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One day in early June 1509 Henry, in a buoyant mood, made his way from the Council Chamber at Greenwich to Katherine's apartments. He came alone, and dismissed her attendants. Then he raised the Princess from her curtsy with a courtly gesture, declared his love for her, and asked her to be his wife. Without any hesitation, she joyfully agreed, relief and happiness evident in her face and voice.
This was the culmination of all Katherine's hopes during the last six years: God had now seen fit to answer her prayers, and she was filled with thankfulness. She would be Queen of England, raised by this magnificent young man to be the bride of his heart and the mother of his heirs. Those courtiers who had scorned her and tried to humiliate her would now have to defer to her, and she would not have been human if she did not relish the prospect. The days of want were gone for good, for very shortly she would be the wife of the richest monarch ever to reign in England.
Fray Diego was all but forgotten now, as Katherine gave her heart unreservedly to her future husband. That she fell quickly in love with him we may easily believe as she had long ago responded to his charm and good looks, and he, now that the matter had been decided, saw no need to wait much longer before they could legally share a bed. His coronation was planned for midsummer, and he wanted Katherine to share it with him as queen.
Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon were married privately on 11 June 1509, the feast day of St Barnabas, in her closet at Greenwich, by William Warham, who was now Archbishop of Canterbury, and had once spoken out against their union. Katherine wore virginal white with her long hair flowing free under a gold circlet, and vowed to be 'bonair and buxom in bed and at board' as was laid down in the more robust form of the marriage service then in use.
The Archbishop pronounced the young pair man and wife, then the small wedding party proceeded to the Chapel of the Observant Friars within the palace precincts to hear mass.
There is no record of the King and his new Queen being publicly put to bed together; their wedding was private, therefore it is likely that they were accorded some privacy afterwards. However, there was never any doubt that Katherine's second marriage was ardently consummated that night.
To his contemporaries, Katherine's bridegroom was the true heir in blood to both Lancaster and York, and the reincarnation of his magnificent maternal grandfather, Edward IV. He was a man of great physical beauty, above the usual height, being around 6'1"tall (his skeleton, discovered at Windsor in the early nineteenth century, measured 6'2" in length, whilst his armour, preserved in the Tower of London, would fit a man of nearly 6'4"). He was magnificent to look at, being lean and muscular, with an extremely fine calf to his leg of which he was inordinately proud, and had skin so fair that it was almost translucent; we are told that it glowed, flushing a rosy pink after the King had exercised. All were agreed that he was extremely handsome, and the ambassadors who visited Henry VIII's court during the early years of his reign were united in their praise of his personal endowments: 'His Majesty is the handsomest potentate I ever set eyes on,' wrote the Venetian Sebastian Giustinian in 1514, adding that Henry had 'a round face so beautiful that it would become a pretty woman'. Five years later, that same ambassador was still singing the King's praises: 'Nature could not have done more for him. He is very fair, his whole frame admirably proportioned.' He had strong features, with piercing blue eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a small but sensual mouth. His voice was slightly high-pitched. He had 'auburn hair combed straight and short in the French fashion', and until 1518 he was clean-shaven. He then grew a beard, saying he would not shave it off until he had met with and embraced his ally, the King of France. Queen Katherine protested, for she did not like this new bearded Henry, but the beard remained until 1519. Many thought it attractive - 'it is reddish and looks like gold' - but Katherine continued to complain about it, and by November that year the King had given in to her entreaties and shaved it off. An international catastrophe was only narrowly averted by Henry's ambassador to France, who told King Francis the truth, whereupon the French courtiers, far from being indignant, were amused to learn that the mighty sovereign of England had capitulated to his usually complacent and meek wife. Thus, peace was preserved, and the Queen was kept happy.
Henry VIII had boundless energy and a strong constitution. When, in 1514, he contracted smallpox, his doctors were afraid for his life, yet within days he was up, having 'risen from his bed to plan a military campaign'. However, throughout his life he had a pathological hatred of anything to do with illness and death, and he was as terrified as a child of the plague that troubled his kingdom during hot summers.
Giustinian thought Henry 'the best dressed sovereign in the world; his robes are the richest and most superb that can be imagined, and he puts on new clothes every holy day.' As the calendar was full of saints' days and religious festivals, that meant a lot of new clothes. There were outfits of cloth of gold, Florentine velvet, silver tissue, damask and satin, mantles lined with ermine, heavy gold collars with diamonds the size of walnuts suspended from them, ceremonial robes with trains four yards long, and jewelled rings worn on fingers and thumbs. Some clothes were cut in 'Hungarian' or 'Turkish' fashion, and many had raised embroidery in gold or silver thread. It was an age in which men strutted like peacocks in their finery, although none was. finer than the King, who looked upon costume as a visual art.
Henry's contemporaries thought he was 'the most gentle and affable prince in the world'. He was quick to laugh and 'intelligent, with a merry look'. He had great charisma and a strong personality that won golden opinions. In 1509, Katherine's future chamberlain, Lord Mountjoy, told the Dutch humanist scholar Erasmus that the King, 'our Octavius', had an 'extraordinary and almost divine character. What a hero he now shows himself, how wisely he behaves, what a lover he is of goodness and justice! Our King does not desire gold or gems, but virtue, glory, immortality!' As Henry himself declared in one of his songs, idleness was the chief mistress of all vice, and he meant to follow the path of virtue, something by which he set great store throughout his life. That his expectations often related to others rather than himself he did not regard as inconsistent, for in his opinion his own deeds and behaviour were always morally justified. He was bursting with confidence, 'prudent, sage, and free from every vice'.
On the debit side, he was quick-tempered, headstrong, immature and vain. In 1515, he asked the Venetian ambassador if the King of France was as tall as he: 'Is he as stout? What sort of legs has he?' 'Spare,' he was told. 'Look here!' crowed Henry, 'I also have a good calf to show!' And he opened his doublet to display his shapely, muscular legs. He 'could not abide to have any man stare in his face' when in conversation, yet he himself would often turn a steely gaze on people, and Sir Thomas More was not the only one to stammer under the 'quick and penetrable eyes' of his sovereign.
As the years passed, Henry continued to attract praise and acclaim. He was well aware of his glorious reputation, and on occasions boasted about it. Yet as early as 1514 there were indications of the kind of ruler he would one day become, and the Spanish ambassador was moved to warn his master, King Ferdinand, that if a bridle was not put on 'this colt, it will afterwards be found impossible to control him'. His words were echoed seven years later by Sir Thomas More, who advised Thomas Cromwell, then newly admitted to the King's service, that he should handle Henry with caution: 'For, if the lion knew his strength, hard were it to rule him.'
Henry was gifted with acute powers of reasoning and observation, as well as the ability to evaluate a person or situation almost immediately. He had a vast store of general knowledge that he used to good effect. Above all, he was an intellectual with 'most piercing talents'. According to Sir Thomas More, he had 'cultivated all the liberal arts' and possessed 'greater erudition and judgement than any previous monarch'. From infancy, he had been imbued with a passion for learning, thanks to the good offices of his grandmother, the austere Lady Margaret Beaufort and was the most learned king yet to have ascended the throne of England. He was 'so gifted and adorned with mental accomplishments of every sort' that the Venetian ambassadors 'believed him to have few equals in the world'. 'What affection he bears to the learned!' wrote Lord Mountjoy in 1509, informing Erasmus of Henry's intention to establish a haven for scholars at his court. Europe was then on the brink of a period of cultural flux, when men were beginning in earnest to question and rationalise in matters of religion or philosophy. During Henry's own lifetime, two great movements would affect his realm: the Renaissance, which would have a profound effect upon England's cultural life; and the Reformation, which was to overthrow the traditional conception of a Christian Republic of Europe for ever.
