Dialogue with Six Queens

Catherine of Aragon

Wendy:

All right. Let's start this by setting out ground rules. The six of you are well and truly dead, and there's no reason now why we can't conduct this interview in a civilised fashion. I really think it important that only one person speaks at one time. Do you think we can do this, your majesties?

(Six women around a table nod.)

Good - now we're ready to make a start. Catherine of Aragon, is it true, Your Majesty, that you thought the fates against you from the time you left your mother's kingdom?

Catherine of Aragon:

That is so. After embracing my father, and kneeling for my mother's blessing, I journeyed long weeks to Santiago de Compostela; there my father's ships awaited my arrival. But almost as soon as the ships set sail, a great, boisterous storm tossed and tumbled us in swelling seas, forcing all the ships back to my homeland. I feared then the heavens were against my match with Arthur Tudor. But what could I do? My life's course had already been fixed. Indeed, from the time I was a young child, I knew England to be my destiny. Betrothed to Arthur Tudor from almost three, I was well aware that I, like my four sisters, had roles to play to forge alliances for parents' two kingdoms.

Wendy:

Queen Catherine, you were your mother's youngest child?

Catherine of Aragon:

Aye - born whilst my noble and prudent mother campaigned against the Moors. Only when my mother felt the pangs of childbirth fall upon her did she ride away from her God-given war. I must regard myself as fortunate to ever see life - my mother lost twins only a year or so before my birth. Praise God, my wise mother prepared me well for queenship. She found the best tutors in the land to educate her daughters, as well as her only son, but she also taught my sisters and me how to be good wives. Humbly I say my embroidery is better than most women, and it was such joy to make my husband's shirts.

Wendy:

Tell me of your arrival in England...

Catherine of Aragon:

The journey took much longer than expected, but I arrived on England's shores just before my sixteenth birthday. My father-in-law and Arthur, the boy I called husband for a brief time, met me in Hampshire, at the Bishop's palace in Dangerfield. The King shocked my ladies by going against all Castillian custom: he insisted on lifting my veil. But I believe he was well content with what he saw. Arthur told me later of his happiness when he saw my sweet face for the first time. But in my youth, all said I was pretty. My mother told me I possessed the grey eyes and 'rose' complexion of my English grandmother - she also with the name of Catherine. Although short of stature, still I was well shaped and graceful as a girl. But my greatest beauty was my hair. At sixteen, it shone like red/gold autumn leaves, wind-tossed in the light of a setting sun. Being then virgin, my hair flowed loose and free, passing down to my hips. My maids delighted in often washing it in water scented with rose petals.

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