“They treated me as the Prince of Wales.”
“As they would, my lord . . . if the Prince himself were absent.”
“Skelton . . . I wonder . . .”
“I have had news from Ludlow. The Prince is happy with his bride. He is breathless still and I believe spits blood, which he tries to hide . . . but it is hard to hide the secrets of the bedchamber from zealous servants’ eyes.”
“Skelton . . . you know something . . .”
“All I know I would tell my lord.” He put his mouth close to Henry’s ear. “The love between the royal pair increases. They are very tender . . . and much in each other’s company.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if you put two loving people together . . . if they be man and wife . . . well, what would you . . . nature being what it is?”
“They must not have a child,” said Henry.
“Who says so? Great Harry. And he should be obeyed. But there are times when God turns a deaf ear even to princes. What we must pray for, my dear lord . . . is good fortune . . . and the grace of God.”
Spring was beautiful in England. It seemed particularly so after the dark days of winter; now the air had a balminess in it and the whole of nature seemed to be aware that spring was coming. Arthur showed Katharine wild daffodils when they rode out together and the mingling white of the daisies and gold of the dandelions seemed enchanting to her.
She was watchful of him, always declaring when she saw him begin to weary that she had been too long in the saddle and was tired. He was always solicitous, but he knew that she was thinking of him and he loved her for it.
They touched hands; they kissed; sometimes he would put an arm about her and hold her to him; but their endearments never went beyond that. They were watchful, Arthur remembering his father’s injunction; Katharine, aware of something she did not fully understand but fearing that it would be dangerous for Arthur, kept her emotions in check.
Perhaps it occurred to both of them that it could not last; perhaps that was why they were determined to enjoy those days to the full.
Change hit them suddenly.
One of the attendants came in to say that there was a case of sweating sickness in the town of Ludlow.
There was immediate consternation in the castle. Everyone was awaiting a summons from the King. They were sure that when the news reached him, Arthur would be removed at once.
But no message came. And then it was too late.
It was inevitable that the weakest member of the household should be the victim.
There was despair in the castle. Katharine prayed for the life of her young husband. Surely God could not be so cruel as to take him away now that they were becoming so happy together? The King would send down the finest physicians in the land. Arthur’s life must be saved.
But few survived the dreaded sweating sickness. Arthur most certainly could not.
They brought the news to her. She stared at them unbelievingly. Dead! Arthur. She could not believe it. She would not believe it.
“’Tis true, my lady,” they said. “God knows what the King will do when he hears this doleful news.”
She felt bereft, desolate. A wife and no wife . . . a virgin widow.
If only the marriage had been consummated. If only she could have had Arthur’s child. Then she would have had something to live for.
Now . . . she was alone.
The King was at Greenwich when he heard that Arthur’s Chamberlain had arrived from Ludlow and was urgently requesting to be brought to him.
Henry was seized with trembling for a terrible foreboding had come to him.
“Bring him to me with all speed,” he said, “and as soon as he comes.”
Arthur’s Chamberlain was heavy-hearted as he rode to Greenwich where the Court was in residence. He dreaded telling the King the tragic news and he decided that he would impart it first to the Council and ask their advice as to the best way of breaking it.
The Council was dismayed and after some consultation decided that it would be best for the King’s Confessor to tell him and this was arranged.
When Henry heard the discreet knock on the door he knew that it was his Confessor who stood without and, suspecting nothing, he bade him enter.
The man’s woebegone expression sent quivers of alarm running through the King’s mind and he immediately thought of Arthur.
“You have ill news,” he said.
The Confessor replied: “I have, my lord, and you are going to need all the strength that God can give you.”