Henry's education had been extremely thorough. He could speak and write fluent French and Latin, understood Italian well and spoke it a little, and by 1520 was conversant with Spanish. He loved reading, and his favourite books during his younger years were the works of St Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus. However, in 1519, he began to suffer from recurring headaches and migraines, which made reading and writing 'somewhat tedious and painful'. The headaches continued to plague him for the rest of his life, and may well account to some extent for his later irascibility.
The King wrote several treatises during his life, and his letters to the Vatican were said to have been the most eloquent received there, for which reason they were exhibited in the consistory. His literary talents extended to passionate love letters, as well as poetry. His chief interest was theology; he was a master of doctrinal debate, of which he was 'very fond', and would hear others out with 'remarkable courtesy and unruffled temper'. He was good at mathematics, and also keenly interested in astronomy, a passion he shared with Sir Thomas More, who would often join him on the leads above Greenwich Palace to look at the night sky.
Henry VIII professed all his life a deep and sincere faith in God, and for many years regarded himself as a true sonofthe Church of Rome. He was known to attend as many as six masses in a single day, and at least three on days when he hunted. Every evening, at 6.0 p.m. and 9.0 p.m., he went to the Queen's chamber to hear the offices of vespers and compline. At Easter, he 'crept to the Cross' on his knees, with all due humility. He also held himself up as an authority on doctrine, and was acknowledged as such by his contemporaries because 'he is very religious'.
In 1521, while convalescing after a fever, the King added the finishing pages to a Latin treatise he had been working on for some time with assistance from others, notably Sir Thomas More. It was entitled A Defence of the Seven Sacraments against Martin Luther,and was an attack upon the heresies propagated since 1517 by a former monk of Wittenburg in Germany, who would thirty years later be hailed in England as the founder of the Protestant religion. Henry was well aware that information about Luther's controversial teachings was already filtering through to England, and had gained hold in Germany. Yet although he himself enjoyed disputing points of doctrine, heresy was another matter entirely, and he was appalled that any credence should be given to the corrupt teachings of 'this weed, this dilapidated, sick and evil-minded sheep'.
Henry VIII, like most of his contemporaries, was well aware that there were certain abuses within the established Church that needed reforming, but he was a religious conservative at heart, and would not countenance heresy as a means of achieving this. To Henry, and men like him, heresy was a poison that threatened the very foundations of the superstructure of Church and State as one body politic. It encouraged disaffection among the lower classes, challenged the divinely appointed order of things, and - worst of all - meant eternal damnation for those who succumbed to its lure. In sum, it represented every evil that could be manifested in a well-ordered world, and must therefore be eradicated.
In his book, the King's central argument was for the retention of the seven sacraments - Luther had rejected all but two. Marriage, in particular, was upheld by Henry, for it turned 'the water of concupiscence' into 'wine of the finest flavour. Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.' Luther had also rejected the authority of the Pope, but the King exhorted all faithful souls to 'honour and acknowledge the sacred Roman See for their supreme mother'. When Thomas More suggested that this was a little extravagant, Henry protested that he was so 'bounden' to the See of Rome that he could not do enough to honour it: 'We will set forth the Pope's authority to the uttermost,' he declared - words he was later to regret.
Although Luther himself accused Henry VIII of raving 'like a strumpet in a tantrum' in the book, and spoke of 'stuffing such impudent falsehoods down his throat', the Pope received the treatise with rapturous praise, and in the autumn of 1521 rewarded Henry with the titleFidei Defensor(Defender of the Faith) in gratitude. Elizabeth II still bears this title today, though Britain has been an independent Protestant state for more than four centuries.
Apart from religion, Henry loved gambling, good food, and dancing, in which he did 'marvellous things, both in dancing and jumping, proving himself indefatigable'. He was obsessive about hunting, which he preferred above all else. The 'grease season' was traditionally in the autumn, but Henry also hunted at other times of the year, both for pleasure and to provide for his table. In the autumn, however, he would take a rest from state duties and go on a progress through parts of his kingdom, chiefly for the purpose of discovering the delights of different chases. 'He never takes his diversion without tiring eight or ten horses,' wrote the Venetian ambassador in 1519; 'when he gets home, they are all exhausted.' In fact, he exhausted most of his male companions too by 'converting the sport of hunting into a martyrdom'. And, after a successful day, it was not unknown for him to boast about his success for three or four hours at a time. Queen Katherine enjoyed hunting too, and sometimes accompanied her husband.
Being an excellent horseman and an expert in the martial arts, Henry was also passionately fond of that other great medieval sport, the jousting tournament, which was almost a weekly event during the early years of his reign. He was a fine jouster who was conspicuous in the combats, both on horseback and on foot, excelling everyone else 'as much in agility at breaking spears as in nobleness of stature'. At one tournament in 1518, Henry performed 'supernatural feats', causing his magnificent charger to jump and execute other acts of horsemanship'. Then, changing mounts, he made his fresh steed 'fly rather than leap, to the delight and ecstasy of everybody'. The Queen would never miss a joust if she could help it, and watched with her ladies from specially erected pavilions at the side of the lists.
Another sport at which he excelled was tennis, not the game played at Wimbledon today, but 'royal' (real) tennis played on a hard, enclosed court- Henry's court is preserved at Hampton Court - an altogether tougher and more dangerous game. The Household Accounts for the year 1519 record a payment for 3V4 yards of black velvet for a 'tennis coat for his Grace'. 'It is the prettiest thing in the world to see him play, his fair skin glowing through a shirt of the finest texture,' reported the Venetian ambassador.
Henry enjoyed hawking, 'running the ring', 'casting the bar', wrestling, and archery. He practised daily at the archery butts and passed a law requiring every man in England to spend an hour doing the same on Saturday afternoons, such was his faith in the reputation of the longbow as the traditional instrument of English military success; he himself could 'draw the bow with greater strength than any man in England'. He also wished to ensure that the young men of his court were expert in the martial skills, and on one occasion in 1510 arranged for a fight with battle axes to take place in the presence of the Queen and her ladies in Greenwich Park, thus mixing military exercise with pleasure.
Henry had a lifelong love of the sea and all things maritime. He ordered the building of several great ships - including theHenry Grace-a-Dieuand theMary Rose -and has been rightly acclaimed as the founder of Britain's modern navy. In 1515, he went with the Queen to review his fleet at Southampton, wearing a 'sailor's coat and trousers of frieze cloth of gold' and carrying 'a large whistle with which he whistled almost as loud as a trumpet'. He was in his element that day, on board his flagship, where for a couple of hours he enjoyed himself immensely, acting as pilot.
