Arthur- Prince of the Roses Read online

  Copyright © 2016 Alison Weir

  The right of Alison Weir to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in Great Britain in this Ebook edition in 2016 by

  HEADLINE REVIEW

  An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters – apart from the obvious historical figures – in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Ebook conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 3562 6

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About Alison Weir

  Also by Alison Weir

  Praise

  About the Book

  Family Tree

  Arthur: Prince of the Roses

  Author’s Note

  Extract from Six Tudor Queens: Katherine of Aragon

  About Alison Weir

  Alison Weir is the top-selling female historian (and the fifth bestselling historian overall) in the United Kingdom, and has sold over 2.7 million books worldwide. She has published seventeen history books, including The Six Wives of Henry VIII, The Princes in the Tower, Elizabeth the Queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry VIII: King and Court, Katherine Swynford, The Lady in the Tower and Elizabeth of York. Alison has also published five historical novels, including Innocent Traitor and The Lady Elizabeth. Her latest biography is The Lost Tudor Princess, about Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox. Katherine of Aragon: The True Queen is the first in a series of novels about the wives of Henry VIII. Her next novel Anne Boleyn: A King’s Obsession is to be published in the spring. Alison is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts and Sciences and an Honorary Life Patron of Historic Royal Palaces, and is married with two adult children.

  Also by Alison Weir

  Fiction

  Innocent Traitor

  The Lady Elizabeth

  The Captive Queen

  A Dangerous Inheritance

  The Marriage Game

  The Six Tudor Queens series

  Katherine of Aragon: The True Queen

  Quick Reads

  Traitors of the Tower

  Non-fiction

  Britain’s Royal Families: The Complete Genealogy

  The Six Wives of Henry VIII

  The Princes in the Tower

  Lancaster and York: The Wars of the Roses

  Children of England: The Heirs of King Henry VIII 1547–1558

  Elizabeth the Queen

  Eleanor of Aquitaine

  Henry VIII: King and Court

  Mary Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley

  Isabella: She-Wolf of France, Queen of England

  Katherine Swynford: The Story of John of Gaunt and His Scandalous Duchess

  The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn

  Mary Boleyn: ‘The Great and Infamous Whore’

  Elizabeth of York: The First Tudor Queen

  The Lost Tudor Princess

  As co-author

  The Ring and the Crown: A History of Royal Weddings, 1066–2011

  Praise for Alison Weir

  ‘A tender understanding of and genuine sympathy for this proud, much-loved and honourable Queen . . . I was gripped [from] start to finish’ Mavis Cheek

  ‘Well-researched and engrossing’ Good Housekeeping

  ‘Yet again, Alison Weir has managed to intertwine profound historical knowledge with huge emotional intelligence, to compose a work that throws light on an endlessly fascinating historical figure. Yet her real gift in all of this is making it feel so fresh and alive’ Earl Spencer

  ‘Alison Weir clearly admires her heroine . . . meticulously researched’ The Times

  ‘This exquisite book charts the rise and fall of Henry VIII’s first wife, Katherine . . . A fascinating insight into this period of our history. Weir’s undeniable strength is her immaculate description, enabling the reader to be transported back to Tudor England’ Sun

  ‘Weir manages to untangle the complex web of 16th-century politics, shown through Katherine’s duties as ambassador, and her astute reading of the games being played. This adds greatly to the heft of the character, demonstrating what a competent woman she was becoming’ Herald Scotland

  ‘Katherine of Aragon, the True Queen is a true tour de force. Finely crafted, this novel is wonderful historical fiction and an outstanding introduction to the Six Tudor Queens series’ Queen Anne Boleyn Blog

  ‘Known for bestselling historical biographies, Alison Weir is in command of her detail . . . her handling of Katherine’s misery and dignified response to her predicament is very touching’ Elizabeth Buchan, Daily Mail

  ‘The authentic voice of Katherine rings true throughout. It is a study of a woman who inspires admiration as well as sympathy . . . a fitting tribute to a queen who was unduly wronged by history’ The Lady

  ‘This ambitious, engrossing novel tells Katherine’s story from that moment, through her brief and controversial marriage to Prince Arthur and then to his brother, the handsome, gallant Henry VIII . . . Fascinating’ S Magazine

  ‘Alison ensures that we not only come away knowing more of the real Katherine, we understand more of how it felt to be her . . . The author really enables us to feel the claustrophobia and paranoia as Katherine tries to make decisions for her day to day life on spittets of news from her advisors – advisors she begins to realise may not be telling her the truth’ The Book Bag

  ‘Alison Weir brings Henry VIII’s first queen to life, revealing a strong, spirited and intelligent woman fighting for her rights and those of her daughter’ Choice magazine

  ‘Weir’s opening foray into the life of Katherine of Aragon presents Henry’s first and most enduring marriage from a refreshingly new and utterly gripping perspective’ Lancashire Evening Post

  About the Book

  ‘You are the first prince of my line, the Tudor line.’

