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Catherine, Beloved Queen IV

© Wendy J. Dunn

The morning light lessened all around Catalina, dulling the silken lustre of the robes she wore, and the peacock colours of cloaks worn by the crowd of courtiers going up ahead. Concerned, Catalina lifted her gaze to study the darkening sky. Edged now as if with cloth of gold, dense, black storm cloud almost covered the sun.

A large flock of sea birds weaved their way through diminishing streamers of sunlight, streamers escaping from tiny crevices in cloud already fast sealing up. In less than an eye blink, beating their wings against wind currents, the land bound birds were Minos-touched, the next eye-blink, merged with the increasing darkness. Flying overhead, their loud cries sounded like incessant warning.

With the wind gathering momentum, an aeolian whirr buzzed Catalina's ears and suddenly she found herself fighting to keep in place the fine veil covering her face, a veil so fine that it offered no protection from the wind carried salt sprays. Blinking away salt sting, almost forcing Catalina to sense her way around the corner of a white stone building, she crinkled her nose at the smell of refuse. Her eyesight clearing, she glanced over her shoulder to see her attendants similarly afflicted by worsening conditions, watching her namesake- struggling to control not only her own veil but also the trail of the princess's gown. Dona Elvira's troubles were even worse. Walking alongside her husband, she tripped over her dragging skirts; Dona Elvira's husband quickly grabbed her, preventing her from falling.

Catalina averted her gaze, suppressing an urge to laugh. Only to have her amusement vanish when she saw what now lay in wait only a short distance away. Not far from a knot of villiagers come to watch the princess' departure, rowing boats were tied to the quay, with sailors standing ready to help the princess and her party into them. While out at sea - made as if a child's rocking toys by the strong wind- four of her father's galleons lay ready to catch the morning tide and set out to sea, as soon as the royal party boarded them.

For several moments, the cloud released some of its hold on the sun. A golden shower of light lit up the squadron of galleons, turning the sea around them a golden pool, cresting against the galleons' bows and sides. Throbbing, rippling, pulsing- in its continual interflow between sea and sky- the light seemed to Catalina a living thing, something her spirit drank up as she spent a moment contemplating its beauty.