Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1: The Constant Princess, The Other Boleyn Girl, The Boleyn Inheritance. Philippa GregoryЧитать онлайн книгу.
the royal blood of England have had those gates shut behind them and never seen daylight again. He could call you a pretender. You know what happens in England to pretenders. We have to go.’
Catalina curtseyed to My Lady the King’s Mother and received not even a nod of the head in return. She stiffened. The two retinues had met on their way to Mass; behind the old lady was her granddaughter the Princess Mary and half a dozen ladies. All of them showed frosty faces to the young woman who was supposed to be betrothed to the Prince of Wales but who had been neglected for so long.
‘My lady.’ Catalina stood in her path, waiting for an acknowledgement.
The king’s mother looked at the young woman with open dislike. ‘I hear that there are difficulties over the betrothal of the Princess Mary,’ she said.
Catalina looked towards the Princess Mary and the girl, hidden behind her grandmother, made an ugly grimace at her and broke off with a sudden snort of laughter.
‘I did not know,’ Catalina said.
‘You may not know, but your father undoubtedly knows,’ the old woman said irritably. ‘In one of your constant letters to him you might tell him that he does his cause and your cause no good by trying to disturb our plans for our family.’
‘I am very sure he does not…’ Catalina started.
‘I am very sure that he does; and you had better warn him not to stand in our way,’ the old woman interrupted her sharply, and swept on.
‘My own betrothal…’ Catalina tried.
‘Your betrothal?’ The king’s mother repeated the words as if she had never heard them before. ‘Your betrothal?’ Suddenly, she laughed, throwing her head back, her mouth wide. Behind her, the princess laughed too, and then all the ladies were laughing out loud at the thought of the pauper princess speaking of her betrothal to the most eligible prince in Christendom.
‘My father is sending my dowry!’ Catalina cried out.
‘Too late! You are far too late!’ the king’s mother wailed, clutching at the arm of her friend.
Catalina, confronted by a dozen laughing faces, reduced to helpless hysteria at the thought of this patched princess offering her bits of plate and gold, ducked her head down, pushed through them, and went away.
That night the ambassador of Spain and an Italian merchant of some wealth and great discretion stood side by side on a shadowy quayside at a quiet corner of the London docks, and watched the quiet loading of Spanish goods on to a ship bound for Bruges.
‘She has not authorised this?’ the merchant whispered, his dark face lit by flickering torchlight. ‘We are all but stealing her dowry! What will happen if the English suddenly say that the marriage is to go ahead and we have emptied her treasure room? What if they see that the dowry has come from Spain at last, but it never reached her treasure room? They will call us thieves. We will be thieves!’
‘They will never say it is to go ahead,’ the ambassador said simply. ‘They will impound her goods and imprison her the moment that they declare war on Spain, and they could do that any day now. I dare not let King Ferdinand’s money fall into the hands of the English. They are our enemies, not our allies.’
‘What will she do? We have emptied her treasury. There is nothing in her strong-room but empty boxes. We have left her a pauper.’
The ambassador shrugged. ‘She is ruined anyway. If she stays here when England is at war with Spain then she is an enemy hostage and they will imprison her. If she runs away with me she will have no kind welcome back at home. Her mother is dead and her family is ruined and she is ruined too. I would not be surprised if she did not throw herself into the Thames and drown. Her life is over. I cannot see what will become of her. I can save her money, if you will ship it out for me. But I cannot save her.’
I know I have to leave England; Arthur would not want me to stay to face danger. I have a terror of the Tower and the block that would be fitting only if I were a traitor, and not a princess who has never done anything wrong but tell one great lie, and that for the best. It would be the jest of all time if I had to put my head down on Warwick’s block and die, a Spanish pretender to the throne where he died a Plantagenet. That must not happen. I see that my writ does not run. I am not such a fool as to think I can command any more. I do not even pray any more. I do not even ask for my destiny. But I can run away. And I think the time to run away is now.
‘You have done what?’ Catalina demanded of her ambassador. The inventory in her hand trembled.
‘I took it upon my own authority to move your father’s treasure from the country. I could not risk…’
‘My dowry.’ She raised her voice.
‘Your Grace, we both know it will not be needed for a wedding. He will never marry you. They would take your dowry and he would still not marry you.’
‘It was my side of the bargain!’ she shouted. ‘I keep faith! Even if no-one else does! I have not eaten, I have given up my own house so as not to pawn that treasure. I make a promise and I keep to it, whatever the cost!’
‘The king would have used it to pay for soldiers to fight against your father. He would have fought against Spain with your father’s own gold!’ Fuensalida exclaimed miserably. ‘I could not let it happen.’
‘So you robbed me!’
He stumbled over the words. ‘I took your treasure into safe-keeping in the hopes that…’
‘Go!’ she said abruptly.
‘Princess?’
‘You have betrayed me, just as Dona Elvira betrayed me, just as everyone always betrays me,’ she said bitterly. ‘You may leave me. I shall not send for you again. Ever. Be very sure that I shall never speak to you again. But I shall tell my father what you have done. I shall write to him at once and tell him that you have stolen my dowry monies, that you are a thief. You will never be received at the court in Spain.’
He bowed, trembling with emotion, and then he turned to leave, too proud to defend himself.
‘You are nothing more than a traitor!’ Catalina cried as he reached the door. ‘And if I were a queen with the power of the queen I would have you hanged for treason.’
He stiffened. He turned, he bowed again, his voice when he spoke was ice. ‘Infanta, please do not make a fool of yourself by insulting me. You are badly mistaken. It was your own father who commanded me to return your dowry. I was obeying his direct order. Your own father wanted your treasury stripped of every valuable. It is he who decided to make you a pauper. He wanted the dowry money returned because he has given up all hope of your marriage. He wanted the money kept safe and smuggled safely out of England.
‘But I must tell you,’ he added with weighty malice, ‘he did not order me to make sure that you were safe. He gave no orders to smuggle you safely out of England. He thought of the treasure but not of you. His orders were to secure the safety of the goods. He did not even mention you by name. I think he must have given you up for lost.’
As soon as the words were out he wished he had not said them. The stricken look on her face was worse than anything he had ever seen before. ‘He told you to send back the gold but to leave me behind? With nothing?’
‘I am sure…’
Blindly, she turned her back to him and