His pleasures were not always so boisterous. He inherited from his Welsh forbears an abiding love of music, and could play a number of instruments, sing and compose. He was particularly accomplished on the lute, harpsichord, recorder, flute and virginals, and would often entertain the court by singing and playing his own compositions. He could 'sing from the book at sight', often set his own verses to music, and composed anthems and hymns. One, 'O Lord, the maker of all things', is still sung in churches today. Yet Henry preferred writing secular songs, mostly in the courtly tradition, with English or French lyrics. The most famous were 'Green groweth the holly' (probably written for Katherine of Aragon),'Adieu Madame et ma mahtresse(written much later for Anne Boleyn), and 'Pastime with good company', which vividly portrays his mood at the commencement of his reign.
In these early years, Henry VIII's pleasures took precedence. His attitude to kingship and the duties of state he was required to perform was a different matter entirely. He had had a cloistered upbringing before suddenly finding himself in a position of power, honour and wealth, a heady experience for a youth of eighteen. Perhaps it was not surprising that he spent his days in pursuit of amusement rather than learning statecraft. Matters of state, he felt, could safely be left in the hands of his Privy Council; in fact, 'he did not care to occupy himself with anything but the pleasures of his age'.
The mature men appointed to advise him were so slow that they caused him 'much disgust': Henry preferred the company of the young men of the court with whom he had shared his boyhood. His councillors were alarmed to see him squandering his father's carefully amassed wealth on expensive and frivolous pastimes when he should have been learning about the government of his kingdom, and they were at pains to persuade him - not without difficulty - to sit in on meetings of the Privy Council, 'with which at first he could not endure to be troubled'. As the French ambassador observed, 'Henry is a youngling, cares for nothing but girls and hunting, and wastes his father's patrimony.'
His councillors hoped that, given time to mature, he would settle down and fulfil their expectations. Yet it was a slow process. In 1514, the Milanese ambassador complained that the King had put off their discussion about politics to another time, 'as he was then in a hurry to go and dine and dance afterwards'. Affairs of state, even after five years on the throne, were still ranking fairly low on Henry's scale of priorities. Even as late as 1519, the Papal nuncio reported that he was 'devoting himself to accomplishments and amusements day and night, being intent on nothing else'. All business was left to Cardinal Wolsey, 'who rules everything'. This was the situation that endured until the late 1520s, when Henry began to take the reins of government into his own hands.
It was the outward trappings of kingship that were important to Henry VIII during these early years: the pageantry, the ceremonial, the gorgeous robes, the priceless jewels, and the glittering court, and he passionately believed that they all served to enhance the image of royalty. It was Henry who was the first English King to express a preference to be styled 'Your Majesty' rather than the customary 'Your Grace'. He saw himself, indeed, as a hallowed being set apart from the ordinary species of men, and it was a persona he consciously cultivated, so confident did he become of his own divinity. No King of England before him enjoyed such power, nor ever would after him.
A man of contrasts, he personified for the average Englishman all the strengths and virtues of his race, and it was this that lay at the root of his vast popularity. As Prince of Wales his charm had won the hearts of his people, and now, exalted to kingship, he was feted as the herald of a new age, a golden epoch that would witness a return to England's former glory, the revival of the days of chivalry, and the ultimate conquest of France - the new King's ambitions were well-publicised. The English loved Henry for his youth, his beauty, his high courage, his accomplishments, and above all for having identified their interests as his own. He was very knowledgeable about most of the issues that touched their lives, having been born with a talent for absorbing information, and there was 'no necessary kind of knowledge, from King's degree to carter's, but he had an honest sight of it'. He was fond, in his younger years, of mingling incognito among his subjects, in order to learn their views on the issues of the day.
In 1509, it was said that the whole world was 'rejoicing in the possession of such a King'. The passing of years did not dampen this enthusiasm, for in 1513 we are told that 'love for the King is universal with all who see him, as his Highness does not seem a person of this world but one descended from Heaven'. Erasmus, later still, described Henry as 'more of a companion than a King', a view that would have earned the hearty agreement of those courtiers with whom the King hunted, tilted, and otherwise amused himself. This common touch came naturally to him, and would serve to hold the love and loyalty of his subjects until he died.
In an era of arranged marriages, men were not censured for taking their pleasure when they found it. In his youth, the King was commendably discreet about such matters, so much so that we know absolutely nothing about his sexual activities, if any, before his accession. As Prince of Wales, he had led a cloistered life and had cultivated a chivalrous attitude towards the opposite sex, seeing himself as the knight errant whose role it was to flirt, offer elegant compliments, and profess undying love. When he came to the throne, women were waiting for him in droves, and freed from the confines of his princely existence, he made the most of his position and took what they offered. In this respect, though he was far from virtuous by modern standards of morality, by the standards of his time, and compared to other princes of the age, he was quite circumspect. Thanks to his discretion, Queen Katherine never knew of these early infidelities, which were fleeting anyway, and as far as Henry was concerned, they had nothing to do with her. His love for her was on a different plane completely.
Having sex was one thing, talking about it quite another. The King was very prudish, and was known to blush at bawdy remarks. He abhorred lightness in married women, even though he was not above pursuing them himself. And from his wife, he expected total fidelity and absolute obedience.
Katherine of Aragon first appeared at court as Queen of England on the day her marriage to the King was proclaimed, 15 June 1509. Henceforth, she would be at Henry's side at all state and court functions. She had already adopted the pomegranate, symbol of fertility, as her personal badge, and now she took the motto 'Humble and Loyal' for her personal device. In the royal palaces of England, an army of carpenters, stonemasons and embroiderers were already carving, chiselling and stitching her initials and Henry's, 'H' and 'K', on every available surface, and her throne was set beside the King's under the rich canopy of estate.
In 1509, Fray Diego described Katherine as 'the most beautiful creature in the world'. Marriage certainly made her seem so. She was twenty-three, and had kept her looks thus far. She was plump, pretty, and still had beautiful red-gold hair that hung below her hips when loose. Yet, within six years, she had lost her youthful bloom and her figure, and in 1515 was described by the Venetian ambassador as 'rather ugly than otherwise'. Sadly, he spoke the truth. By 1515, Katherine had suffered several bitter disappointments and five pregnancies, and these had aged her considerably.
A miniature of her painted by Lucas Hornebolte (now in the National Portrait Gallery) survives from this time, and shows with cruel clarity that the pretty girl depicted in Miguel Sittow's portrait of 1505 had in fact aged almost beyond recognition in ten years. Hornebolte's portrait is of a stout, mature woman with a face overshadowed by anxiety and sadness. The red-gold hair seems to have darkened (although this may be due to pigment in the paint), and is gathered into a bun or plait on the nape of the neck, being surmounted by a Juliet cap, a rare fashion in England at that time.
