by Jean Plaidy
She put her arms round me as she sometimes did when we were alone. “My dearest, the difference in your and the Emperor's age was so great. You see, if you could have been married immediately…”
“I am glad we did not. If he could not be faithful…if he could not keep his promises…it was better as it is.”
She held me against her soothingly. Then she said, “There will be other arrangements.”
“I shall not regard them with any seriousness.”
“Well, you are young and it would be a year or two before any plans came to fruition.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, Countess?” I asked. “Yes. But you must not take it seriously. It would never come to pass. It is just a gesture.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The King of France.”
I stared at her incredulously. The King of France! My father's enemy! The man who had been described to me as the most wicked in Europe. The man who had tried to humiliate my father at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. It was impossible to believe.
“But we were at war with him.”
“That is over. There is now peace, and our two countries are friends again. We are against the Emperor now.”
“Oh no… no!” I cried.
“You must not be upset. It will never come to anything. I did not want it to shock you. That is why I warn you. You should not be unduly alarmed. It will never happen.”
“I thought he was the Emperor's prisoner.”
“There has been a treaty between them … the Treaty of Madrid. François is free, but there are harsh terms. He is having to give up much land to the Emperor…Milan, Naples and Burgundy, I believe, among much else. In the meantime he has been allowed his freedom, but he has sent his two sons to Madrid as hostages.”
“And he has agreed to that?”
“His sons are there now.”
“How could he? They are only little boys.”
“It is necessary that he return to his country. It is all very complicated.”
“And my father would marry me to this man!”
“I doubt there is any serious intention of doing that. It is just a gesture to the Emperor. You see, no ruler likes to see another too powerful, and several states are forming a league against the Emperor now.”
“It's horrible,” I said. “I hate it.”
“It is the way states are governed.”
“I shall never govern that way.”
She smiled at me. “You will be a wise and benign ruler, I know. But, just now you must not be disturbed about this proposed alliance. I will be ready to swear that nothing will come of it. There is another matter. One of the terms of the Treaty of Madrid is that François shall marry Charles' sister, Eleanora. He cannot evade his obligations because he has to think of his two hostage sons.”
“How old is the King of France, Countess?” I asked.
“About thirty-two.”
She did not add that most of those years had been spent in debauchery and that, coupled with the fact that he had been languishing in a Madrid prison where he had come near to death and probably would have died if his sister, Marguerite, had not gone out to nurse him, he would probably seem older than his years warranted.
The King of France! He haunted my dreams. I had never seen him but I had often pictured his dark, satanic face. I had heard it said that no woman was safe once he had cast his lecherous eyes on her. Could it really be that my father would contemplate marrying me to such a man?
Not only had I lost my hero, the Emperor, but there was a possibility that I should be thrown to this monster.
Just as I had thought I was growing up and having power was going to be a wonderful experience, the truth was borne home to me. I was a woman. I could be snatched from my home at any moment. I could be given to any husband who happened to be important in the game of politics. It was the fate of princesses.
I lived in trepidation of the arrival of messengers from Court, demanding my presence that I might be betrothed to the fearsome and terrifying King of France.
THE DAYS BEGAN to pass and no one came to Court. The Countess said that it was such an absurd proposition that no one could take it seriously. I could rest assured that it was just an attempt to show the kindly feelings of England to a recent enemy.
My status at Ludlow had made me more interested in politics. But perhaps that was just because I was growing up. I should have liked to hear more of what was happening among the states of Europe than what occurred in the ancient Roman Empire. I had had a taste of authority and had seen how possible it was that one day I should rule England. My mother was now past childbearing and there was no one but myself; and the fact that I had been made Princess of Wales and given my own little Court at Ludlow was surely significant.
The defection of the Emperor had made me more aware. I must thrust aside sentimentality. I must cease to dream of chivalry and romance. That was not for such as I was, and oddly enough I did not wish it to be different. My little taste of power had changed me. I felt a glow of satisfaction when I thought of the crown.
And then we had a visitor to Ludlow. The Countess brought him to me and said with great pride, “Your Highness, may I present you to my son?”
And there was Reginald Pole. I held out my hand; he took it and kissed it. He was very handsome and I liked him as soon as I saw him. He had a good face, and in spite of my growing cynicism, I very much wished to retain my belief in the triumph of goodness over evil. I warmed to him.
He was respectful but by no means subservient. I might be a Tudor but he was of the Plantagenet line, as royal as I—some would say more so.
He was of middle height and very slender, with a fair complexion, light brown hair and blueish gray eyes—a handsome man, but he had more than good looks. There was a nobility about him which came from within and colored his entire personality.
“Reginald has just returned from Padua, where he has been studying,” went on the Countess.
“Do you intend to stay here in England?” I asked.
“I am as yet unsure, Princess,” he replied. “So much depends on what happens.”
“The King received him with great pleasure,” the Countess told me.
“Yes,” agreed Reginald. “He was very gracious to me. I told him that I should doubtless go to the Carthusian Monastery at Sheen to continue my studies.”
During the next days I was in the company of Reginald Pole a good deal. Although he was many years older than I—about sixteen, I believe—we were drawn to each other. I was glad then that Johannes Ludovicus Vives had made me study as I did because I could see now that I astonished Reginald with my learning.
The Countess was delighted by our friendship, and I believe she contrived it so that we should often be alone together. He used to talk to me as though I were of his own age which flattered me considerably. In Reginald's company I forgot my disappointment at the Emperor's perfidy and the impending dread of a possible marriage with François Premier.
Reginald had a great admiration and love for my father, which delighted me; he was also deeply attached to my mother.
