The Spanish Princess has captivated audiences with its lush costumes and dramatic portrayal of Catherine of Aragon’s early years—but how accurate is this Tudor-era television series when compared with the historical record? Based on Philippa Gregory’s novel, the show blends fact with fiction, often taking significant liberties with actual events, characters, and timelines. In this essay, we’ll explore the historical inaccuracies in The Spanish Princess, separating the dramatized narrative from the documented truth about Catherine of Aragon, Henry VII, Elizabeth of York, Henry VIII, and the Tudor court.
With over 25 years of studying the Tudor period—and a seven-book historical fiction series to my name—I bring a well-researched and passionate perspective to the lives of Henry VII, Catherine of Aragon, and the court that shaped them. If you enjoy peeling back the layers of fact and fiction in Tudor dramas, you’ll feel right at home here—and perhaps find yourself intrigued enough to explore my novels, which bring this world to life in rich, imaginative detail.
Episode One: Camelot
Ferdinand of Aragon visits England to discuss a new alliance with Henry VIII and his daughter Catherine to jointly invade France. Catherine and Henry celebrate their newborn son, while her lady-in-waiting Lena discovers she’s pregnant. But the tide turns: Ferdinand betrays them by invading Navarre and leaving England’s forces stranded. Catherine is devastated by the betrayal and the loss of her child. She recommits herself to England and vows never to trust Spain again. Meanwhile, Lady Pole struggles with her estranged son, Reginald, and Thomas More arrives at court.
Why I End My Novels Here… and What This Season Gets Wrong
My novels end just before this period in time (with Catherine giving birth to a daughter who will become queen), because I prefer to leave all my historical favorites still alive within the narrative. However, I studied this later era thoroughly, in case I ever chose to continue the story. This season contains less outright slander of my favorites (Margaret Beaufort, Henry VII, and Elizabeth of York are now gone), so I’m less inclined to rage-post, but the show still plays fast and loose with history and continues to give its characters modern reactions: overreactions, justifications, shouting, back-talking in public, and so forth, like a band of overemotional teenagers at a frat party.
I’ll expound on the historical context where relevant, because I’m a history nerd and details fascinate me.
Public Meltdowns: Not Tudor Behavior
The writers continue to impose modern attitudes and behaviors on people who would not have had such “hysterical” displays of emotion in public. From Catherine breaking down into a teary apology for her father’s betrayal in front of the entire English court, to Henry VIII apologizing for wasting his nobles’ time and efforts in France, to Margaret Tudor punching her husband in the face in front of the Scottish court, the show portrays the royal family like modern teenagers instead of Renaissance monarchs.
Tudor monarchs were raised to believe in the divine right of kings. They were taught from a young age that they reigned by God’s will, and to question them was to question the divine order. Admitting error in public was unthinkable. It undermined their authority and could be politically dangerous and embolden their critics and enemies. Even if privately ashamed or regretful, no monarch would have publicly pleaded for mercy or acknowledged a mistake. To criticize another monarch (especially one’s own father in front of others) was likewise considered dishonorable and politically reckless. They were not like modern people, who bicker within their own families and trash-talk one another to their friends.
Lady-in-Waiting Overreach: Breaking Court Protocol
Catherine may have felt humiliated and betrayed by her father’s actions, but her lady-in-waiting Lena would not have openly rebuked her (“I told you not to trust him! You’ve made it harder for all of us!”). Ladies-in-waiting were subordinates. While close friendships often formed, protocol dictated restraint and deference, especially in emotionally charged or political moments. The series wants Lena to be both outspoken and subordinate, a contradiction that doesn’t hold up under historical scrutiny.
The Scottish Court: Uneasy Diplomacy or Public Slapstick?
The series paints James IV and Margaret Tudor’s marriage as openly hostile: she mocks his court, insults his masculinity, and punches him in the face in front of his lords. This depiction has little basis in fact. James IV and Margaret Tudor’s marriage was by most accounts affectionate, if marred by grief over multiple miscarriages and the deaths of their children. James treated Margaret with “kindness and affection,” and although he fathered several illegitimate children, Margaret tolerated these affairs, a common, if painful, reality for royal wives of the time.
While the Scottish court was indeed rougher and more informal than its English counterpart, Margaret was the granddaughter of Margaret Beaufort and known for her similar dignity. She would not have risked her own or her husband’s standing by insulting him in public. Weakening a king before his men was not just undignified, it could be deadly in a time when the monarchy was not always secure.
Slandering Ferdinand: An Unsupported Plot Device
The show has Catherine claim that her father “tried to weaken his daughters at every turn” out of jealousy for their mother. This isn’t accurate. Ferdinand was proud of his daughters and ensured they were highly educated. Catherine even opened Parliament in his name at a very young age, a strong sign of the respect he accorded her as his heir in England. The flashback scene of him slapping her hand away from candied grapes is an invented moment that portrays him cruelly, without historical backing.
Yes, from a modern view, Ferdinand could appear callous, particularly for allowing Catherine to languish in England for years between marriages. But this was due largely to financial and political constraints. He was embroiled in conflict with France and had lost the wealthy territory of Navarre. He knew Henry VII wouldn’t let her starve, and he withheld the remainder of her dowry strategically, not out of a desire to weaken her. He could not afford to finance her household in England, particularly after his wife died and he lost the joint ruler-ship of Spain. Castile was the richer kingdom of the two Spanish territories.