This miniature should be compared with a portrait painted about five years later, which has been attributed to Johannes Corvus. Several versions exist, the most famous being in the National Portrait Gallery in London. Katherine is here shown wearing the gable hood traditionally associated with her, with long frontlets that would shortly become unfashionable. She is in a rich brown velvet gown with a low square neckline and furred sleeves, and is portly in build, with no pretensions to beauty, having a pale face in which the mouth has a slightly disdainful look and the firm chin juts out. A similar portrait, probably painted from a lost original during the reign of Mary I and until recently in the possession of the Royal Academy of Arts, is kinder, and shows the Queen smiling graciously. Yet the face is the same, that of a woman no longer young, obviously well-bred, with the marks of sadness etched upon it. And the figure, camouflaged in dark velvet furred with ermine with ropes of gold chains slung across the bodice, has likewise gone to ruin, spoiled by frequent childbearing. Perhaps the best existing likeness of Katherine in her later years is the fine miniature in the collection of the Duke of Buccleuch, which shows a stout woman, with large attractive blue eyes, holding a monkey.
Katherine's gradually fading looks were brought increasingly into contrast by the maturing beauty of her younger husband. She selected her ladies for their looks as well as their background, which showed up even more her own ageing face. To compensate for this, she took care to dress herself as magnificently as she could, being, like her mother, 'a ceremonious woman in her attire'. On marrying the King, she had been provided with a sumptuous new wardrobe, most of it in the English fashion. After her marriage, she rarely wore the farthingale, although she did very occasionally appear in Spanish dress. Her new gowns would have had court trains several yards in length, and were of rich materials such as satin, velvet - often with raised gold embroidery - or cloth of gold. If one had wealth, it was not considered vulgar to display it.
Katherine did not dictate fashion, like Anne Boleyn who came after her, but she had a lifelong love of rich clothes and jewellery. In fact, her jewellery was magnificent, and comprised two sets: the crown jewels, pieces that had been worn by former queens of England, and which were not her own but public property; and those items that the King had given her personally, which alone were worth a fortune. She favoured ropes of pearls from which hung suspended pendants made of diamonds in the form of a cross or a St George medal or religious symbols such as the IHS, representing Christ. Like many people at that time, the Queen wore several rings at once, and her corsage was rarely without a jewelled brooch pinned in the centre. On her head, she would usually wear the English gable hood and black veil made popular twenty years before by Elizabeth of York, although on occasion she would wear a different head-dress such as the Flemish hood which 'gave her additional grace', or the Juliet cap already mentioned. Her crown, which was melted down in the time of the Commonwealth, was worn only occasionally, for the great occasions of state; then she would wear her hair loose.
Katherine had all the personal qualities needed for a Queen of England. She had adapted to the customs of her new land, although she would continue actively to further Spanish interests for several years to come. She had strong principles, and set a high moral tone for her household. Beneath her outward air of meekness and submissiveness to her husband, she concealed a tough and tenacious character that would help her to bear the blows later dealt her with calm dignity. Those who served her invariably became devoted to her, for she was both kind and unfailingly courteous. In 1514, she was described by a Flemish diplomat as 'a lady of a lively, kind and gracious disposition, and of quite different complexion and manner from the Queen her sister.' Unlike Juana, Katherine was neither given to tantrums, hysteria or bouts of melancholia, nor was her love for her husband as obsessive as Juana's had been. Yet it was a deep love and would survive until death; in this, as in everything else, the Queen displayed singlemindedness and a trusting naivety.
Katherine had received a good education, comparable to or better than that given to most girls of her rank. Erasmus called her 'a miracle of learning', and while this was probably an exaggeration in the best courtly tradition, there is every indication that there was some truth in it. The Queen was literate, well read and thoroughly conversant with the Scriptures, although her intelligence and her powers of perception were somewhat limited. Nevertheless she was far more erudite than most women at the court, and her qualities were justly recognised by the scholars who gathered there at the King's invitation. Katherine herself thrived in this cultural atmosphere, for she was interested in humanism and matters of religious doctrine and, as she grew older, she turned to intellectual pleasures more and more, finding little to stimulate her mind in the daily round of courtly revels. In 1526, she was very impressed by Erasmus's new book,The Institution of Christian Marriage,which was shown to her by Sir Thomas More. More himself warmly praised the work, and remarked that 'her Majesty the Queen correctly regards it as being of supreme importance'.
Katherine also took an interest in the universities. When she visited Merton College, Oxford, in 1518, she was welcomed by the students with 'as many demonstrations of joy and love as if she had been Juno or Minerva'. She also lent her support to Wolsey's foundation at Oxford, Cardinal College (now Christ Church), and when, in 1523, the King brought his confessor, Dr Longland, to show her the plans for it, she showed herself 'joyous and glad' to learn that she herself was 'particularly prayed for' in the chapel of the new establishment.
Since her arrival in England, when she spoke only Spanish, Katherine had laboured to learn English. It was a long process, for languages were not a strong point with her, but by the time of her marriage to the King she was able to speak English passably well, and her command of it would increase considerably over the following years. Yet she still spoke with a Spanish accent which never left her; this is evident from the phonetic spelling in her letters, in which, for example, Hampton Court becomes 'Antoncurt.'
According to Erasmus, Katherine was 'more pious than learned', and 'as religious and virtuous as words can express'. The great humanist praised her warmly to Henry VIII, saying: 'Your wife spends that time in reading the sacred volume which other princesses occupy in cards and dice.' From her youth, Katherine spent a considerable part of each day at her devotions, hearing mass, kneeling privately at prayer at the prie-dieu in her chamber, reading the Bible (then in Latin, which she understood to a degree) and other religious works, and hearing the Divine Offices of the day, which her chaplains performed in her private apartments. As she grew older, her faith deepened and, since her philosophy was a passive one, she faced up to and accepted what she understood to be the will of God without question or complaint.
By 1519-20, the Queen was leading an almost conventual existence. She withheld herself to some extent from the mainstream of court life, preferring to devote her time to her religious observances, and there are frequent references in the sources for the period to her being in her chapel, or 'just come from hearing mass', or on pilgrimage, our Lady of Walsingham being a favourite shrine of hers. From now on, religion would be the mainstay of her life and her chief consolation.
Her life was nevertheless lived under the public gaze. Nearly everything she did was attended by ceremony and performed according to strict rules of courtly etiquette. She was never alone. As Queen of England, she was given a household of 160 servants, and several of these - usually ladies-in-waiting, maids of honour and pages - were always in attendance upon her. Her meals were frequently taken in public, in full view of the court (and, on occasion, the common people, when they were admitted to watch their betters at meat); sometimes they were served in her apartments, where she was waited on by pages, her ladies standing in attendance behind her.
There were many demands on the Queen's time: charitable enterprises, religious observances, ambassadors come to pay their respects, domestic matters to be discussed and acted upon, and meetings with her own council. Such leisure time as she had she spent mainly at needlework, embroidering tapestries, altar-cloths, vestments, rich gowns and head-dresses for herself, shirts for her husband worked with the Spanish black-work lace that she herself had popularised, linen shifts to wear beneath her gowns, infant layettes on occasion, and clothing for the poor. Sometimes she and her ladies would entertain themselves with music - although there is no record of Katherine herself being able to play any instrument, she certainly enjoyed hearing others - with dancing - she herself would sometimes partner her ladies in the privacy of her chamber - in discussion, or even gambling with cards, dice, backgammon or other table games.
