Florals & Musings

Character Description: Queen Catherine of Aragon, the first wife of King Henry VII, reflects on her life and her fate. She is almost 50 years old, living in a convent, and has not seen her only child, the future Mary I, in many years. 

I had hoped it was just an affair. 

An affair I could handle; after all, it came with the territory of being a queen. My mother, Queen Isabella of Castile, turned a blind eye to my father’s numerous mistresses and illegitimate children. It’s just what you do. 

At least your children will be the ones who rule. That thought always helped me sleep at night.

But I couldn’t give him a son who lived. The Tudor dynasty is fragile; it began when my father-in-law, King Henry VII, defeated Richard III on the battlefield. If you win the throne through battle, you can lose it through battle. My husband, King Henry VIII, knows how fragile his father’s claim, and therefore his, is to the throne. He needs a son to ensure the Tudor dynasty lives on.

After our wedding, I did give him a son, but baby Henry died two months later. 

“We are young and healthy,” he said, kissing my hand, “more sons will soon follow.”

But there were no more sons. We did have a daughter, Mary, named after Henry’s favorite sister, but God called the rest of our children home.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when he requested a divorce. I knew he needed a son, and I was nearing my twilight years and couldn’t give him one. But in the eyes of God, divorce is akin to killing your spouse. Despite my inability to produce a healthy son, I was still the rightful Queen of England and Henry’s only true wife. The daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Aragon and Castile would not simply step aside for a common whore.

So I fought. I fought for my daughter not to become a bastard and to take her rightful place as the Princess of Wales. I fought for my rightful place as the true Queen of England. And I fought for my marriage. I did truly love Henry; I still do.

For years I begged God to reveal why he denied me a healthy son, but the answer never came. My daughter and I were permanently separated and promised that if we would simply recognize that my marriage to Henry was fraudulent and acknowledge Anne Boleyn as his true wife and Queen of England, we would be reunited.

I loved my daughter with my entire heart, and there was nothing I wanted more than to be reunited with her, but I could not lie in front of God and say my marriage wasn’t true. Yes, I married Henry’s older brother Arthur, but we had not consummated the marriage. When he died six months into our marriage, I became a prisoner of Henry VII. I thought I would live the rest of my life alone in a convent because he did not want to repay my dowry.

Thankfully Henry VII died, and his son saved me.  But then I ended up in a convent anyway. 

 At least I kept my head.