Catherine, Beloved Queen V

Held aloft by blood-clotted dark hair, the head swung side to side, slowly, as if now but a plaything in the executioner's massive and blood-bathed hand. From the neck, blood still seeped - splat, splat, splat of fast congealing blood drops, dripping onto the scaffold covered with straw.

Face awash with tears of grief- for something, for some one, she knew not what- Catalina gasped- awake- finding she had barely escaped from one nightmare to awaken to another- a nightmare that promised as yet no escape.

The sides of the galleon groaned. Timbers cracked as if in time to loud thunder bursts from a storm raging without mercy outside. The vessel pitched one way and then another, turned into an unbroken horse bearing for the first time the weight of a rider, all the while wind howled its way into Catalina's cabin like the devil himself.

Pushing aside blankets and soft animal skins, which had protected her so far from getting wet, Catalina sat up, frightened that she was about to be tossed out of bed. It made her more frightened when she swung herself around and attempted to stand- only to almost slip on the slimy, water-drenched timbers. Swinging and sputtering, the amber candlelight, protected in a mental hanging lamp, revealed water seeping over the boards, as if a tide growing in unrelenting strength. Her stomach threatening to heave, Catalina dropped to her knees, quickly crossing before grabbing hold of the wooden posts on the sides of her narrow bed to steady herself.

"Please, God, forgive my sins. Please give me courage." Then- under breath- the sixteen year-old whispered, "please, dear God, don't let me die. I don't want to die."

Tasting the salt of her tears, Catalina wiped her face on her upper arm. All around she heard the loud cries of her female companions, many like herself, precariously balanced on knees in prayer as the ship rolled one way and then another. As the ship pitched savagely to one side and more water deluged through every crevice of the Princess' upper cabin, Dona Elvira screamed, "Mother of God! Save us! We're going under!"

The candle sputtered out its final glimmer of light. In the dark- thinking the ship about to burst asunder- Catalina tightly closed her eyes and- yet again in her short life- gave herself to God.

Farewell, she had thought and believed three days ago. By the time the long, terrifying night gave way to morning, the gale had finally blown itself out, leaving only a few rags of dark cloud scattered in the blue sky as its only remnants. And Catalina found herself returning to Spanish soil. Humbled, her father's proud galleons - the best in his fleet- limped their way back to calmer waters, close to land and a fishing village to make needed repairs, while the galleons' human cargo- humbled too- all praised God for their escape from untimely deaths.