Even her sex life was surrounded by ritual. Traditionally, kings and queens had separate apartments in the royal palaces. If the King wished to sleep with his wife at night - a matter of public interest, since the succession must be assured - he went in procession, escorted to her chamber door by members of his guard and gentlemen of his privy chamber. Katherine, in turn, having been undressed by her ladies, would be sitting up in the great tester bed waiting for him. On the nights the King did not honour her with his company, a maid would occupy a truckle bed at the foot of her bed, but she was banished whenever the King arrived unannounced, as he often did. Then his guards would be posted outside the doors to the Queen's apartments. Henry VIII was very sensitive about security, and any bed he slept in was always made up by his servants according to an elaborate ritual which involved a sword being thrust between the mattress and the feather bed, just in case an intruder had secreted himself there.
As queen, Katherine was more often than not an observer, rather than a participant, in the pageants and entertainments performed at court, even though she had in her teens been a good dancer. But dignity and gravity now sat heavily upon her in public, and probably in private also, and as she grew older, pageants and court balls lost their appeal. Nevertheless, she was always at Henry's side on state occasions or whenever foreign dignitaries visited the court. Indeed, we know very little else of her activities during the middle years of her marriage to the King; in the foreign dispatches and the chronicles of the period, she is very much a background figure, gracing these state occasions but doing little else of note.
Katherine was always an extremely popular queen, partly because her marriage had strengthened the vital commercial links between England and the Low Countries. This, however, was only one reason for the affection in which she was held. The main reason for it lay in her personal qualities, her unfailing graciousness and dignity, and her kindness. Not for nothing was it said of her that she was 'more beloved than any queen who ever reigned'. The English had taken her to their hearts; they rejoiced on her marriage, grieved with her in her sorrows, and - much later - were ready to champion her cause in the face of the King's displeasure.
Henry VIII established the first Renaissance court in England, using a large portion of his father's fortune to finance it and to refurbish the palaces in which it would be housed. The court in those days was a nomadic institution, moving between Greenwich, Richmond, Windsor, Westminster (until the royal apartments were destroyed in the fire of 1512), the Tower of London in the early years of the reign, Eltham Palace, Hampton Court after 1514 and a host of smaller palaces and manor houses. It comprised noblemen, churchmen of every degree, privy councillors, officers of the King's household, gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, the Queen's household, ladies, servants and menials, and could on occasions number several thousand people, especially when most of the aristocracy were in residence with their attendants.
It was a very splendid court; the King was extremely liberal, and enjoyed displaying the riches at his disposal. Following in his father's footsteps, he insisted on the observance of elaborate ceremonial on state occasions, though at other times he preferred to be more relaxed. Venetian envoys visiting the English court in 1515 were astonished at the lack of formality, and delighted when the King himself, while walking in the gardens, actually stopped under their windows and called up to them, then stayed there some time chatting and laughing with them, 'to our very great honour'. These same ambassadors reported to the Venetian Senate that the whole of Henry's court 'glittered with jewels and gold and silver, the pomp being unprecedented'. It was noticed that the Queen's ladies in particular were of 'sumptuous appearance', being very handsome.
Scholars, notably those from Italy, then the hub of European culture, were particularly welcome at the English court. The King wished to surround himself with learned men and bask in their reflected glory, preferring them - according to Erasmus - to the 'young men lost in luxury, or women, or gold-chained nobles'. Sir Thomas More applauded Henry VIII for cultivating all the 'liberal arts', and Erasmus thought that 'under such a King, it may not seem a court, but a temple of the Muses'. When Henry dined, he was attended by writers, divines, humanists, poets and artists, with whom he eagerly conversed and exchanged ideas.
One of the scholars who ranked highest in the King's estimation was Thomas More, a friend of Erasmus and a fellow humanist. A man of upright character with a gentle, dry wit, More was also a brilliant lawyer and well read in theology. In 1516, he published a book entitled Utopia, which described the ideal political state and earned him a generous measure of fame. He was also renowned for his exemplary family life and for his learned daughters, the products of his advanced views on female education. His eldest daughter, Margaret, the future wife of the Protestant writer William Roper, could speak both Latin and Greek. Henry and Katherine admired More, and the King invited him to court, though he only accepted with great reluctance, being unhappy about leaving the peace of his Chelsea home for public life; in later years, Henry would often throw up More's lack of enthusiasm for the court 'in a joke in my face'.
As he had feared, he hated it. 'I am as uncomfortable there as a bad rider is in the saddle,' he wrote. However, the King was 'so courteous and kindly' and did all in his power to make More welcome, singling him out for special friendship and showing he realised what a sacrifice More had made to humour him. 'I should not like to think that my presence had in any way interfered with your domestic pleasures,' he told him, intrigued by this rare, unworldly man who seemed content with his family, his books and his animals.
More's integrity, and his conservatism in matters of religion - he advocated the burning of heretics - appealed to Queen Katherine, and theirs was a friendship that would remain untarnished by events. 'He is an upright and learned man,' the Spanish ambassador would one day say of More, 'and a good servant of the Queen.' When the King and Queen dined privately, they would often send for Thomas More to be 'merry with them', and so much did they enjoy his company that, according to his son-in-law, William Roper, 'he could not once in a month get leave to go home to his wife and children'. The King would frequently summon More to his private study, where the two men would sit for hours discussing astronomy, geometry and divinity.
All of this brought its rewards, of course. In 1518, More was admitted to the Privy Council; three years later he was knighted. Yet he himself had few illusions about his standing at court. When William Roper congratulated his father-in-law on his advancement, More replied: 'Son Roper, I may tell you I have no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head would win the King a castle in France, it should not fail to go off!'
By 1517, Henry VIII's court had a magnificent reputation. 'The wealth and civilisation of the world are here,' enthused the Venetian ambassador; 'I here perceive very elegant manners, extreme decorum and great politeness.' Yet it all had to be paid for, and by 1518, Henry had dug so deep into the fortune left by his father to finance his pleasures and his court that his treasury was emptying at an alarming rate. This meant that for a time there would have to be fewer pageants, fewer tournaments, fewer entertainments than in earlier years. It is even possible that the King had grown a little bored with these things. He seems also to have got into bad company at this time, and whereas previously he had won praise for 'putting a silence on all brawlers', in 1519 he was attracting criticism for preferring the company of 'youths of evil counsel, intent on their own benefit, to the detriment, hurt and discredit of his Majesty' rather than seeking the society of 'demure, sober and sad' persons. In the eyes of many, these young bloods were bringing scandal on the throne by encouraging their young master to go amongst his people in disguise and behave in 'a foolish manner'. Their habits were scathingly described as 'French', and they were said to indulge in 'French vices'. They poked fun at 'all the estates of England, even the ladies and gentlemen of the court'. The King was for a time coming increasingly under their influence, and his Council was resolved to put an end to his associating with them. Fortunately, the Council prevailed, and Henry agreed to banish the offenders from court, having been convinced that his hitherto glorious reputation was at stake.
The court itself was an extravagant, wasteful institution. It moved from palace to palace so that each royal residence it had occupied could be cleansed. There were carpets on the floors of the royal apartments only; elsewhere there were rushes, which were anything but sweet-smelling when the court had been in residence for a few weeks. Gentlemen did not always bother to use the privies, which were primitive anyway; they sometimes urinated on the rushes, as did the many pets owned by the courtiers. The food waste from the kitchens mounted up; in the summer, it stank, and the stench from the privies on hot days was terrible indeed. Thus the court had to move on, so that the palace might be cleansed. This arrangement meant that a skeleton staff had to be maintained in all the palaces.
