The rich tester bed in which the royal infant was to be born was truly magnificent. It was made up with sheets of fine lawn, a counterpane of scarlet velvet edged with ermine and a border of cloth of gold, with curtains and hangings of crimson satin embroidered with crowns of gold and the Queen's coat of arms. Four silver damask cushions were provided for the royal head to rest upon. When her labour was over, the Queen would put on a circular mantle of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine, in which she would receive visitors while still in bed.
Men were not admitted to the Queen's presence during the last weeks of her pregnancy; even the King stayed away. Her chamberlain, Lord Mountjoy, arranged for the duties of all male officers within her household to be taken over by her ladies and gentlewomen, who became, for a few weeks, 'butlers, servers and pages', receiving all 'needful things' at the door to the Queen's apartments. When the Queen 'took to her chamber', she bade her chamberlain and other male retainers a formal farewell, and Mountjoy in return desired all her people, in her name, to pray 'that God would send her a good hour'.
Katherine's labour began on 31 December 1510, and on New Year's Day 1511, she was at last 'delivered of a Prince, to the great gladness of the realm'. In honour of the occasion, a jubilant Henry ordered beacons to be lit in London and the distribution of free wine to the citizens. Churchmen went in procession through the streets, and in the churches theTe Deumwas sung. The child was given his father's name, Henry.
The little Prince was christened at Richmond before he was a week old, his godparents being the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Surrey, and the Countess of Devon, who was the daughter of Edward IV and the King's aunt. Katherine's happiness was now complete, for she had done her duty by providing England with an heir, and the King could not do enough to honour or praise her. Messages of congratulation were arriving hourly at the palace, and in the streets, people were chanting, 'Long live Katherine and the noble Henry! Long live the Prince!' After the birth, Henry went to the shrine of our Lady of Walsingham, the special patron of mothers and babies, to give thanks for his boy, and, on his return, the court moved to Westminster. Katherine had now been churched and had resumed public life; her child had been left at Richmond in the care of nurses, and if this caused her any qualms she did not show it, but immersed herself wholeheartedly in the celebrations arranged by the King in honour of his son's birth.
Then tragedy struck, and the festivities were brought to an abrupt halt when the King and Queen were informed that the little prince had died on 22 February at Richmond. The chronicler Edward Hall says that Henry, 'like a wise Prince', was deeply grieved yet still philosophical; his concern was mainly for Katherine, who, 'like a natural woman', was devastated by the news and 'made much lamentation'. However, her husband comforted her 'wondrous wisely', and in time she came to accept the death of her baby as the will of God. The King 'made no great mourning outwardly', but spent a lavish sum on a funeral for Prince Henry, who was buried in Westminster Abbey, and the daily routine of the court was very quiet for the next two months, during which time Katherine remained mostly in seclusion, regretting no doubt that she had spent so little time with her child during his short life, and also facing up to the fact that England still needed an heir. In September that year she was rumoured to be pregnant again, but nothing more is heard of it, and it may have been a false hope.
By 1511, there was a new power in the ascendant at court. Thomas Wolsey was then thirty-six, and had been born the son of an Ipswich butcher. He had had the good fortune to be educated at Oxford, and after that had taken holy orders, becoming chaplain to Henry VII in 1507, and Dean of Lincoln in 1509. When Henry VII died, Wolsey, ever industrious in his own interests, had quickly ingratiated himself with Henry VIII, proving his abilities by sheer hard work and well- timed, sound advice. The young King liked this affable cleric, and by 1511 Wolsey was already enjoying considerable influence, besides being honoured with the friendship of the King, who was coming increasingly to rely upon him. Wolsey would shoulder the matters of state that Henry hated, and never let the King guess that it was Wolsey, and not Henry Tudor, who was, in effect, taking over the government of England. Yet this was what happened, with Wolsey becoming the real power behind the throne to a greater degree as the years passed, while his young master rode in the lists, planned glorious but impractical campaigns, and wrote love songs.
