Ribeira Palace, Kingdom of Portugal, December 1520
A tear slid down her face, the Queen could hardly believe what was happening. Catalina of Aragon trembled as she took a deep breath, leaning her back against the wall for support. In the room adjacent to where she stood in the hallway her husband was dying. Worse yet, because it was the dreaded plague that he was suffering from, she could not comfort him for fear of putting her life, or that of their unborn child at risk.
The woman prayed quietly for a moment, trying to appear calmer than she really was.
Elvira de Mendoza placed a hand against the Queen of Portugal’s shoulder blades, the older woman trying to quietly comfort her as best she could.
“Thank you, Elvira and Maria.” Catalina whispered
Maria de Salinas was also there, by her side, stroking her friend’s hand, and Catalina could tell that she too was bewildered, not sure what to do. The woman saw a flash of dark cloth in the morning light out of the corner of her eye, and she heard a trembling voice,”Your Majesty.”
Turning her head, the Queen of Portugal noticed that it was her eldest stepchild, Prince João, and she lowered her head, unable to curtesy due to her pregnancy, and asked,”Highness, do the physicians send any news?’
João’s lip trembled, his facade of cool formality falling apart,”My father, the King is dead…”
Catalina of Aragon blinked away tears and walked over to the young man, nay, the boy who had just lost his father, who would now assume the heavy burden of being King. She threw her arms around him, and together they both sobbed, utterly despondent.
Catalina no longer the Queen Consort of Portugal, sniffled,”He was a good man João, a kind father to you and your brothers and sisters.”
“Yes, he was.” João nodded his head,”But he was still taken from us too soon, far too soon.”
Catalina thought about the child in her belly, who would never meet its father, and hugged her nephew tighter,”
Si João, far too soon.”