Cardinal Wolsey, the King's chief minister, was concerned about the way in which the royal household was run, and anxious to make economies, especially after the crippling of the Exchequer by the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520, when the courts of England and France met amid scenes of unprecedented splendour. Thus, in 1526, after much research, the Cardinal drew up the Eltham Ordinances. The Ordinances, which were strictly enforced, rid the court of hangers-on and laid down rules of etiquette and practice, streamlining finances and cutting back on expenditure. Restrictions were placed on the number of retainers allowed those visiting the court, and also on the number of pets permitted (not only dogs but birds and monkeys were favoured by the courtiers); scullions were forbidden to go about the kitchens naked, and were given new clothes. The King's servants were to wear the Tudor livery of green and white at all times. Even the food was rationed, although fairly generously: from this time on, the Queen's maids would each breakfast on two small loaves and a gallon of ale. The result was a far more efficiently run household and a saving of both money and resources.
During the early years of the reign, when the young King and Queen passed their time in 'disports', there were hunts, tournaments, banquets, balls, sporting events, and 'disguisings'. The latter were elaborate masquerades in which the King and his gentlemen would dress up and disguise themselves - sometimes in the strange costumes of other lands - and then come upon the Queen and her ladies unawares, dance for her, or perform other scintillating feats, and then disclose their identity, 'whereat the Queen and her ladies were greatly amazed'. It afforded Henry great amusement to come thus attired upon Katherine and see her astonishment. It was a game of which, in his youth, he never tired; and she, for her part, never spoilt his pleasure by disclosing that she knew who it was, even when these 'disguisings' had been going on for several years.
But perhaps the most popular and spectacular of the entertainments staged for the pleasure of the Tudor court was the pageant, an early dramatic form. Pageants followed a set pattern: the male participants would enter the hall clad in matching costumes with a certain significance; then the ladies, in complementary attire, would emerge from a kind of stage on wheels, which could be made to resemble a castle, a forest, a mountain, the sea, or anything else that the King's Master of the Revels could devise. Pageants usually followed allegorical or classical themes, such as 'The Garden of Hope', or they could be based on English legends such as Robin Hood. When the ladies had appeared, the gentlemen would invariably show off their prowess in a mock fight, then the ladies would descend and dance with them as a reward. Often the participants were disguised. The King frequently took part in these pageants, partnering his sister Mary since the Queen preferred to watch rather than join in.
The pageants give us some idea of the opulence of the Tudor court: the materials used for the costumes were all of the richest quality, and purpose-made; the gold and jewels were all genuine. The King's intent was not entirely frivolous. Visiting princes, ambassadors, and other foreigners watching them would quickly gain the impression that the King of England was extremely wealthy and that his court was the most splendid in Christendom. Wealth and its trappings were evidence of political and military strength, and Henry used pageantry to build up the reputation of the Tudor monarchy in Europe.
The first pageant to be staged in Henry VIII's reign took place at Christmas 1509, when twelve men, dressed as Robin Hood and his Merry Men danced with the Queen's ladies in Katherine's chamber to the music of a consort of minstrels - Robin Hood later turned out to be the King in disguise. From then on, pageants were held whenever there was something to celebrate at court, and often when there was not. Sometimes the male dancers wore masks, which would be removed after the dancing by the ladies to the accompaniment of much laughter and flirtation.
The pageants to celebrate the birth of a son to Henry and Katherine in 1511 were particularly elaborate: one took the form of a mountain glistening at night' with a golden tree adorned with Tudor roses and pomegranates. The celebrations for the birth of the prince continued for well over a month, culminating in the day when the palace doors were thrown open to the common people, so that they could watch the pageants. Unfortunately, matters got rather out of hand when they rushed into the hall and 'rent, tore and spoiled' the stage and its props. Pandemonium reigned as the courtiers ran for the shelter of the thrones on the dais, but the King was enjoying himself enormously, playing the role of a benevolent prince indulging his subjects. Laughing, he stood unresisting as they stripped him down to his hose and doublet, carrying off his clothes as souvenirs. The other courtiers had no choice but to follow their monarch's example, and they too were forced to suffer the indignity of losing their clothes and jewels; the unfortunate Sir Thomas Knyvet was stripped stark naked, and had to climb a pillar for safety! But when the mob began to despoil the ladies' costumes, the King called a halt. Fortunately, the people obeyed him, and the day ended in 'mirth and gladness', with Henry's popularity greater than ever.
Pageants were staged frequently during the early years of the King's reign. Perhaps the most original was that which took place on May Day 1515, for the benefit of the Venetian ambassadors, when Henry and Katherine, who was richly robed in the Spanish fashion, entertained their guests to a woodland picnic in Greenwich park, which had been made to resemble Robin Hood's hideout in Sherwood Forest. Henry and his nobles appeared dressed in Lincoln green as Robin and his men, and carried bows. Yet this was not a simple rustic idyll, for no detail had been left to chance: singing birds in cages had been hidden in the trees, and 'carolled most sweetly'; the court musicians sat in a bower, and the tables set beneath the trees groaned with a feast of gastronomic splendour; an archery contest took place for the visitors' entertainment. Afterwards, a procession formed and the May Queen and the court were brought back to the palace in triumphal cars adorned with figures of giants, escorted by the King's guard. Music played, courtiers sang, and the King and Queen brought up the rear with an estimated crowd of '25,000 persons' (a slight exaggeration, perhaps).
After 1518, there were fewer pageants, due to the depleted state of the King's finances and also to his growing preference for Italianmasques. The last opulent court pageant of these years took place in May 1527, to celebrate a new treaty between England and France. On this occasion, a banqueting house was set up in the tiltyard at Greenwich, where the King and Queen sat under canopies of estate- A masque was performed first, after which a pageant in the form of an artificial mountain was performed in the great hall of the palace- One of the participants was the King's daughter, the Princess Mary, who, like her ladies, was dressed in Roman fashion with robes of 'cloth of gold, and so many precious stones that the splendour and radiance dazzled the sight'.
Masques differed from pageants in that there was more plot to them; whereas a pageant was merely a tableau with music and dancing, a masque incorporated a story, and was the forerunner of the modern musical. The first masque ever seen in England was performed at court in January 1512, and greatly impressed the King: in it, the participants were disguised by visors and caps of gold and told their tale with singing and dancing. In 1517, he and Katherine watched a masque entitled 'Troilus and Cryseide', based on an old tale made popular by Geoffrey Chaucer, at Eltham Palace as part of the Christmas festivities. After that masques were staged more frequently at court, and eventually replaced pageants as its chief form of dramatic entertainment.
Pageants and masques were often used to entertain foreign guests. Henry VIII always extended a magnificent welcome to visiting princes, ambassadors and churchmen, and was anxious to impress them with the splendour of his court. The Queen was always present, unless she was in an advanced state of pregnancy, and played her part as hostess, being particularly skilled at the courteous conversation required in diplomatic circles. In 1515, when she received the Venetian ambassadors, who had come to present to herthe Doge's compliments, they spoke to her, they reported home, 'in good Spanish, which pleased her more than I can tell you'. Katherinespent some time discussing Spanish affairs with them, and was happy to share her memories of her mother, Queen Isabella.
