“I think it most unlikely that it was consummated. I gave orders that it should not be and Arthur would never disobey me.”
The Queen realized that the King was faintly irritated because she showed signs of disagreeing with him. She was amazed that she had done so, though mildly; perhaps it was because the idea was repugnant to her and she felt sorry for the young Princess who was being bandied from the dead brother to the living one.
“What is the delicate matter you wish me to do?”
“Find out from Katharine’s own lips whether or not the marriage was consummated.”
“And if it were not?”
“Then, as I see it, there is no obstacle to the marriage of Katharine and Henry. You will ask her this question and if the answer is no, then we may go ahead with negotiations.”
“And if it has been?”
“Then we will keep the matter to ourselves. I shall consider what can best be done.”
“I see you are determined that she shall have Henry.”
“I see no other way of keeping her dowry in the country,” said the King with a wry smile.
Katharine was indeed in an unhappy state. She was feeling quite bewildered. It seemed strange that a short while before she had been the wife of the heir to the throne, queen-to-be and now she was a widow . . . a stranger in a strange country and she did not know what would become of her.
Her great hope was that she would go home. They would make another match for her, of course, but at least for a while she would be with her mother. She did not want another match. She had realized how lucky she had been to come to Arthur who was so kind and whom she had grown to love during the short time they had been together.
The Queen had been kind to her, too. She had written to her and said she must not stay at Ludlow. There would be too many memories there and it would be better for her to take up her residence in an entirely new place.
“I am having the Palace of Croydon prepared for you,” wrote the Queen, “and my tailor John Cope is making a litter which will convey you to Croydon. It will be a most suitable vehicle of conveyance for it will be made of black velvet and black cloth and trimmed with black valances.”
It sounded funereal but of course she was in deep and bitter mourning.
The Queen was right; she did feel a little better in Croydon but as her grief for the loss of Arthur lifted a little, her apprehension regarding her own future increased.
At first few people came to Croydon. This was the period of her mourning; but one day she received a letter from the Queen at Richmond asking that she come to see her.
“I myself am somewhat indisposed,” wrote the Queen. “It is for this reason that I ask you to come to me.”
In her litter of black velvet Katharine set out from Croydon and when she arrived at Richmond was warmly embraced by the Queen.
“My dear dear child!” cried the Queen. “You look so sad. Let us mingle our tears. I believe he was as dear to you as he was to me.”
Katharine bowed her head and the Queen held the young girl in her arms.
“He loved you dearly,” went on the Queen. “I was so happy to see you together because it was clear to me that you would be just the wife he needed. He was so gentle . . . so modest . . . and that is rare in those of his rank.”
Katharine said: “He was all that I looked for in a husband.”
“And your union so brief. Oh, it is a cruel world we live in. But we have to go on whatever our sorrow. You have a happy future before you, my child.”
“I long to see my mother,” said Katharine. “My lady, can you tell me when I may expect to go to her?”
The Queen was silent. Then she took Katharine’s hands. “You love her dearly, I know.”
Katharine nodded silently.
“There will be another marriage for you.”
“Oh no . . . not, not yet . . . perhaps never.”
“You are the daughter of a great King and Queen, and there will be those to seek your hand. There will certainly be another marriage for you. You have had one marriage and are so young to be a widow. Forgive my asking this question, my dear, but was that a true marriage?
Katharine stared at her mother-in-law uncomprehendingly.
“Well,” the Queen stumbled on, “when two people marry, the Church tells us that one of the main reasons for doing so is for the procreation of children. Is there any hope that you . . . might be bearing Arthur’s child?”
“Oh no . . . no . . . ,” cried Katharine. “That would be impossible.”
“Impossible because you and Arthur . . . did not consummate the marriage?”
“It would be quite impossible,” said Katharine.
“I see. You were both so young . . . and he was not well . . . and the King had feared for his health and that was why he was against the consummation of the marriage. You understand that, Katharine?”
