Chapter Ninety-Four: Catalina of Aragon

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6th of January 1536 - Richmond Palace

A delighted laugh escaped Queen Anne as she held onto Princess Beatrice's little hands and helped her walk across the carpeted floor of her apartments; the fire roaring as it continued to lightly snow outside and her ladies were gathered to attend to her. 

While her elder children were in their lessons, Anne had decided to take a break from her royal duties to spend some much-desired time with her youngest. 

Her elder two children were currently learning French, Swedish and Danish at their mother's most eager request; it would only be a matter of time before Beatrice would be joining them in their lessons. 

Anne had been firm in wanting to make sure that her children were well educated, she would have no one think that they were fools and she encouraged that their educations should be as broad as possible. 

Alexander was to be King of England one day and Elizabeth was destined to be the Queen of Sweden through her marriage; it was imperative that they both were prepared for such greatness. 

As for Beatrice, it appeared that her daughter was destined to marry into the french royal family even if she would never be a Queen like her older sister. 

It had been Henry that had written to her that he had achieved her great desire to see one of their daughters married to a French Prince; the new Duke of Anjou had been offered as a future husband for their youngest daughter. 

Francis himself had offered the match stating that there could be no finer bride for his newest son that the daughter of Queen Anne once the negotiations had concluded on Naples being transferred into Valois hands. 

The new King Charles IV of Naples would be wed to Maria of Austria when they were both of age, the seven-year-old would make the trip to Naples in the coming years when she was old enough to do so. 

No doubt Isabella would be doing as Anne now did to preparing her daughters for the future roles that they would occupy; Spain was in dire need of strong allies especially now that Charles was gone and his desire for war dying with him.

The doors to her chamber opened and Anne paused in her movement looking up to see her father entering, he looked rather sweaty and she could only imagine what could be so important that he had rushed to her. 

"Your Majesty," the Duke of Wiltshire greeted, he bowed his head low to his daughter and prepared to break the news that they had all been expecting for some time. 

It had been him that had come across the messenger that had just arrived from Kimbolton with the message from the royal doctors. 

"What is it?" Anne asked allowing Lady Bryan to come forward to collect Beatrice while she turned her full attention to her father, her heart pounding in her chest knowing that her next decision would be vital depending on what he had to say. 

She could see from his face alone that this was a serious matter, there was only one thing that could bring such concern. 

"It's the Spanish Infanta, they say she has not long left," Thomas stated passing on the message that he had been given before sending the messenger to get warm and get something to eat while his horse was stabled. 

At last, they would have that wretched woman off their books and Thomas knew that they had to act accordingly even if Spain was in no position to threaten them now. 

Joanna had many children that still lived, it any one of them took offence to their treatment of Catalina then they could find themselves fighting off an invasion just as peace had been called on the continent. 

It was looking at Beatrice that made up Anne's mind for her as she pondered her decisions, one that she knew would not be popular and a kindness that her former rival would have never offered to her if their roles were reversed. 

"Prepare my horse," Anne ordered taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders; it would take her a couple of hours to ride to Kimbolton Castle not that the weather would make the trip easy. 

Anne would do this, for her stepdaughter that was not here to say her own goodbyes and would likely only hear of her mother's death in the weeks to come. 

***

"Anne, it is far too dangerous for you to make this trip. You are the Queen of England," Thomas pleaded with his daughter once she had changed into her riding gear and started down towards the royal stables. 

Members of the court bowing to their Queen as she passed with two of her ladies prepared to make this journey with her as well as several guards. 

"I shall make this trip in your stead, if there must be a witness to her death," Thomas insisted, despite his advancing age he would willing make this trip on her behalf. 

He might not be as young as he once was but he was not entirely useless, the cold made his bones ache and he shivered against the cold of the afternoon as they walked out of the hallway and down into the stable yard. 

"That is not why I must do so," Anne stated with a shake of her head, she eyed her horse and knew this journey would not be easy. 

There was no way she would condemn anyone else to her folly, least of all her aging father who would be turning sixty in the next year or so; he would certainly catch a chill if he attempted this ride. 

"I do this because I am a mother, and I am a daughter... I know she would not offer this kindness to me if our roles were reversed but I refuse to be the kind of woman that she is," Anne insisted trying to explain her actions. 

It pained her greatly to know that her children would one day leave England and she would never see them again; they would not be here when she passed from this life into god's hands. 

Death seemed like such a lonely concept to Anne, something that she wished to spare her former rival who despite all her faults did not deserve to die alone. 

"My Lord Cromwell," Anne addressed turning to the chief minister, her dark eyes scrutinising him as she bid him to come closer so that she might give her orders before she departed. 

