My Nephew, My King

Coronation

April 21, 1509

Richmond Palace

"The King is dead," the physician stated as he emerged from the chambers of King Henry VII. "Long live the King."

The King's only surviving son, Prince Henry, knew what would come next. First there would be an elaborate funeral for his father, and then his nephew Arthur would be crowned as the new King.

Arthur. If not for the six-year-old boy, Henry himself would be the next King. Yet how could he feel hatred or resentment for such a precious little boy? Arthur was a fine, handsome lad, with red hair and blue eyes like his uncle, and a sharp, precocious mind like his mother.

Katherine. Never before had Henry known anyone so lovely, so exotically foreign and yet comfortably familiar at the same time. How he'd envied his older brother as he'd proudly escorted her down the aisle the day of her wedding! But Arthur had been gone these past seven years. Perhaps Henry would finally have his turn, after all. To be the husband of the mother of the King of England would be a great honor, indeed. Not exactly the same as actually being the King himself, perhaps, but a great honor nonetheless.

June 24, 1509

Westminster Abbey

All of England watched and rejoiced as the crown was placed on young Arthur's head. Even at six he had a proud, regal bearing, standing straight and tall and behaving with the utmost dignity. For a fleeting moment, Katherine wished that her parents could be there to see him.

"I'm the King now, Mama," Arthur said to his mother at the lavish banquet following his coronation.

"Indeed you are," Katherine replied.

"That means that I get to do whatever I want and make all the rules," Arthur said.

"Well, not quite." Katherine laughed. "You're still six years old, Arthur. Your Uncle Henry will serve as your regent until you're all grown up and can make the important decisions yourself."

"He's quite a lad." Katherine turned to see her brother-in-law, Henry, smiling at her.

"He resembles his father so strongly it's hard to believe sometimes." Katherine had to swallow a lump in her throat.

"That he does," Henry agreed. "I see quite a bit of his mother in him as well."

"Really?" Katherine was surprised.

"I really do," Henry assured her. For the first time, Katherine noticed what a tall, handsome man Henry had grown up to be. She knew that he was six years younger than she was, but now that no longer seemed to matter. As she looked into his eyes, she felt a desire that she hadn't felt since Arthur had died, one that she hadn't known she'd ever feel again.