Central to this lavish entertaining was the court banquet, the first of which took place in February 1510, when Henry and Katherine entertained all the foreign ambassadors then in England at the Palace of Westminster. The King led the Queen in procession into the great hall, followed by her ladies, the ambassadors, and all the nobility. Henry himself showed the ambassadors to their seats, then sat down beside Katherine at the high table on the dais, beneath the canopy of estate. However, he would not remain seated for long, for he was soon walking around the tables, chatting to his wife and guests. He then disappeared and came back wearing Turkish robes with a troupe of mummers in tow, who proceeded to perform for the assembled company.
The food at such banquets would have consisted of several courses, each with several dishes. Meat was served throughout the year, except in Lent, when fish was the main entree. The meat or fish would be spiced and served in a sauce, and accompanied by bread soaked in gravy. There were few vegetables; however, Queen Katherine would sometimes have a salad in season, which she had introduced into England from Spain; her salad, however, would have been served hot, as raw vegetables were considered dangerous. Desserts were elaborate: fruit pies with decorated crusts, 'subtleties' of sugar resembling castles or coats of arms, and marchpane comfits. Wine flowed freely throughout the meal, as well as ale or mead for the lower tables. After the banquet had ended, the guests chatted as the tables were cleared for the pageant which usually followed. When the entertainment had ended, there was dancing for up to two hours, to the music of a consort of flute, harp, fife and violette, then spiced wine or hippocras was served, after which the King and Queen would retire to bed. Sometimes, the King himself would serve the food at a banquet, and at other times, when the Queen was heavily pregnant, he would bring the guests into her private apartments after dinner, to be entertained with music, conversation, 'disguisings' and dancing. Katherine never forgot to praise Henry's munificence on such occasions.
No effort was spared to make guests feel welcome. When Henry's sister, Queen Margaret of Scotland, visited London in 1515, Katherine sent a white palfrey to her for her state entry into the capital. The Queen of Scots had her own London residence at Scotland Yard near Westminster, but it was not ready for her, so Baynard's Castle was placed at her disposal. The King organised jousts in her honour, and a lavish banquet in the Queen's chamber at Greenwich.
In 1518 the French ambassadors were entertained to a banquet consisting of 260 dishes, followed by a 'very sumptuous' pageant. In 1519, Katherine herself hosted a banquet for the Duke of Longueville at her manor house at Havering-atte-Bower in Essex, a house once owned by several medieval queens. The King was present at this 'sumptuous' feast, which the Queen had arranged in 'the liberallest manner'. When it ended, Henry thanked her 'heartily', and the French guests were full of praise. Six weeks later Henry himself hosted a banquet at Newhall in Essex for these same envoys; afterwards, the Queen unmasked eight dancers, who all turned out to be 'somewhat aged; the youngest was at least fifty!' On the following day, Katherine again acted as hostess at yet another banquet.
Tournaments, too, were often staged in honour of specific events, and they could go on for some considerable time. One joust in November 1510 lasted for several days, during which 'the King broke more staves than any other'. In 1511, the Queen watched the jousts, held at Westminster to celebrate the birth of her son, from a pavilion hung with cloth of gold and purple velvet and embroidered with the letters 'H' and 'K' in fine gold. Her young husband appeared in the lists as 'Coeur Loyal' (Sir Loyal Heart), being her champion, and this device was emblazoned for all the world to see on his armour and his horse's accoutrements.
Thereafter, the King held tournaments frequently, being an active participant at every one. Usually they were staged in the spring, to celebrate May Day, but they also took place in winter and at other times of the year. Jousts were usually held 'in honour of the ladies', who often followed medieval tradition and gave their favours to their chosen knights. At one joust, Queen Katherine and her ladies received the men's jousting apparel as 'largesse'. In December 1524, the Queen took part in a pageant that heralded the commencement of a tournament at Greenwich, sitting in a prefabricated castle in the tiltyard. Two elderly knights then appeared and craved her leave 'to break spears'; however, when Katherine 'praised their courage' and gave her consent, they threw off their robes to reveal a laughing Henry and his friend and brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk.
Tournaments took place mainly in the spring, Easter was spent at Windsor, followed by the feast of St George with its attendant Garter ceremonies, then there were more jousts on May Day. In the autumn came the King's customary progress, which combined a break from court routine with the opportunity to see his realm and meet his subjects, as well as to avail himself of the hunting to be had in other parts. In 1511, the King and Queen made the first of these progresses, visiting the West Midlands, where they saw 'a goodly stage play', a mystery play performed by guildsmen at Coventry.
The annual routine of the court culminated in the twelve days of merrymaking that constituted a Tudor Christmas. Henry VIII usually kept the festival at Greenwich Palace. Christmas Day itself was then a holy day, devoted to acts of worship, but the days after it were given over to feasting and 'disports', the King celebrating Christ's birth with 'much nobleness and open court'. The festivities reached their climax on Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany, when they were usually brought to an end with a sumptuous banquet.
Gifts were exchanged on New Year's Day, not on Christmas Day. On New Year's Day 1510, Katherine's first Yuletide gift from Henry was a beautifully illuminated missal inscribed in his own hand: 'If your remembrance be according to my affection, I shall not be forgotten in your daily prayers, for I am yours, Henry R., forever.' Touched by this, Katherine immediately added a further inscription of her own beneath: 'By daily proof you shall me find to be to you both loving and kind.'
At Christmas, the court was usually thrown open to the public, who were allowed in to watch the 'goodly and gorgeous mummeries'; festive fare was distributed, boar's head and roast peacock served in its feathers being the chief meats at this season. There were pageants, disguisings and feasts, and carols danced and sung in the great hall while the Yule log crackled on the hearth, 'to the great rejoicing of the Queen and the nobles'.
Unusually at Christmas 1517, the court was closed, but there was a very good reason for it. Plague was a notorious killer, and during an epidemic drastic measures had to be taken to avoid the spread of infection, for it was no respecter of persons. And plague struck often, particularly in sixteenth-century summers. The plague that had hit London in the July of 1517 was of a type known to be extremely deadly- the sweating sickness, a scourge prevalent only in Tudor times, having first appeared in England in 1485; some saw it as a judgement of God upon the usurping dynasty.
Illness in any form horrified and disgusted Henry VIII, but the sweating sickness reduced him to a state of abject fear. It was a loathsome disease: the victim would suddenly feel unwell, break out into a profuse sweat, and continue to sweat until a crisis was reached, at which point death usually occurred. This could happen with frightening speed, taking only three to four hours from first symptoms to last breath. Recovery was rare, and those that did recover were often weakened for life. Above all, the sweating sickness was highly infectious, and spread with terrifying rapidity.
