by Jean Plaidy
“The Emperor is considering marrying Isabel of Portugal.”
“But how can he do that?”
“With the greatest of ease. He has asked your father to send you to Spain immediately, with your dowry of 400,000 ducats, and he wants an undertaking from your father to contribute half of the expenses of the war with France. Those are his terms. He knows they are ones which your father cannot fulfill for he could not raise the money without plunging this country into disorder.”
“So that means…”
“It means that the Emperor is hinting that the agreement with your father is coming to an end.”
“So it was not I whom he loved…”
“Little Princess, it never was. We do not live in a dream world where gallant knights in shining armor die for their ladies. It is a harsh world, and the realities are quite different. There is love. You have mine. I would do anything I could for your happiness; and you know how dear you are to your mother. But we live close to you. We know you. You are a living human being to us. You are not a counter in a game to be moved this way or that. You are our own dear Princess whom we love. That is the love to seek and cherish; and perhaps, in time, when a husband is found for you, you will grow together and love each other in due course. It happens again and again.
“I was eighteen years old when I married. It is a good age to marry, for although one is young, one has had time to glean some experience. My husband was chosen for me.” Her eyes were reminiscent, as she went on, “He was Sir Richard Pole and owned lands in Buckinghamshire. The King, your grandfather, approved of the match and he made him a Squire of the Body and a Knight of the Garter. He served the King faithfully. He distinguished himself in the Perkin Warbeck revolt and he fought well for the King in Scotland. Then he went to Wales as a Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Prince Arthur, who, as you know, was married to your mother before she married the King.”
“Yes, I know,” I said, “but it was no real marriage. He was too young and sick.”
She nodded. “My husband and I were married for nearly fourteen years and then he died.”
“You must have been very sad.”
“Yes… but I had my children. You see, there are compensations. They made it all worth while. We had five children: Henry, Arthur, Reginald, Geoffry and Ursula.”
“My mother must envy you. She is sad because she has only one.”
“But that one is more precious to her because she is the only one.”
“But all yours are precious to you. I know by the way you speak of them…particularly Reginald.”
“Parents should not have a favorite.”
“But they do… and yours is Reginald.”
She smiled at me. “So you see, my dear, you must not grieve. You must look for happiness. You must accept your lot, and if the marriage with the Emperor does not take place, after all, you will say to yourself, perhaps it was for the best.”
“I cannot forget him as easily as that.”
“Dear child, you did not know him. You have built up a picture of him. You are so young. You know nothing of these matters.”
“Because no one tells me.”
She was silent for a while. Then she said, “Perhaps I have talked too much. Your mother is very unhappy at this time.”
“She wanted so much for me to marry the Emperor because he is half Spanish and her nephew.”
“Yes. You should wait until she talks to you of these matters. She has much on her mind. When she is with you, you must try to distract her from her melancholy. Do not let her see that you are affected because this marriage with the Emperor is not to take place.”
I nodded gravely. She took my hand and kissed it.
“You are a good child,” she said and there were tears in her eyes. “I hope and pray that all goes well with you. It has been my great privilege to serve in your household, and you will always be as my own to me.”
I kissed her tenderly. I loved her very much and I could see how anxious she was, fearing that she had said too much. What she had said could have been construed as treason. Since her brother, Edward, Earl of Warwick, had been murdered on the orders of my grandfather, Henry VII, for no other reason than that he was a Plantagenet with a claim to the throne, the Countess had lived under the shadow of the axe, for it could descend upon her if she were to utter one careless word which could be construed as treason.
She had taken certain risks in talking to me so frankly, and I knew that it was because of her love for me that she had done so. She had realized that certain events could not be kept from me much longer and she wanted to prepare me for them.
I was desolate. I told myself that I should be heartbroken if it really came to pass that the Emperor jilted me.
NOW THAT THE COUNTESS had spoken to me more frankly than ever before, the ice was broken and she was less restrained than she had been hitherto. She must have felt that, having gone so far, there was no point in holding anything back which it would soon be impossible to keep from me for long.
But I was still in the dark regarding the really great trouble which was to make such a difference to both my mother and me and which was to cast a dark shadow over our lives. I thought at the time that my mother's tragic looks were due solely to the fact that she was upset because of the strained relationship between my father and the Emperor, but I soon learned this was not so.
An event took place in June of that year which I found irritating, though little did I understand its significance at that time.
I had always been aware of the existence of Henry Fitzroy and what a trial he was to my mother because he was a continual reproach to her. She could not give the King a son but another woman could, which pointed to the conclusion that the fault lay with the Queen.
Henry Fitzroy had been born in June six years before, and to celebrate his birthday there was a very grand ceremony, and on that day he was made a Knight of the Garter.