Wolsey was resented at court by the older nobility, who were jealous of his power which they felt should be theirs by right; nor did his increasingly lavish lifestyle endear him to his colleagues. The King's favour had brought with it a string of lucrative honours: Wolsey was made Bishop of Lincoln, and then Archbishop of York, in 1514, and in 1515 the Pope made him a cardinal. He was then supporting a household that rivalled that of his master for luxury, and he had his own palace, Hampton Court, built in 1514 on the site of an old priory by the Thames. When completed, it far exceeded any of the King's palaces for luxury and grandeur. Wolsey's private rooms were lined with linenfold panelling and wall paintings by Italian masters, and his ceilings were carved, moulded and painted in gold leaf. There was space for thousands of retainers. Wolsey could well afford such extravagance, for the King had been generous to him on a grand scale. By 1515 he was virtually running the country; the King was content to leave everything to the capable Cardinal, who was the most powerful man in England after himself. At Christmas 1515, Wolsey was appointed Lord Chancellor of England, an office he would hold for the next fourteen years, and in 1518, the Pope made him Papal Legate in England.
Katherine of Aragon did not like or trust Wolsey for several reasons. She felt that he was ousting her from her rightful place in the King's counsels, and she thought him insincere and lacking in the humility desirable in a prince of the Church. She also deplored his pro-French foreign policies, and the fact that he was working against the interests of Spain. In fact, after 1521, the Cardinal became ever more antagonistic towards Spain, because the Emperor had lifted not a finger to help Wolsey achieve his greatest ambition, that of being Pope; there had been two papal elections in 1521, and Wolsey - a candidate at both - had been overlooked, which he blamed upon Charles V's influence.
As the years went by, Wolsey's arrogance grew as, simultaneously, did his unpopularity. There was criticism from both nobility and commons, some of it calculated to make the King jealous. For a time, Henry resisted: Wolsey was an able and efficient statesman, whose grasp of European affairs was second to none. But, by 1526, heavy hints about the Cardinal's excessive power and riches were beginning to have an effect, and the King started to make meaningful comments about how much richer than his sovereign he was. Wolsey, seeing that some sacrifice was expedient, took the hint, and promptly surrendered to the King the deeds of Hampton Court. It was a magnificent gesture that had the desired effect and, through it, the Cardinal hoped to reap greater benefits in the future. Besides, he did have another residence, York Place by Westminster, the London house of the Archbishops of York, which had been refurbished by him to almost the same degree of luxury as Hampton Court.
From the first, Katherine of Aragon was mindful of the fact that she was in England to represent her father's interests, and in the early days of their marriage her influence over the young Henry VIII was very strong indeed. Henry would do nothing without her approval; even when it came to matters of state, he would say to his councillors, or to visiting ambassadors, 'The Queen must hear this,' or 'This will please the Queen.' And his advisers, dismayed though they were at their master's reliance on his foreign wife's judgement, were powerless to do anything about it. Nevertheless, there was a good deal of head shaking and muttering that, at this rate, England would shortly be ruled at one remove by Spain.
This, of course, was what Ferdinand of Aragon intended should happen, and he was duly gratified when Katherine spoke of her husband as being 'the true son of your Highness, with desire of greater obedience and love to serve you than ever son had to his father'. She would have done well at this stage
to have studied the example of certain queen consorts in the past, who had put the interests of their own families before those of the kingdom into which they had married. Such queens had at best courted vilification, and at worst been suspected of treason. Already the King's councillors were complaining about the extent of the Queen's influence, and they had cause, for Katherine, reared to obey her father in every respect, and not really understanding the attitude of the English towards foreign interference in their politics, saw nothing amiss with manipulating Henry. 'These kingdoms of your Highness,' she wrote to Ferdinand, forgetting that her husband owed no allegiance whatsoever to his father-in-law, 'are in great peace, and entertain much love towards the King my lord and me. His Highness and I are very hearty towards the service of your Highness.'
