Katherine, Beloved Queen
The woman came closer, carefully taking off Katherine's headdress.
With coif and hair net removed, the remains of once bright hair tumbled free. Even now, at forty-three, her hair possessed beauty, flowing past Katherine's almost non-existent waist. The woman began to rhythmically brush the tresses. And while she did, Katherine closed her eyes, remembering...
Her mother brushed her hair, holding a lock in hand to clear it of all knots.
"Now, my Catalina, we will write very often. I promise you, it will feel to you as if we are not separated. You know I am a good judge of character, yes?"
The girl's eyes lifted. Her mother slightly smiled, thinking how lucky Catalina was to inherit the grey eyes of her English great-grandmother. The girl cleared her throat, speaking in a voice even deeper than usual.
"Yes, mamma."
"I have written to Elizabeth of York since you were but a small baby- she will take good care of you, I know that. Listen always to her. King Henry- in truth, Catalina, I'm not so sure of him. He is like most men - looking to his women to make him feel better than other men. But always keep in mind he is the King - a King who feels not overly secure in his crown."
Catalina looked surprised.
"But mamma, he has been King for sixteen years."
"Yes- I can understand that would seem long to you- but sixteen years for a King such as Henry Tudor...and an English King, at that, it's no wonder your father and I have watched him very closely. Be assured, my little one. Your father and I would not send you, the youngest of our children, to England if for one moment, we doubted now Henry Tudor's ability to stay upon his throne. The King, indeed, has kept certain promises he has made us in the past, nothing you need worry about, Catalina. All you need do now is enjoy your wedding day."
Her mother put the brush down to lift Catalina's hair away from her neck. Catalina gazed in the mirror to see her mother pause, looking reflectively at the thick, fair hair, gleaming with red lights, she held in her hands.
"When I was a girl, I had hair such as yours. I think, of all my daughters, you are the most like me. But not only in appearance - you are strong, Catalina, strong."
Her mother patted the hair
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