. “And what grief would that cause your gracious mother? And your father would be angry and only send you back again and then we should have to face those terrible seas once more.”
“It is just that I keep thinking of the past . . . when I was little . . . when we were in the nursery together . . . Juan, Maria and Juana . . .”
“Childhood does not last forever.”
“They have all gone, Dona Elvira. . . . My dear dear brother . . .”
“He is with the saints. . . .”
“And Isabella . . . She didn’t want to go back to Portugal. She had married once for state reasons. That should have been enough. It was strange how she was so unhappy about going to Portugal but she loved her husband in time. I think she was fond of both her husbands, though she loved Alfonso most. But Emmanuel was very kind to her and she was grateful for that.”
“That is how it should be. That is how it will be with you, my lady Catalina. But I must call you Katharine now. . . . It is not so easy to say. But we must all learn to change.”
“If that were the only thing one had to learn it would be easy. Katharine seems different. Catalina was the girl who was so happy. When we were young I was so proud, Dona Elvira . . . proud to be the daughter of the Sovereigns who had driven out the Moors and united Castile and Aragon . . .”
“So you should have been . . . and still should be. Never forget who you are, Catalina . . . Katharine.”
“But we soon learned that Spain was more important than any of us. The greatness of Spain. The glory of Spain. That was what mattered. That was why Isabella had to go back to Portugal and marry Emmanuel. . . .”
“Who had loved her ever since she set foot on Portuguese soil to marry Alfonso, and was a good husband to her.”
“But she didn’t want to go back. I remember her sadness so vividly. I was only ten at the time . . . but I remember. They sent her back and she died . . . and now Maria has had to go to marry Emmanuel . . . because friendship with Portugal is important to Spain.”
“Perhaps you should rest. You are talking too much.”
“It relieves me to talk. I must talk to you. These people here don’t speak our language. I wonder what Arthur will be like.”
“He is to be your husband. You will love him because it will be your duty to do so.”
“I wonder if Juana loves her husband.”
“There has been enough of this talk. Now you are going to lie down for twenty minutes. I shall awaken you at the end of that time and you must prepare yourself to meet the important people whom the King will send.”
“Will the King come himself?”
“Of course the King will come. He will want to show how grateful he is to be able to welcome the daughter of the Sovereigns of Spain.”
“I hope they will like me.”
“What nonsense is this! How could they fail to like the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella? Now rest. You are wasting the time in idle talk.”
She allowed her veil to be taken off and lay back on the cool cushions. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the future by looking back over the past.
