CHAPTER 1Voyage to EnglandRichmond Palace, July 1501Henry, duke of York, raised his heavy longbow and squinted at the target. There was a sharp twang as he released the bowstring, a sweet whistle of the flying arrow, a mellow thunk as it struck just outside the center circle. Henry smiled. His brother Arthur, prince of Wales, grimaced. Henry, a week past his tenth birthday, already stood taller and stronger than Arthur, who was five years older. Henry was a better shot, too. This clearly annoyed his brother, as Henry hoped it would."What of Princess Catherine?" asked Henry, while Brandon took his shot, a deliberately middling one. "She is coming, is she not?""I do not know, York," Arthur replied glumly. "She was promised before you were even born. She was supposed to marry me when I turned fourteen, and that was nearly a year ago. In her last letter she wrote that she would leave Granada in May. That was months ago, and as you can see, she is still not here." Arthur's shot was poor, worse than Brandon's.Henry nocked another arrow. "She writes to you, then?" This time his aim was careless and the arrow hit wide of the mark, causing Arthur to smile. The smile faded when Brandon's next shot struck near Henry's first."Of course she writes to me. Her Latin is impeccable, and her handwriting is the most elegant imaginable." Arthur's next shot flew truer than the last, but no better than Henry's."Perhaps the letters are dictated by her tutors." Henry could not resist adding, "As are yours."Arthur threw him a hard look. "My Latin is admirable.""Not so good as mine, though." Henry's third arrow struck precisely in the center of the target; Brandon split Henry's arrow in two.Arthur ignored Henry's remark, but when his third attempt missed the straw butt entirely, he stalked off toward the palace. Henry and their friend, Brandon, followed."Father is sending me back to the Marches tomorrow, did you know that?" said Arthur. "How lucky for you both, to remain here with the family, while I must live in cold and lonely old Ludlow Castle and pretend to exercise some authority over those wild Welshmen!" He slapped his glove against his thigh. "So far from London I might as well be in the Orient."Henry rarely showed much sympathy for Arthur, who enjoyed their father's favor and all the privileges due a prince. Arthur would one day be king of England, while Henry would never be more than a duke-a fact that often bothered Henry, who secretly believed he would make a much better king than Arthur. For a moment, though, he felt a tug of brotherly compassion."Soon Princess Catherine will come," he said, laying his hand on Arthur's thin shoulder, "and then surely you will be less lonely, and Ludlow will be endurable."ON THE MORNING OF THE SEVENTEENTH OF AUGUST, anno Domini 1501, I stood on the windswept deck, biting my lip to keep it from trembling. I stared at the shore to etch on my memory this last glimpse of my country. Tears blurred my

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Excerpted from Patience, Princess Catherine: A Young Royals Book by Carolyn Meyer
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