At the first sign of plague in July, the King had given orders for the court to leave the capital and move into the country, which he much preferred anyway, leaving behind him strict instructions that those people who had been in contact with the disease were under no circumstances to approach him. There were fears for a time that Queen Katherine had contracted the dreaded plague, as she complained of feeling unwell for a few days, though she soon recovered. By September, the plague was spreading further still, and the death toll was rising. Henry, fearful for the succession, as he still had no son to succeed him, and petrified of catching the disease, took himself and the Queen, with only a few attendants, off to a 'remote and unusual habitation' that has not been identified, and there he remained, whilst the sweating sickness continued to ravage his kingdom. By December, however, it was on the wane, although it was deemed prudent of the King to keep 'no solemn Christmas' that year because there was still some risk of infection.
As well as presiding over a glittering, cultivated court, Katherine of Aragon also administered her own household. This numbered some 160 persons, many of them Spaniards who had come to England with her in 1501. There were also some English officers and servants in her entourage, because the King preferred her to be served by English people, and on her marriage several members of her former household had returned to Spain, including the chamberlain, Juan de Diero. This was not so much the King's doing as the Queen's, for many of those dismissed her service at that point had in the days of her widowhood grown insolent, not treating her with the respect she should have been shown. Nevertheless, at Katherine's command they were all paid the arrears of salary due to them, though she did ask her father to administer a mild rebuke in certain cases.
After her marriage to the King, the chief officer in the Queen's household was Lord Mountjoy, the celebrated humanist, who became her chamberlain. The King was indulgent enough to allow her to retain most of her Spanish ladies, although they were now supplemented by the wives of some of the great English nobles. Katherine had grown very attached to a number of her Spanish attendants, several of whom would remain with her until she died, but the one she favoured the most, 'whom she loves more than any other mortal', was Maria de Salinas, who had once been a maid of honour to Queen Isabella. Maria was the daughter of a Castilian grandee, Don Martin de Salinas, by Dona Josepha Gonzalez de Salas. She had come to England with Katherine in 1501, and the two girls had quickly struck up a lasting friendship, which was cemented by sharing the enforced privations of Katherine's long widowhood. In 1509 Katherine told her new husband that she wished to keep Maria as 'the girl desires of all things to remain with me'. Henry VIII agreed to Maria staying on, and never resented the influence she had upon his wife, who treated her as her chief confidante.
In 1516, Maria de Salinas became a naturalised subject of the King of England as a preliminary to her marriage in June that year to William, Lord Willoughby d'Eresby, who had been courting her for some time. After her wedding, she left the court, but it was gratifying for the Queen to know that her friend, whose earlier betrothal had been broken because she could not give the girl a dowry, had at last made a good marriage. The Queen may have attended the christening of Maria's son Henry in 1517, and it is probable that she was godmother to the daughter born two years later and named Katherine in her honour. Sadly, Lord Willoughby died in 1526, leaving his widow with two young children to rear. She was still close to the Queen, and probably visited Katherine at court during her widowhood. Later still, she would brave the King's wrath for the sake of her friendship with the Queen.
When Maria de Salinas left court upon her marriage, Katherine turned to another lady with whom she had formed a close friendship, Margaret Pole, the niece of Edward IV and Richard III, and, some said, the rightful heiress of the Plantagenets. In 1513 the King had restored to Margaret Pole part of the inheritance forfeited under the Act of Attainder passed on her father the Duke of Clarence in 1478, prior to his death in the Tower - by drowning in a butt of malmsey, it was said. Henry obviously had no reservations about Margaret Pole's loyalty to the Crown at that point, for he created her Countess of Salisbury, a title she should have inherited in 1499 on the execution of her brother, the Earl of Warwick. Katherine had always felt a sense of guilt because Warwick's death had paved the way for her coming to England, and she had singled out his sister for special friendship. This was warmly reciprocated, and in later years the two women would cherish a shared hope that their children would marry and thus further cement the bond between Tudor and Plantagenet.
In 1513, Margaret Pole was forty, and had been a widow since 1505. She had several children, of whom the most gifted was Reginald Pole, who also benefitted from the King's generosity when Henry arranged for, and funded out of his own privy purse, the boy's education at Oxford, where Reginald justified the faith of his royal patron by obtaining an honours degree after only two years of study. His mother was a learned woman, whose erudition was much respected by the Queen, and, in later years, Katherine would choose Lady Salisbury as her daughter Mary's state governess, knowing that her many qualities made her eminently suitable for such a post.
In 1513, Katherine had to enlist the aid of the King's chief minister Thomas Wolsey when she wished to rid herself of a former lady-in- waiting, Francesca de Caceres, who had been in her entourage prior to her marriage to the King, and was now asking to be readmitted to her service. Francesca had once intrigued with Fuensalida to get rid of Fray Diego, and had been privy to most of Fuensalida's information about the time when Katherine had foolishly succumbed, to whatever degree, to the charms of the friar. Much of what Francesca knew was mere supposition, but the Queen felt that nevertheless it would be 'perilous and dangerous' to employ her, or even to send her abroad with a reference recommending her to a foreign princess. She dared not risk having her former maid of honour gossiping about that unhappy episode with Fray Diego at foreign courts. Happily, Wolsey, who was probably unaware of the real reason for the Queen's concern, arranged for Francesca to retun to Spain, where she could do least harm.
Fray Diego himself remained in the Queen's service for five years after her marriage to the King. 'I hope to keep him all the time I shall be able,' she told her father. However, it was not long before he began to cause trouble once more. He did not trust Ferdinand's ambassador, Luis Caroz, believing that Caroz had come to England with the prime objective of having him removed from the court. As a result, though he behaved towards the ambassador with elaborate courtesy, he did not deceive Caroz, who rightly deduced that the friar was 'very suspicious and fearful of me'. Undoubtedly, he concluded, 'his mind is not quite right.'
Fray Diego still retained considerable influence over the Queen, but this was nowadays confined mainly to spiritual matters. However, he kept her 'engaged' to such an extent that it was difficult for Caroz and others to obtain an audience with her and, so the friar believed, criticise him to her face. Lesser members of her new household went in fear of Fray Diego, and dared not cross him, as they knew he could have them dismissed if he so pleased. Caroz saw what was going on, and informed Ferdinand's secretary of state that he had 'never seen a more wicked person in my life'. He had tried to warn the Queen about him, he said, but Katherine would not listen.
This state of affairs continued until 1514, when several members of the Queen's household went to the King with complaints about Fray Diego, accusing him of fornicating with women of the court. Henry at once confronted the friar, and warned him that such behaviour would not be tolerated in one so close to the Queen. Fray Diego was highly indignant: 'If I am badly used, the Queen is still more badly used!' he retorted, pointedly referring to Henry's latest mistress. At this, the King's anger erupted, and it was not long before the friar was summarily dismissed from the Queen's service and ordered to return to Spain. Shocked and angry, he left in November, but not before he had written a letter to the King, reminding him how he had served Katherine faithfully for seven years, 'enduring evil for her sake, even lack of meat and drink, of clothes and fire'. He swore he was no fornicator: 'Never, within your kingdom, have I had to do with women.' He had been 'condemned unheard', and those who had accused him were 'disreputable rogues'. But Henry was implacable, and the friar's protestations only served to confirm his belief that Fray Diego was a liar as well as a womaniser.
As for the Queen, she lifted no finger to save her confessor. She too must have been shocked by what she had heard about him, and her submission to the King's will was absolute; from henceforth she would suffer no man but her husband to rule her.