  Arthur, the first Tudor prince, is raised to believe that he will inherit a kingdom destined to be his through an ancient royal bloodline. He is the second Arthur, named for the legendary hero-king of Camelot.

  To be a worthy ruler, he must excel at everything – and show no weakness. But Arthur is not strong, and the hopes of England weigh heavy on his slight shoulders. And, all the while, his little brother Harry, the favoured, golden son, is waiting in the wings.

  Arthur: Prince of the Roses by bestselling historian Alison Weir is an e-short and companion piece to her stunning novel, Katherine of Aragon, the first in a spellbinding six-novel series about Henry VIII’s Queens.

  For as long as he could remember Arthur had been surrounded by roses – red roses, white roses, and red and white ones topped by cr
owns. They were everywhere in his nursery – on the walls, on the ceiling, on the fireplaces and beds – and they appeared in books and the paintings that hung on the palace walls. The curtains concealing the paintings made them mysterious and a little frightening; once he had been too scared to look when the fabric was pulled aside, for fear of what he might see, but it was only the likeness of his father.

  Father said that the roses were very important and Arthur should always remember what they stood for. He was the rose both red and white, the living emblem of the peaceful union of the royal houses of Lancaster and York. It was some time before Arthur understood that this meant the marriage of his parents and that Father was of the House of Lancaster – the red rose, he must get that right – and Mother was of the House of York, the white rose. Some years ago, the two royal houses had fought a long and nasty war, which must never be allowed to happen again, and the people of England had been overjoyed when a prince had been born to the King and Queen, a prince in whom the two royal bloodlines were made one.

  This all took a lot of comprehending but it was clear to Arthur that he was a very special little boy indeed. Even his name proved that. His mother had told him the tales of Father’s ancestor, a great hero-king called Arthur, who had once ruled this land and won great victories. Arthur had been named for that hero-king.

  Father told him stories too – when he had time, for he was very busy – but his were of another time in King Arthur’s life, when he had lived in a far-off land called Brittany in the forest of Broceliande. Father had lived in Brittany too, before he became king, and he had not liked it very much, from the sound of it. There had been a wicked king called The Usurper on the throne then, who had tried to catch Father and kill him. But Father had raised a great army and fought a mighty battle at a place called Bosworth. There he had slain The Usurper and become king himself, so everything was all right in the end. Arthur had heard the story many times; he never tired of hearing it.

  Father spoke often of his boyhood in Wales and spun tales of griffins, ancient battles and a prince called Cadwaladr, whose dragon badge Father now had on his standard and the royal arms.

  ‘On his death bed, Cadwaladr foretold that a Welsh king would restore the ancient royal line of Britain and that his descendants would rule the whole island,’ the King said, his eyes afire. ‘I am that Welsh king, Arthur. I am the true successor of these ancient rulers; those who have ruled since were usurpers.’ Arthur thought he understood this and nodded sagely. Father was sharp-witted – he would have noticed any lack of comprehension and disapproved. He was always watching Arthur and frowning, making him feel as if he had done something wrong or was lacking in some way.

  Arthur found the Welsh stories fascinating, for he was the Prince of Wales himself. He could remember being taken on the King’s state barge to Westminster and the sound of the trumpets as he was carried ashore to be brought to Father’s presence. His most vivid memory was of being hoisted on to a horse and led into Westminster Hall, where the King dubbed him the Prince of Wales. Afterwards, he had sat alone in the King’s huge chair of estate, his feet hardly reaching the edge of the seat, and presided over a feast. He thought he had been about three at the time.

  ‘You will be a king one day,’ Father often said. ‘You will be the second Arthur. Remember that, as Englishmen rejoice over that name, other nations and foreign princes quake for it is terrible to all nations.’ That was why Arthur had to be the best at everything he did and surpass everyone else. As Father’s son and heir, he must have no weaknesses: he must be strong and brave and clever. Arthur tried; God alone knew how hard he tried. What Father did not seem to realise was that this was impossible for Arthur. But Father rarely made allowances for that. Arthur’s reign must be long and glorious and, after that, Arthur’s own son would ensure the Welsh King’s rightful blood continued to rule. He already knew who the mother of his son would be: for as long as he could remember he had been betrothed to the Spanish Infanta. Her name was Catalina, and she was a year older than he and supposed to be very pretty. Father had repeatedly told Arthur that this marriage was very important: Catalina’s parents, the King and Queen of Spain, were great monarchs and their friendship was of great benefit to England. Most important of all, the Infanta would bring with her a dowry of two hundred thousand crowns. Father’s eyes gleamed when he said this. Arthur did his best to look suitably impressed but getting married meant nothing to him and it was ages and ages away in the future. He just hoped that, when she came to England, Catalina would share his interest in King Arthur and St George and toy soldiers.