If she was going to leave then she wanted to entrust that the country was in safe hands until her return, Anne would not risk England especially when they had enemies that would happily still see them fall. 

"I leave our realm in your capable hands until I return, do not disappoint me," Anne told him before turning away and approaching her horse, she mounted him quickly before taking the reigns from the stable boy. 

With one last look at her father and Cromwell, Anne rode out of Richmond knowing that when she returned that she would bring news of the death of Catalina of Aragon.

***

6th of January 1536 - Kimbolton Castle

It took Anne and her entourage longer than expected to reach the castle that Catalina had called home during her illness; her residency here an act of kindness on Anne's part rather than see her suffer in discomfort at a nunnery. 

Sir Richard Wingfield greeted them upon their arrival along with his second wife, Bridget Wiltshire, who had once served as one of Anne's most trusted ladies and a close friend and neighbour to the Queen. 

"Your Majesty," Bridget greeted with a smile, she bowed low as she spoke and had to remind herself that this was not the Anne that had been her most loyal friend when they were children. 

Anne was now a Queen, one that had done well to manage the regency while her husband was aboard and making sure that the common folk were not buried by their taxes.

"Bridget, how are the children?" Anne asked recalling the rather large brood that her friend had with her husband, she honestly had no idea how Bridget managed especially with all of the pregnancies so close together. 

She moved to pull Bridget into a hug, unable to recall the last time that they had seen one another; it had certainly been too long in Anne's opinion. 

"They are very well, Your Majesty... they certainly keep us on our toes," Bridget replied returning Anne's show of affection, she moved to dust some of the snow flakes from the top of Anne's head and shoulders. 

The weather certainly wasn't helping things right now, the snow was falling heavier and Bridget was certainly surprised to see that Anne had managed to make it through the snow storm. 

It looked like it could last for days and Bridget had no desire to leave the warmth of her home for any reason.

"Perhaps Your Majesty would like some warm refreshments?" Sir Richard offered, he had ordered his cooks to prepare for a royal quest when he had heard that the Queen herself had made the journey. 

It had never occurred to him that it would be Anne that would come to see the fallen Queen's final moments in this world; he had always assumed that she would avoid such matters and send a trusted counsellor to play witness. 

"Maybe later, there is no point in putting off the inevitable," Anne declined before signalling for Richard to lead the way, there was no point in delaying especially when there was so little time left. 

There was no doubt in her mind that Catalina would not be expecting any visitors, or at least she would not be expecting Anne to show up in her final hours. 

"How has the lady been?" Anne enquired as she followed Richard up the stairs, she had been kept informed on most developments since Catalina had been brought here but her mind was fuzzy on details especially when she had been so focused on state affairs. 

The last she could recall Catalina had been recovering from her bout of illness, seeming mostly improved as she returned to mass and fasting when she could. 

"The lady was much improved since our last letter until maybe the end of last month when she relapsed, she had difficulty sitting up, she couldn't eat or sleep well for days and the lady complained of a terrible pain in her stomach," Richard explained with a shake of his head. 

He knew a few women who had complained of such things, many did not live very long and he had known for certain when he had sent the messenger to the Queen that this would be Catalina's final days on God's green earth. 

"All was well today, it was only this afternoon that her health seemed to worsen, we called for the Bishop of Llandaff to administer extreme unction," Richard continued making their way down the hallway towards the room where Catalina had been placed. 

The one place that she seemed to spend most of her time since she arrived, even when she was confined to her bed because of her illness. 

Dr. Ortiz bowed to the Queen from his position outside of Catalina's room, having stepped outside while she received her last rites and wanting to give her some peace as there was little that could be done for her now.

Standing by the door, which was ajar, Anne could see her former rival from where she was standing and she would not deny that it was a rather pitiful sight.

 Catalina lay in her bed, dressed only in the hair shirt of the Order of St. Francis and her smock, which seemed to be hanging off her body that appeared to be nothing but skin and bones. 

Instead of looking at a woman who had only recently turned fifty, Catalina looked several decades older; Anne almost didn't wish to believe that this was the woman that had once been in her position. 

Maria de Salinas was at her bedside, permission granted by Anne for the former lady in waiting to Catalina to return to her former mistress in her final days when Maria had learned that she deathly unwell. 

Although from what Anne had read in Richard's letter, Catalina had been far from welcoming of her return especially considering it was Maria's letters that had led to her fall from grace. 

Maria offered a polite nod of her head as Anne approached the bed, neither speaking as Bishop of Llandaff finished what he was doing; his words seeming to wash over Catalina who seemed almost unable to hear him. 