To bestow such an honor on one so young seemed in itself ridiculous but the King was anxious to show his feelings for his son, and at this time— though I learned this later—he was calling attention to the sorry plight in which he and the nation had been placed by his marriage to a woman who could not bear a son.
I did not see my mother at this time. Even my father would not expect her to be present at such a ceremony, for he must have realized how painful it would be to her. It was an indication of his resentment that he had allowed it to take place. Later I saw how every act of his at this time was working toward one end.
This ceremony concerned me too. I was the heir to the throne. What did the King mean by bestowing such an honor on his bastard? It must have occurred to many that he intended to set the boy above me. It would never be tolerated. The people of England would not have a bastard on the throne.
Being but nine years old, and only just made aware of the perfidy of rulers, I could not grasp the significance of these events; but at the same time I was aware of disaster looming. It was like the shivering of aspen leaves when a storm is approaching; it was in the silences of people around me and the sudden termination of conversations when I approached.
Soon after the ceremony the French envoy, De Vaux, came to London. He had been sent, the Countess told me, by the mother of François who was acting as the Regent of France during the King's absence in Madrid.
“Why is he here?” I asked.
“It is to make terms with your father.”
“That means there is peace with France?”
“There will be.”
“What of the Emperor? Our alliance with him is over?”
“Well, the war is over now.”
“So we are no longer friends with him?”
“Oh, it will be amicably settled… but no one has any wish to continue with the war.”
“But why does the French envoy come here?”
“He will make peace terms with your father.”
“It seems so strange. We hated them so much and now there are lavish e
ntertainments for the French.”
“That is diplomacy.”
“I do not understand it.”
“Few people understand diplomacy. It is a veil of discretion and politeness covering the real meaning.”
“Why do people not say what they mean?”
“Because that could be very disturbing.”
I did know that I was one of the subjects which was being discussed by my father, the Cardinal and the French envoy. First it was announced that I was to go to Ludlow.
My mother came to tell me this. I noticed that she looked older. There was gray in her hair, more lines on her face, and her skin had lost its healthy color.
“You are to go to Ludlow, my dear child,” she told me. “You will like it there.”
“I wonder why I am so suddenly to go,” I said. I was beginning to realize that there were usually reasons.
“Your father thinks it would be good for you to go. You see, Ludlow is an important place. Your Uncle Arthur was there just before he died. I remember it well. It is a very beautiful spot. Prince Arthur was Prince of Wales when he was there, and you will be the Princess of Wales. Your father is going to give you that title.”
I was pleased, particularly as I had felt that fluttering of alarm because of the honor done to Henry Fitzroy.
“Your household will go with you,” my mother explained. “It will be just as it is here.”
“And you, my lady?”
Her lips tightened as though she were trying to control some emotion.
“I shall, of course, be with the Court. But we shall meet often and there will be no change. Your father will wish you to go very soon.”
The Countess told me that it was good that we were going. “It means,” she explained, “that your father is telling the world that you are Princess of Wales.”
“That means the heir to the throne, does it not?”
“It does indeed.”
“Perhaps he thought that people wondered after the honor done to Henry Fitzroy.”
“Oh, that was not important. You must not think that it detracts from you. You are his daughter. Everyone knows that. They know the respect that is due to you. Now we shall have to prepare for your departure, which I believe is to be soon.”
MY PARENTS AND the Court accompanied me to Langley in Hertfordshire, and there I said goodbye to them. There was some constraint between my parents, and I thought there was something forced in my father's laughter. He was almost boisterously merry. He embraced me warmly and referred to me as his Princess, the Princess of Wales.
The Countess had told me that it was the first time the title had been bestowed on a member of the female sex, so I should be very proud. My mother smiled on me warmly but she could not hide her sorrow from me. I wanted to protect her, to share her unhappiness—if she would but tell me the cause of it. I still thought it had something to do with the Emperor and believed we might have comforted each other.
There was a certain sadness when we parted, although my mother said we should meet often and my father took every opportunity of showing his affection for me.
At length they had gone and I, with my entourage, made my way to Ludlow.
The countryside is exceptionally beautiful, and the castle stood on the north-west side of the charming town. Some of the people came out of their houses to cheer me as I passed, and that pleased me.
The Countess told me that in the castle I should have a larger household than I had had before. Princess Mary had become the Princess of Wales, and there was a distinction.
I was gratified. I had been foolish, I told myself, to have had qualms about the little bastard Fitzroy. How could I have thought that the King would contemplate putting him above me just because he was a boy? The people loved me. They had shown that. “God bless the little Princess,” they had shouted. They could not call Henry Fitzroy a prince. He was, after all, only Bessie Blount's son and I was the daughter of a princess of Spain.