Catherine also accuses Ferdinand of stealing Juana’s throne. This is a modern reinterpretation. Juana (later called “la Loca”) was regarded by her contemporaries (including her own children) as mentally unstable. After Philip the Handsome’s death, Ferdinand acted as regent to preserve order. We will never know whether this was necessary or he took political advantage of her meltdown after her husband’s death. Catherine, raised with deference to her father and deeply loyal to him, would not have publicly criticized his motives or actions. In fact, she defended him to others throughout her life.
The French Campaign: What Really Happened
One accurate historical beat is Ferdinand abandoning Henry VIII during their planned joint invasion of France. Instead of joining forces, he secured Navarre for himself, leaving the English exposed and politically embarrassed. Henry was furious. But unlike in the show, it was Catherine who bore the brunt of his anger, not the one offering apologetic speeches in court.
Henry was not the passive, gentle man the show portrays. He could be petty, vindictive, and volatile. He blamed Catherine for her father’s betrayal, treating her with coldness rather than inviting her to speak publicly or tenderly refusing her advances. The series also has her ask to sleep in his bed, which is unlikely and another way to give her a modern sense of agency and control over their relationship. Royal protocol gave the king total authority over when conjugal visits happened. Catherine would not have initiated such a request, but would have waited for him to come to her bed.
The loss of their son would have been deeply painful. But in that era, infant mortality was common, and monarchs were expected to carry on stoically. They grieved, yes, but in private. Public rituals were rare. Once again, we see the show depicting them attending a royal funeral, which did not happen.
On the Battlefield: Knights, Glory, and Political Theater
In Tudor England, war was not only a means of territorial conquest but also personal glory. Nobles hoped for honor, rewards, and advancement. Boys were raised on tales of Arthurian legend, and chivalry still held symbolic weight. Even failed campaigns were spun as honorable adventures, an essential tool for maintaining morale and the king’s image. Rather than issue public apologies for their humiliation in France, Henry would have hosted a feast, spun the tale into a noble escapade, and roused enthusiasm for the next campaign. Public dissent or acknowledgment of failure would only embolden their enemies and undermine support for his next campaign. The writers can’t imagine a world in which you make a mistake and don’t profusely apologize to the lower classes (who hold you responsible) for it.
Ferdinand’s Visit: A Visual Shortcut
Having Ferdinand visit England may work dramatically, but historically it’s inaccurate. Monarchs rarely left their countries to negotiate. It was too risky. Enemies could invade, and legitimacy could be questioned in their absence. Any summit would have taken place on neutral ground or via ambassadors. This story line merges the 1511 France campaign with Charles V’s 1522 visit to England, a neat dramatic shortcut, but one that collapses years of diplomatic context. In real life, the Spanish ambassador negotiated with the king for this joint invasion. And even if Ferdinand had visited, he would not have looked for ways to demean his son-in-law verbally, because he needed his support in France. The series mentions that he is known as “the fox” in Spanish, which is true, but part of Ferdinand’s cleverness came from his cunning. Isabella was blunt in how she handled other people, but Ferdinand could smile at and charm them while plotting to betray them in the shadows. (Most historians agree that Catherine took after him, more than after her mother, in how she politely but ruthlessly outmaneuvered Henry later.)
War with France: Blame, Grief, and Gender Swaps
In reality, Henry VIII blamed Catherine for her father’s betrayal, not the other way around. The show depicts Catherine apologizing profusely and shouldering the fallout while Henry sulks in silence. This reversal of roles feeds into the “strong female lead” narrative but erases much of the real Henry’s impulsiveness and immaturity. His behavior of punishing her whenever he got mad at her (by dismissing her friends from court, giving her the silent treatment, and other immature tactics) was a foreshadowing of his cruelties later in life, when he deprived her of seeing her daughter even on her deathbed. In a way, the show seems to want Catherine punished for her actions and to justify Henry’s behaviors toward her, by softening them and making him the more reasonable of the two.
A Perfect Princess: Accurate Casting
To the show’s credit, the casting of young Princess Mary is excellent. Contemporary accounts and surviving portraits confirm that Mary Tudor was considered the most beautiful of the Tudor girls, and she was well known for her charm, musical ability, and courtly refinement.
Pole Family Tensions: Real, But Off-Key
The friction between Margaret Pole and her son Reginald is rooted in truth. He did resent her, in part due to being sent to the priory. However, he was unlikely to have lived with her again. Once sent to Sheen Priory, he was forwarded to Oxford, then Italy, where he became steeped in Renaissance humanism. By the time Margaret returned to court, Reginald was living abroad. While Thomas More and Reginald Pole shared humanist leanings, More never tutored him. In this episode, we meet More as if he’s a new arrival, but in reality, he had been at court for years and was married to a different woman than depicted here.
The One-Eyed Man: Blending Historical Figures
The series combines Sir Francis Bryan—famously called the “Vicar of Hell” and known for losing an eye in a joust—with Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, who suffered no such injury. It’s a jarring blend of two separate men into one for dramatic effect.
Step Back in Time with The Tudor Throne Series
While The Spanish Princess revamps Catherine’s story with dramatic flair, The Tudor Throne Series offers you a more historically accurate interpretation to the tapestry of events in her young life. Set earlier during Catherine of Aragon’s formative years, each novel blends rich historical details (family loyalties, dynastic alliances, and peril) with the emotional depth and suspense you crave.