It was easy to foresee, as Henry's councillors did, that the Queen would soon be prevailing upon the King to favour Spain's interests above those of England; already she viewed her husband's realm as an extension of her father's, and never ceased reminding the King of the virtues of King Ferdinand, whom he was coming to regard as the fount of all wisdom. Henry would take no step without first discussing it with Katherine, Katherine would not approve anything without her father's sanction, and unfortunately Henry was too inexperienced to realise what was happening.
With her father's warm approval, Katherine set about turning Henry's mind against France, the traditional enemy of England and Spain. This was not difficult; Henry detested the French anyway, and was intent on making war on France in the not too distant future, the conquest of that realm and the fulfilment of England's ancient claims to its throne being his ultimate goal. In November 1511, Ferdinand's scheming, and Katherine's, reached a successful conclusion with the signing of the Treaty of Westminster, whereby Henry and Ferdinand pledged to help each other against France, their mutual enemy. Katherine had done her work well, and Ferdinand was proud of her.
Henry VIII sent an army under Lord Dorset into France in 1512, but the campaign ended in inglorious failure. It was therefore relatively easy for Katherine to persuade the King to mount a second campaign in 1513, which he would lead himself. By doing this, the Queen was rendering a signal service to her father, who was also planning to take the offensive against the French. Henry was excited and enthusiastic about the coming campaign, even though his councillors tried to talk him out of it. As the Venetian ambassador put it, 'the King is bent on war, the Council is averse to it; the Queen will have it, and the wisest councillors in England cannot stand against the Queen.' Katherine had assured Henry of the full cooperation of his allies, King Ferdinand and the Emperor Maximilian, and Henry seems to have persuaded himself that those two wily old self-seekers would support him in his bid to take the French throne. For the young King the glorious adventure was about to begin, and he saw himself returning victorious from his righteous war, crowned with laurel wreaths and the ultimate prize, the crown of France.
By June 1513, all was ready for the King's departure. Katherine was to be Regent in his absence, and due precautions had been taken to guard the northern border against an attack by the unpredictable Scots, France's traditional allies. At last, on 30 June, Henry rode from London to Dover at the head of 11,000 men, with Katherine by his side. In Dover Castle, he formally invested his wife with the regency, and commanded the Archbishop of Canterbury and the seventy-year-old veteran Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, to act as her advisers. The Earl was to escort the Queen back to London and then travel north to be at hand in the event of trouble with the Scots. Katherine cried when the King bade her farewell, being fearful for his safety, but Surrey gallantly comforted her on the ride back to London, and she rose to the occasion with courage, remembering that, if only for a short while, she was now the effective custodian of her husband's kingdom.
Henry and his magnificent fighting force created a sensation when they arrived in France - 'you will never have seen anything so gorgeous!', reported an imperial envoy. Yet, in reality, his presence was anything but welcome to Ferdinand and Maximilian when they discovered that his ultimate purpose was to depose Louis XII and have himself crowned King of France. Alarmed, they resolved to pack him off home as soon as possible, and wasted no time in drawing up a secret treaty with Louis XII whereby the young King of England would be permitted one or two inconsequential victories, which would hopefully satisfy his craving for military glory before the advent of winter forced him to return to England. On 24 July, Henry and Maximilian laid siege to the town of Therouanne, and on 16 August an Anglo-Imperial army routed the French at what became known as the Battle of the Spurs, so called because the French army took one look at the superior forces of England and the Empire and fled. It was not a decisive victory, but it sufficed for the present.
Wolsey, who had gone with the King to France, had arranged to keep the Queen regularly informed of Henry's progress, but letters were sometimes held up, and then her fears grew. 'I shall be never in rest until I see letters from you,' she wrote to Henry. Accounts of the risks he was taking filled her with alarm, especially when she learned that he insisted on being present in the ranks before Therouanne, well within range of enemy cannon, and she begged Wolsey to remind the King 'to avoid all manner of dangers'. As for herself, she was 'encumbered' with matters arising from the war. 'My heart is very good to it,' declared the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, 'and I am horribly busy with making standards, banners and badges.'
