Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos, Kingdom of Castile, June 1516
Catalina was grateful to be back in Castile. She had done what was required of her in Aragon, saw to it that the Cortes swore in her nephew as King, and began looking at the finer details of the Kingdom’s administration with half-brother Alfonso. Her grief however well hidden in public, had consumed her, and many of her nights were fretful, for being in Aragon served as little more than a reminder of her father’s death. The Regent could not totally forget it however and had gone through penance for the sins that she believed had taken her father from her, extending the Lenten fast for another three months. As such she had been subsiding on bread, water, and as a small indulgence, a spoonful of sardines every other day. Catalina of Aragon rubbed the cool beads of her rosary as she was on her knees,
Lord Father in heaven, forgive me for my many, many sins, most of all my pride. You are a wise God, and so I know that you shall have mercy upon my poor father and his soul. Furthermore, I make this vow to you. Tomorrow, I shall go among Las monjas de la Inmaculada Concepción. I shall have nobody know that it is who does this. I, a wretched and unimportant woman will help them there if that would satisfy you?
…
Not a single person in the convent recognized her as she was. The Regent of Castile and Aragon smiled softly as she was among the nuns, hearing little else other than their prayers as they went about their duties. Catalina meanwhile wore a fine, if plain brown dress, simple boots, and a hairnet, not a single piece of jewelry adorning her body. The nun that ran the group, Sister Magdalena gave her a curt yet approving nod,”You seem to be a good woman Señora Cristina, I thank you in advance for your help.”
Catalina shook her head at this, lowering her eyes,”I am but a simple wife and mother, that wishes to thank God for the blessings that he has given us.”
“Very well, I shall lead you to help those that we have received this morning.”
They walked through the narrow corridors of the convent at a brisk pace, Catalina just barely behind the nun, to where the injured and ailing were kept. Coughs, groans and shrill cries filled her ears, and she hoped that at the very least she could ease the suffering of these people, her people. Sister Magdalena stood by a small boy, who laid on a cot, shivering as he sweat. As she strode over Catalina asked,”Who is he? What is wrong with him?”
The nun turned to her, voice softening,”This is Pablo, he is an orphan. The other day he hurt himself in a little scrap, and now, he has an infection. We are trying, but his fever is strong…”
She set her eyes upon the boy, full of sympathy,”Poor child, I will see what I can do for him.”
Catalina grabbed a small cloth that was sitting inside a bowl, wringing the water out so it would be cool, but not soaking wet. She slowly smoothed it over the boy’s forehead, who smiled up at her weakly,”Thank you Señora.”
“It is nothing Pablo, tell me, how were you hurt?”
At first, it seemed that he did not want to answer, but finally, the words came out of his mouth,”It was some of the other boys. The owner of the tavern had given me a crust of bread, but the three of them, all bigger than I demanded that I give it to them. I did not, so they beat me and took it from me.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
She gave him a little water to drink, and when she put the pewter cup back on the table Catalina said,”You know I work for the Infanta Juana, I am one of her washerwomen. I think that if I should ask her to install you in her son the King’s household she would do so. You'd have plenty of food, a clean bed, and would be safe, I shall not allow anyone to bully you.”
The child’s eyes shone with tears of gratitude,”You would do that for me? I do not know what to say to this...”
“Say yes, agree and you will live a fine life.” Catalina urged
Pablo nodded his head, and the Infanta smiled to herself, happy to have helped him, and wanting to do more good while she was there.