The River Thames is more than scenery in Catalina’s story: its gray expanse becomes an imagined home, a place where she confronts uncertainty, and a route through which private hopes meet public politics. Its changing presence tracks her movement from longing for belonging to cautiously pursuing the English throne.

An imagined home

In a dream, Catalina flies north as a swift, expecting to find Ludlow Castle and remembering the intimacy she hopes to share with Arthur. Instead, the vision resolves into gray walls and the River Thames, with ships at anchor and traffic moving along the water. The river’s bustle represents the wealth of England, but Catalina’s response is not simply to see herself as a stranger among it. She imagines making a nest against the towers, as she would have done in Spain, and understands that this can become her home. The dream gives the river a role in her transformation: here she will no longer be Catalina, the Infanta of Spain, but Katherine of Aragon, Queen of England, the identity Arthur gave her.

A place of waiting

Later, the riverbank becomes a setting for anxious uncertainty. After Henry VII has visited with passionate intent, Catalina waits for him to return. When he does not come as she expects, she walks alone by the river, trying to explain his absence and fearing that he has changed his mind. She tells herself that her interest is not desire: Henry VII is her only path to the throne. Yet his silence has made her anxious, and the river’s passing water accompanies questions for which she has no answer. The imagined home of her dream has become a place where her future seems dependent on another person’s decision.

Hope in public view

After Henry VII’s death, Catalina pounds along the river, the gravel pressing through the thin leather of her shoes. The change in ruler alters the stakes: now Henry VIII will decide her future. She is wary of hope after years of disappointment, but believes she understands the young prince and sees a faint reason for optimism. Walking more slowly beside the cold river, she sees boatmen bundled against the winter weather. One recognizes her and calls out a blessing; Catalina raises her hand in reply. Their affection, which she remembers from her arrival at Plymouth, seems to her a political asset as well as a personal kindness. The River Thames thus carries the article’s recurring contrast: it is at once a private landscape for fear and expectation, and a public space in which Catalina can glimpse the support that may help secure her place in England.