Not all of these were destined for France, for in the midst of this activity, news reached Katherine at Richmond that the Scots were planning an invasion of England, and were mobilising their forces. Not for nothing was Katherine her mother's daughter, and she threw herself with courage and zeal into preparations for defence, informing Wolsey that the King's subjects were 'very glad, I thank God, to be busy with the Scots'. On 22 August, the 80,000-strong army of Henry VIII's brother-in-law, the 'false and perjured' James IV, invaded England, advancing into Northumberland. At the same time, an English force led by the Earl of Surrey was moving north to meet them.
Three days later, the Queen received news of the fall of Therouanne to Henry VIII and the King's triumphant entry into the town; immediately, she dashed off a letter of congratulation, opining that 'the victory hath been so great that I think none such hath been seen before. All England hath cause to thank God for it, and I specially.' In early September the Queen travelled north to Buckingham, where she would await news from Surrey. Here she made a speech to the reserve forces camped outside the town, urging them to victory in a just cause. But there was to be no need for their services, for on Friday, 9 September 1513, the Earl of Surrey scored a resounding victory over the Scots at the Battle of Flodden, one of the bloodiest combats ever seen in Britain, and at the end of the day, ten thousand Scotsmen lay dead on the moor, among them their King and the flower of his nobility. Scotland would now be ruled by a council of regency, for the new King, James V, was only a baby; the war with England would of necessity have to be shelved.
The impact of Flodden and its consequences was immediately felt in England. Surrey wrote at once to the Queen, informing her of the victory, and sent her James's banner and the bloody coat he had died in as trophies; Katherine duly sent them on to Henry by a herald. Then she gave devout thanks to God for Surrey's success, and returned in triumph to Richmond. On the way, she stayed the night at Woburn Abbey, and it was here that she took time to write to her husband, referring, perhaps rather tactlessly, to 'the great victory that our Lord hath sent to your subjects in your absence. To my thinking, this battle hath been more than should you win all the crown of France.' Not that Katherine intended any offence; indeed, she was praying that God would 'send you home shortly, for without no joy can here be accomplished'.
If Henry felt somewhat disgruntled by the implication of Katherine's words, he was soon to forget it, for on 21 September he captured another town, Tournai. He had thoroughly enjoyed his first taste of warfare, and was disappointed that it was now autumn and time to return to En
gland, for no commander ever campaigned through the winter months by choice. It was agreed between the allies that they should launch a combined invasion of France before June 1514, and also that the marriage of Henry's sister Mary to Charles of Castile should take place in the spring. After a short sojourn in Lille, the court of Maximilian's daughter and Katherine's former sister-in-law, the Archduchess Margaret, Henry returned to England, landing at Dover on 22 October after an absence of four months. With only a small company, he rode at full speed to Richmond to see his wife, and when he arrived, 'there was such a loving meeting that everyone rejoiced who witnessed it'.
Katherine had been pregnant for the third time during the Flodden campaign, and after the victory celebrations were over, she went to Our Lady of Walsingham to pray for the safe delivery of a son. The war had drained her energies, and there were fears that she might miscarry: 'If the Queen be with child, we owe very much to God,' wrote Sir Brian Tuke, Henry's secretary, to Wolsey. Yet in October, just prior to the King's homecoming, Katherine was delivered of a premature son, who died shortly after his birth. It was a bitter disappointment, but mitigated to some extent by her joyful reunion with her husband later that month. Both Henry and Katherine were becoming increasingly anxious about the succession and the King's lack of a male heir. Nevertheless, time was still on their side, and in June 1514, the Queen was visibly pregnant once more.