It was only once the bishop had finished that Catalina seemed to realise that she had company, her eyes opened and although her vision was blurry, she could not mistake who was at the end of her bed. 

"Hello Katherine," Anne greeted softly, her voice calm and she offered a nod of her head to the bishop in acknowledgement of his bow to her before he left the room to speak with the doctor. 

Anne moved around the side of the bed opposite to where Maria had stationed herself, her dark eyes taking in what Catalina's illness had done to her body. 

This surely could not be the woman that had raised the army while pregnant to send them into battle against the Scots when they dared attack when henry was on campaign. 

A moment or two passed as Catalina blinked her eyes, her vision slowly becoming clearer as she stared up at the woman that had ruined her life. 

"Get out," Catalina hissed, her breathing heavy and she wished for the strength to slap Anne across the face for daring to come into her presence while she was on her death bed.

Surely Anne did not come here to gloat, she had won wasn't that enough; there was nothing that could be said that hadn't already transpired between the two of them. 

Unphased by Catalina's words, Anne pulled the chair at the bed side closer to the bed and took a seat; she rubbed her cold hands together as she glanced around the room. 

There was a roaring fire going and the lodgings seemed rather comfortable, it was a lot comfier than the accommodation that Henry had probably set her up with once she had been caught plotting against him. 

"Sir Richard, I do believe I shall take that warm refreshment now... it is rather chilly in here," Anne noted with a smile, she refused to allow Catalina to upset her when she was actually doing the woman a favour even if she didn't see it. 

It would be Anne that wrote to Mary to inform her of her mother's passing, she would be able to pass on any final words that Catalina might have for her daughter if she had not the chance to compose a message of some kind for her. 

Maria sniffled a laugh at Anne's words, a hand moving to cover her mouth seeing that Catalina's bitter order; she had been at the mercy of many such words since she had arrived here in October. 

She had missed the birth of her first grandchild to be here at Catalina's side, although her daughter had understood and had written to her when little Henry Brandon had been born. 

"I thought you might like to hear some of the letters that I have received from Mary, she's very in Florence with the children and she says the weather has been rather fair," Anne said signalling for Madge to approach so that she might have the letters that she then placed on her lap. 

Catalina seemed to perk up at the mention of her only child, the daughter that had long since left these shores and she would never seen again. 

Her heart ached knowing that her darling Mary was a mother, it was perhaps her one regret that she might never get to see the children that her daughter would have. 

"This one is dated October 3rd, she writes that she is very happy and contented to share the news that her son has been born that day," Anne said picking up the letter from the pile that she had brought with her. 

It was something that she thought that Catalina would like to hear, especially since Mary was not here to do so herself; the younger woman had admitted that she hadn't gotten around to writing to her mother since she was afraid what she might reply with.

"A boy?" Catalina whispered in awe, her voice almost lost to the sounds of the storm outside and she couldn't quite believe such a thing had occurred; a small smile appeared on her paled, wrinkled face at the news. 

Her daughter had a son, an heir for her husband on her second try after a healthy daughter; she was so proud, she prayed to the almighty that Mary knew how proud she was of her. 

"Yes, Mary says that she has named him Giuliano for Ippolito's father and he is very healthy, and has quite a set of lungs on him," Anne told her with a kind smile, she tried to push back the lump in her throat as she saw such joy on Catalina's face. 

She vowed that she would store each moment of this in her mind so that she might write back to tell Mary, that her mother was so happy to hear of her life and it had brought her joy in her final hours. 

And that was how they sat for the next couple of hours, Anne reading the letters that Mary had sent to her while she was travelling; her experiences in Milan and the joys that she had found in running her own household in Florence. 

There were tales of Lucrezia and Giuliano that both brought smiles to Catalina's face and tears to her eyes at the fact that she would never get to meet her grandchildren in person. 

Slowly as the seventh of January rolled in and the storm outside seemed to grow even worse, Catalina's health rapidly started to deteriorate and there was a crackling, wet sound that could be heard with every breath that she took. 

Finally, it came time to set down the letters that Mary had written, Anne took a deep breath before reaching to take her cold pale hand in her own. 

Maria was seated on her other side, holding on to Catalina's hand as she had done many times before but this time with tears in her eyes. 

And that's how the two of them remained, both sitting in silence as Catalina of Aragon, Dowager Princess of Wales and former Queen of England breathed her last. 

Her eyes staring up at the ceiling unseeing with thoughts of her daughter and her grandchildren on her mind as she slowly slipped away; a single tear tricklingly from her eye for the life she never had as she passed into God's hands.


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