  As Arthur grew older he remained inspired by the legends of King Arthur and fired by the story of St George, England’s patron saint. His child’s mind was filled with heroes and dragons, wicked queens and princesses in distress, the mystery of the Holy Grail and swords held fast in stones or rising from lakes. He lapped up all the stirring tales of chivalry. When the court poets and ballad-makers and bards, vying to praise him, sang, ‘Behold, the royal child Arthur arises, the second hope of our kingdom,’ it thrilled him to learn that his coming had been foretold by the magician Merlin. It made him feel even more special.

  He was proud that his birthplace was King Arthur’s city of Winchester – although, of course, King Arthur had known it as Camelot. The huge round table at which he and his knights had sat long ago still hung in the great hall of the castle. One day, when he was king, Arthur promised himself he would have it taken down and used again as it was meant to be used.

  ‘The King, your father, wanted you to be born at Winchester,’ Mother had told him, her gentle face softening at the memory. ‘He knew it would be an auspicious place for the coming of a prince. It was just as well that I took to my chamber there in good time, for you arrived a month early.’ There was a slight clouding of her face when she said that, soon banished by a bright smile. ‘You were a fair babe! Everyone said so.’

  Young as he was, Arthur suspected that Mother was not telling him everything. As always, she seemed detached; he could never get as close to her as he wanted to. She was beautiful in a plump, golden way, religious, gracious and kind, and she was indulgent to him but he knew that she did not love him as she loved Harry. There was no doubting that Harry was her favourite of all her children. And who could blame her? Harry was everything that Arthur was not: energetic, boisterous and confident. Even though his brother was not yet two, Arthur could already see Harry would excel effortlessly at everything.

  Arthur hated Harry, who seemed to know how to command attention instinctively, especially when their parents were talking to Arthur. He was greenly jealous of the time his younger brother spent with their mother. She had kept him with her from birth and even taught him his first lessons, whereas Arthur had been sent away to the gloomy old castle at Farnham with Lady Darcy for the first two years of his life. He had been taught by tutors.

  ‘Why was I sent to Farnham?’ he asked Mother, more than once.

  ‘Because you were not strong when you were born and Bishop Courtenay offered to take charge of you there, where the air was healthy and there was less risk of you catching some disease.’

  Arthur could barely remember being at Farnham but he was sure that he had missed Mother. He could not recall his sister Margaret’s birth but seeing Mother with baby Harry, when he himself was five, had made him realise what he had missed. And then there was Elizabeth . . . They had all known what it was to be loved and nurtured by Mother, Queen though she was and burdened with many duties.

  He, however, saw Father more often than he saw Mother. He understood that the King wished to be seen with his heir and to spend time teaching him how to rule. For all Father’s critical eye, Arthur knew that he was proud of him.

  ‘In sending you to us, my son, God showed that He was pleased with my victory at Bosworth Field and with my marriage. You are the first prince of my line, the Tudor line.’ And again Father had launched
into a recitation of his Welsh ancestors, who had been princes of Wales in the distant past and the descendants of the mighty Cadwaladr. Arthur understood that his birth heralded a new Arthurian age of greatness, which would flower when he came to reign. Father’s expectations were a heavy burden to bear, but there was one great compensation: being the heir was one thing that he had over Harry. Harry could never become king. That spoilt, bullish little boy would have to learn his place, and Arthur was going to make sure that he did.

  He liked his sister Margaret, though. She was three years younger than Arthur, a merry child with rosy round cheeks and hair the colour of copper. He wished he could see her more often, for he loved her sunny nature and even her imperious manner. In her, it did not matter – unlike with Harry – because she was only a girl, and Arthur could order her about with impunity. Sometimes she stood up to him, or would run off complaining to her lady governess, but usually her sense of humour got the better of her, and the pair of them would end up laughing. It made Arthur realise that he did not laugh enough. He had to be serious with Father, of course, Mother was often absent both in body and in spirit and Harry was horrible and nothing to be funny about. So he thanked God for Margaret and her comical ways. But Margaret had her own nursery household and soon after Harry was born she had been sent to join his at Eltham Palace. So Harry ended up enjoying Margaret’s company and Arthur was left alone in isolated splendour in his own household. It was another score to hold against Harry.

  Their grandmother, the Lady Margaret, was a loving presence in all the children’s lives but she was old and strict and she dressed like a nun. Father treated her with great respect and it was clear that she adored him, for he was her only son and he had won at Bosworth Field and become king. The Lady Margaret often asked Arthur about his health and she liked to see the work his tutors had set him. It was important, she said, to study hard. Learning was the greatest gift. She told him about the great colleges she was founding at Oxford and Cambridge and how poor scholars would benefit from them. She was very holy, his grandmother, and very stately. He was in awe of her. It did not make for closeness.