Posted by Linda on May 30, 2003 at 02:20:42:
The nuptial celebrations lasted many hours. There was a feast, with dish after dish of such delicacies as boar’s head, sucking pig, venison, sides of beef and mutton, game pies, rabbits and hares; dressed carp, bream, salmon and pike; turkey, capon, pheasant, partridge and grouse. Huge platters were carried by the servants, bearing salads of chives and scallions, parsley and red sage, lettuce and spinach. Sweetmeats followed ... sugared comfits, raisins and figs, roses and violets and marigolds preserved in syrup, purees and tarts of apple and blackberry, gooseberry and redcurrant, strawberry and cherry; plum and pear; quince cakes, gingerbread, fantastical creatures moulded from marchpane and powdered sugar, and from far away lands, oranges and lemons, and the finest spices. Wine spouted from a fountain in the centre of the Great Banqueting Hall; there was mead and apple cider and cherry cordials and raspberry beer and ale.
Life at the Spanish Court had been simpler, more austere ... and Catalina ate and drank sparingly. Not only was her palate unused to such richness, but she was becoming nervous about what the night would bring. The secrets of the marriage bed were a mystery to her, despite her twenty-two years, and the only advice she had received was from her mother, who had counselled her thus: “The marriage bed is unpleasant, and at first painful. It is your duty to submit to your husband without complaint, and pray that you are blessed with children.”
Those words held little reassurance for the new bride, and she grew increasingly apprehensive as the hour for the bedding ceremony grew nearer. She was able, however, to take some comfort in the gentle attentions of the King. Unlike most of the men present, Edmund had partaken of little wine, and throughout the meal, had conversed pleasantly with her, inquiring about her voyage, and the courtesies she had received since her arrival. With his own knife, he had cut the choicest of meats for her, and had himself refreshed her goblet with the light, sparkling wine imported from France.
After the meal there was dancing and entertainment. At first, the minstrels sang romantic ballads and sweet songs of love, but as the drinks flowed, the songs became bawdier and more raucous. So too with the players and mummers who provided little dramas for her amusement. Early in the evening, they enacted Bible stories and Moral Fables ... but the more wine and ale that was consumed, the more lewd became their acts, so that even Catalina, who was not able to follow all the dialogue, was wont to blush and avert her eyes.
And at last, came the moment that she had dreaded. The King rose and called for silence. Lifting his goblet, he cried out, “God bless Queen Catherine! A health to Her Majesty!”
Startled, Catalina looked up at him, hearing for the first time her ‘English’ name.
The toast was drunk, and he gave her his arm to lead her from the Hall, followed by the Lords and Ladies of the Bedchamber.
In the Queen’s ante-room, Catalina was disrobed, perfumed, and made ready for bed. The sly jests and suggestive remarks made by the Ladies ... most of which she did not understand ... were as nothing compared to the outright crudity of the King’s dressing room.
“Aye ... you’ll be in Heaven, tonight, Sire,” remarked the Earl of Lancaster.
The young Duke of York guffawed drunkenly. “Not Heaven, Lancaster ... my brother will be in Spain this night!”
This witticism was received with raucous laughter and a good-natured cuff round the ear from Edmund, who called the room to order, and led the group into the bedchamber. As they entered, so too did Catalina with her retinue. A silence fell as the couple took their places at either side of the great bed, and heads were bowed reverently as the Archbishop called for a blessing on the marriage.
At last, the bride and bridegroom were left alone. Edmund threw off his robe and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching across for his wife, who stood silently, staring fixedly at the floor.
“Come, Catherine,” he said kindly, “join me.”
Her head snapped up, and those lustrous eyes flashed. “I am not Catherine! My name is Catalina!”
The King chuckled. “You are in England, now ... Catherine. The English people do not take well to foreign names ... and you are their Queen.”
“But ... I am still ... myself.”
“We are wed. Does that not make you one half of the whole?” He grasped her hand. “Join me ... let us unite the two halves. And ...” He smiled. “There will be no Catherine here ... just my sweet Catalina.”
For a moment she almost capitulated ... then she stiffened and snatched her hand away. “I ... I cannot. I am ... I have fear.”
“Hmmm ...” Edmund rolled over the bed and caught her round the waist, pulling her down onto the bed. “Do I have to spank you into submission?”
“Spank? I do not understand that word.”
The King grinned and manoeuvred her over his thighs. “I do not know the Spanish for this, Madame ... but I’m sure I can make you understand.” So saying, he delivered a sharp smack to her bottom.
Protected as she was by the material of her voluminous night attire, she was more shocked than hurt by this assault on her person. Her command of the English language temporarily deserting her, she squealed out, “¡Usted no puede azotarme! ¡Soy princesa de España!”
Edmund, who had caught only the second part of her utterance, laughed and spanked her again. “You are no longer a Princess of Spain ... you are the Queen of England.” He turned her over and looked down into her eyes. “You are my Queen,” he murmured, and he captured her mouth with his.
And very soon, husband and wife were indeed united as one.
(to be continued)
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