Chapter 10 #2
Perhaps her lifelong resentment for Henry had stemmed from those few months with his gentle older brother. Because after Arthur died, Lina was stranded in England, a country of harsh language, harsh winter, and harsh people.
Lina hated thinking of those days. King Henry VII, Arthur’s father, refused to pay back the first half of her dowry, and King Ferdinand refused to pay the second half when he had no guarantee his daughter would have a title to accompany the queen’s sum he had offered.
For seven torturous years, Lina was a veritable prisoner in London, waiting for Henry to come of age so she could marry the younger, lesser Tudor.
How she wished Henry had never been anything more than a brother-in-law, the spare of the royal family instead of the king.
He had taken full advantage of her influence and wealth in their marriage, made her suffer alone through the loss of all six of their children save Mary, and then he turned around and discarded her so he could wed someone else.
“I have some ideas for both you and Anne,” Marguerite was saying, “if you’re willing to get to work. You don’t have to start today, but perhaps we could speak over supper.”
With effort, Lina refocused her attention. “I would like that.”
Marguerite smiled, and this time there was nothing foxlike about it. In fact, Lina caught a glimmer of brightness in her eyes. “And I haven’t said it yet, so thank you for bringing her home.”
When Lina had hatched the plan to save Anne’s life, only Marguerite believed she could do it.
The Frenchwoman procured the book of curses and the bloodletting knife, helped arrange passage to and from London, and made sure the Winter Rose would be a safe landing place.
Marguerite never hesitated to sacrifice a pawn to get a king, but she had moved mountains to save her friend.
After planning to meet later in the day, Marguerite left and Lina went next door to see how Anne was faring.
The physician was leaving Anne’s room as Lina stepped out, and Lina blinked in surprise.
The woman was young—thirty, at most—with dark brown skin and a pale blue scarf wrapped over ebony hair.
With inquisitions raging across the Continent, it was a harsh time for Muslims in Europe; their loyalty was doubted if they converted to Catholicism, but they faced expulsion for following their own faith. This university was progressive indeed.
The physician greeted her in Spanish. “I am Akihla al-Bashar, a doctor here at Santa Cruz. You are the companion of Senora Anne?”
Lina found that her Spanish was harder to recall, English words jumping to her brain first. It made her feel like a traitor—or worse, an outsider—in her own land.
Lina wondered what the physician would say if she admitted to being Catalina de Aragón, daughter of Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand, former Princess of Wales, and the presumed-dead queen of England.
All of those titles and crowns seemed so far away.
And anyway, she wouldn’t think this woman would be impressed, not when it was Lina’s own parents who had made it a crime to be anything but Catholic in Spain.
“I am,” Lina replied. “My name is Lina. Thank you for seeing my”—competitor? co-conspirator?—“companion.”
The doctor nodded. “It is my pleasure. I hope our paths cross again.”
As she headed in the direction of the hospital, Lina stepped into Anne’s room.
“I’ll have to tell Marguerite that female physicians will soon be all the rage,” Anne said by way of greeting. “They have a far better bedside manner and don’t condescend to you the way their male counterparts do. And she didn’t even mention leeches.”
Anne looked at Lina expectantly. “Now what have you and Marguerite been talking about while I’ve been poked and prodded?”
“Lovers.”
Anne coughed in surprise. “Excuse me?”
It was an easier story to tell than to admit they’d been worrying about Anne and the fate of the Hellebore Sisterhood in England.
“Don’t try to tell me you never had one.
Seven years in the French court must have been good for something.
” Lina meant for the words to be teasing, but she saw Anne’s face harden and close off.
“I did,” Anne said at last, her eyes on the floor. “He and I—it was a long time ago.”
That was an end to a conversation if Lina had ever heard one, so she pivoted. “Marguerite has invited us to dine with her tonight.”
“Good. I’d like to hear more about what she plans for us to do.”
Lina couldn’t help but smile. “She told me she has ideas.”
“I am not at all surprised.” Anne gave a small smile in return. “I hope we find what we’re looking for here.”
“Me too,” Lina said. “Me too.”
Skip Notes
*1 Charles, the Holy Roman emperor, is the son of Lina’s elder sister, Juana.
Philip, Juana’s husband, was of the German Austrian royal Habsburgs, though he died decades ago.
Suffice it to say that “Philip the Handsome” was far better looking than his son.
In fact, Charles is a rather hideous young man, inside and out.
While his protruding lower jaw is a Habsburg breeding defect, his temperament can only be blamed upon poor quality of character.
*2 Well, of course I had. Lina never expects enough from me.
*3 Cruel of myself to write, but likely true. I shall never lie to you, dear reader.