The castle was a fine example of Norman architecture, having been built very soon after the Norman Conquest by a certain Roger de Montgomery. In a way there were sad memories within its walls for there, after the death of his father, little Edward V had lived for a while. It was in this very castle that he had been proclaimed King, and three months later he had been in the Tower with his young brother the Duke of York where, it was said, he had been murdered by his uncle, Richard III. I could not help thinking of that little boy who had lived here with a terrible fate hanging over him. It was a reminder of what harm could come to princes from those who coveted the throne.
My mother's first husband had lived here with her for five months before he died in this very castle. I imagined her living here…a young girl…in a new land. How sad for her when, so young, she found herself a widow.
She had spoken of those days with sadness. It was as though she looked shudderingly over her shoulder at the past. She had been alone and poor for so long before my father, like a gallant knight, had rescued her and made her his bride.
And now here was I, wondering now and then why I had been elevated and given a larger household. I did not know then that it was less grand than that which had been bestowed on Henry Fitzroy.
Life was different here. It was my first taste of queenship, for I was a little queen here. I was made to feel important. I had certain duties, and they were those of a ruler. I realized I was learning how to rule. People brought petitions to me and I presided over a Council. The Countess was invariably at my side. She taught me how to speak to the Council, how to deal with the people who came asking favors. There was less time spent at my desk. These were different lessons.
My household consisted of an impressive number of officials. I had my Lord Steward, the Chamberlain, Treasurer and Controller and many more, including fourteen ladies, all of high birth and in the charge of the Countess who ruled over us all and to whom I could always turn in moments of uncertainty.
I was forgetting my disappointment over the Emperor, although I could not entirely believe that he would not marry me. All the same, I was enjoying my new status. This was a miniature Court and I was learning to become a queen. I realized that I should enjoy that very much.
How different life had become from those long days of study under the guidance of Johannes Ludovicus Vives. The only thing lacking was the company of my mother. I thought of her often and used to say to myself: I wonder whether she sat here? Did she and Arthur walk along this path? It was long, long before I was born. It is hard when one is young to imagine a world without oneself.
Christmas came. It was a very merry one. I was at the center of the revelry. We had our Lord of Misrule and many masques and I led the dances.
The Countess said she was delighted that I was enjoying the fun. I had a faint impression, though, that she was keeping something from me, which brought a little uneasiness into the jollity; but in those first months at Ludlow I was a little intoxicated with my new power. I had learned that I cared passionately about my position. I had not known before how much I wanted to be a queen.
It was March when I heard the news.
The Countess told me.
“You never talk of the Emperor now as you used to,” she said.
“I think of him still,” I told her.
“But you now understand, don't you, that the betrothal was in truth a matter of state… and such are laid on flimsy foundations?”
“What do you want to tell me, Countess?”
She sighed. “Well, you have to know, but I believe it will not be such a shock as it might have been if you had not been warned. The Emperor has married Isabel of Portugal.”
I stared at her unbelievingly. Although it had been hinted that this marriage might take place, I had never expected that it would. He had been promised to me and I to him. How could he have married someone else?
The Countess was looking at me helplessly. “You were only six,” she reminded me, “and you only saw him for such a short time. It was all buil
t up in your mind. You will see that when you look at it more clearly.”
“Yes,” I said, “it was all built up in my mind.”
I pretended not to care. But I did; and often, when I was alone in my bed, I shed tears for the perfidy of rulers, for the loss of my beliefs, for the fact that my childish innocence had gone forever.
THE EMPEROR'S MARRIAGE CAST A BLIGHT OVER MY LIFE for some weeks. I would wake in the morning and ask myself how he could have behaved so. It could not be that he had been forced to. No one could force emperors. He could do as he wished, just as my father could. And he had abandoned me.
I tried to console myself that it was simply because of my youth. Had I been as old as Isabel of Portugal, he would have married me.
I wished that I could see my mother. I thought of how sad she would be, for she had so wanted me to marry her nephew and live in Spain.
But it was not to be, and life at Ludlow was very pleasant because I had tasted power and found that I liked it very much.
It was soon brought home to me that happiness was a fleeting emotion.
The Countess came to me one day and with some hesitation made a revelation to me that I found quite horrific.
What a wonderful person she was. She thought of me at every turn, and I knew she would without hesitation put herself in danger for my sake. At the time, of course, I did not fully realize how precariously placed were those who had Plantagenet blood in their veins.
The Countess knew that she must step warily but she was not lacking in courage and would always do what she considered right, no matter what the risk. On this occasion I was sure she felt she must prepare me for what was to come.
She began: “You know, Princess, that the question of your marriage will be of considerable importance to your father. It is necessarily so because of your position.”
“Yes, I know that,” I said. “But what is the use of making engagements when no one really considers them seriously?”
“They are of importance when they are made.”
“To be honored only when people don't change their minds,” I remarked with some bitterness.
