The Constant Princess. Philippa Gregory

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      ‘We are to go to my castle at Ludlow,’ Arthur remarked awkwardly to Catalina. They were seated side by side at dinner, the hall below them, the gallery above and the wide doors crowded with people who had come from the City for the free entertainment of watching the court dine. Most people were observing the Prince of Wales and his young bride.

      She bowed her head but did not look at him. ‘Is it your father’s command?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Then I shall be happy to go,’ she said.

      ‘We will be alone, but for the warden of the castle and his wife,’ Arthur went on. He wanted to say that he hoped she would not mind, that he hoped she would not be bored, or sad or – worst of all – angry with him.

      She looked at him without a smile. ‘And so?’

      ‘I hope you will be content,’ he stumbled.

      ‘Whatever your father wishes,’ she said steadily, as if to remind him that they were merely prince and princess and had no rights and no power at all.

      He cleared his throat. ‘I shall come to your room tonight,’ he asserted.

      She gave him a look from eyes as blue and hard as the sapphires around her neck. ‘Whatever you wish,’ she said in the same neutral tone.

      He came when she was in bed and Dona Elvira admitted him to the room, her face like a stone, disapproval in every gesture. Catalina sat up in bed and watched as his groom of the bedchamber took his gown from his shoulders and went quietly out, closing the door behind him.

      ‘Wine?’ Arthur asked. He was afraid his voice quavered slightly.

      ‘No, thank you,’ she said.

      Awkwardly the young man came to the bed, turned back the sheets, got in beside her. She turned to look at him, and he knew he was blushing beneath her inquiring gaze. He blew out the candle so she could not see his discomfort. A little torchlight from the guard outside flickered through the slats of the shutters, and then was gone as the guard moved on. Arthur felt the bed move as she lay back and pulled her nightdress out of the way. He felt as if he were a thing to her, an object of no importance, something she had to endure in order to be Queen of England.

      He threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. ‘I’m not staying here. I’m going to my room,’ he said tersely.

      ‘What?’

      ‘I shan’t stay here. I’m not wanted …’

      ‘Not wanted? I never said you were not …’

      ‘It is obvious. The way you look …’

      ‘It’s pitch black! How d’you know how I look? And anyway, you look as if someone forced you here!’

      ‘I? It isn’t me who sent a message that half the court heard, that I was not to come to your bed.’

      He heard her gasp. ‘I did not say you were not to come. I had to tell them to tell you …’ She broke off in embarrassment. ‘It was my time … you had to know …’

      ‘Your duenna told my steward that I was not to come to your bed. How do you think that made me feel? How d’you think that looked to everyone?’

      ‘How else was I to tell you?’ she demanded.

      ‘Tell me yourself!’ he raged. ‘Don’t tell everyone else in the world.’

      ‘How could I? How could I say such a thing? I should be so embarrassed!’

      ‘Instead it is me who is made to look a fool!’

      Catalina slipped out of bed and steadied herself, holding the tall carved bedpost. ‘My lord, I apologise if I have offended you, I don’t know how such things are done here … In future I will do as you wish …’

      He said nothing.

      She waited.

      ‘I’m going,’ he said and went to hammer on the door for his groom to come to him.

      ‘Don’t!’ The cry was forced out of her.

      ‘What?’ He turned.

      ‘Everyone will know,’ she said desperately. ‘Know that there is something wrong between us. Everyone will know that you have just come to me. If you leave at once, everyone will think …’

      ‘I won’t stay here!’ he shouted.

      Her pride rushed up. ‘You will shame us both!’ she cried out. ‘What do you want people to think? That I disgust you, or that you are impotent?’

      ‘Why not? If both are true?’ He hammered on the door even louder.

      She gasped in horror and fell back against the bedpost.

      ‘Your Grace?’ came a shout from the outer chamber and the door opened to reveal the groom of the bedchamber and a couple of pages, and behind them Dona Elvira and a lady-in-waiting.