His conversation was erudite but never condescending, and I always felt elevated after my sessions with him. He was frank about the past and my family's accession to the throne. Reginald was the sort of man who would maintain the truth at all costs and have died rather than deny it. He gave me back my belief in mankind. I shall always be grateful to Reginald Pole because he came into my life when I was bewildered and needed to have my faith restored. While there were such men as he was, I could believe in the human race again and should always do so.
He talked about his grandfather, George, Duke of Clarence who had died in the Tower at the instigation, some thought, of his brother King Edward IV.
“Oh,” he said, “it is indeed dangerous to live close to the crown. You will always have to be on your guard, Princess.”
“I know that now.”
“One day you could be Queen
of this country. You must be prepared.”
“I will be,” I told him. “I am determined to.”
“You are so young,” he said, smiling tenderly. “I feel I have advanced far in the last year.”
He understood at once. He knew that I had been bandied from the Emperor to the King of France. I think that when a closeness grows up between two people they can often understand what is in each other's minds without the use of words.
“The match with François will never take place,” he assured me.
“I fervently hope and pray that it will not.”
“You can put your fears away. François will have to marry the Emperor's sister. He dare not refuse. His sons are in jeopardy. The match with you was never meant to be taken seriously.”
He told me how delighted he was to see the friendship between me and his mother.
“You are as dear to her as her own flesh and blood,” he told me. “We have been together so long.”
“My mother is a wonderful woman. The King has been good to her. He restored her estates when he came to the throne and that was to compensate for the murder by the previous King of my uncle, the Earl of Warwick, who had a claim to the throne.”
“I know. I am sorry it was my grandfather who behaved so.”
“It is the lust for power. The glitter of the crown. Your grandfather felt it necessary. He was a man who never murdered for the sake of revenge or such motives—only when he feared the security of the crown.”
“Does that excuse him?” I asked.
“In the eyes of some who believe his motives were for the good of the country, yes. Those who think it is for the love of personal aggrandizement and power, no. And some believe that to murder in any circumstances is a mortal sin. You see, when there is more than one claimant to the throne the result can be civil war. Your grandfather, I am convinced, thought that should be stopped at all costs, and if the death of one man can save the lives of many which would be lost if there were war … his actions could be justified.”
“And what do you believe?”
“That each case should be judged by its merits.”
“Then you would excuse the murder of the Princes in the Tower?”
“Ah, you are getting into deep water, Princess. That remains a mystery, and it is always unwise to judge without being in possession of all the facts.”
“Is one ever in possession of all of them?”
“Hardly ever, I imagine.”
“Then it is always unwise to judge.”
He smiled that very sweet and gentle smile which I was growing to love. He said, “I see you are a very logical princess. One must be sure of one's premise when in discussion with you.”
I liked to lure him into talking about himself. He had stories to tell of his first five years at Stourton Castle with his brothers and sister. Henry and Arthur were older than he was, and after his birth Geoffry and Ursula had joined the nursery. I had often heard the Countess talk of them, and I could well imagine that happy household presided over by my dear friend and governess, for most certainly she would give to her own children the same loving care which she had bestowed on me.
He told me how he had loved the Charterhouse at Sheen, where he had spent five years. Like myself, he had taken to learning and had always had the desire to add to his store of knowledge. In many ways we were very much alike. I suppose that was why, in such a short time, we had become such good friends.
“Your father always interested himself in me,” he told me. “He could not forget what happened to my uncle. He carried his father's conscience.”
I glowed with pleasure because of this. I wanted so much for my father to be a good man as well as handsome and distinguished and able to shine above all others. I had uneasy twinges when I heard about the birth of Henry Fitzroy after his elevation, both of which had caused great sorrow to my mother.
“The King insisted on paying for part of my education,” Reginald told me. “He always calls me cousin. Then I went to Oxford, and there my tutor was Doctor Thomas Linacre who, I believe, was concerned with your education.”
“Oh yes—and my Uncle Arthur's too. He is a great scholar.”
“I owe him much. My mother always intended that I should go in the Church. I think my father expressed the wish that I should do so before he died.”
“And do you intend to?”
“Yes… but later. It is a decision I do not want to take just yet. I want to do more study. I want to travel more. I might wish to marry.”
“Yes,” I said. “Perhaps you will.”
He smiled at me and I felt a sudden lifting of the heart. I thought: Suppose they were to choose Reginald for my husband, how should I feel? But of course they would not. In my position I should be reserved for a ruler. I should be betrothed when it was convenient to make some treaty. That did not matter much—the treaty would surely be broken before the marriage took place.
“In the meantime,” he was saying, “I have seen something of the world and I shall see more if I am as fortunate as I have been so far. People have been good to me in my travels abroad. Oh, it was not myself who was honored. It was the King, for I was his representative. There were times, I confess, when I might have been guilty of pride; but I always reminded myself of the truth.”
The days passed with astonishing speed. I was constantly afraid that one day he would tell me he was leaving. But he lingered and his mother smiled benignly on us.
“I believe, Princess,” she said to me, “that my son finds it difficult to tear himself away from Ludlow.”
Then one day messengers arrived. I was terrified that they might bring news of my proposed marriage to François. I had been lulled into a sense of security, for everyone had assured me that there was no danger of the match's ever taking place. But when I saw the messengers I awaited their revelations in trepidation.
In due course the Countess came to me.
“We are to leave Ludlow tomorrow and go to Greenwich,” she told me.
I looked at her apprehensively but her smile told me that my fears were without foundation.
“There will be no marriage with the King of France,” she said. “He has said that he knows of your erudition, your beauty, your virtue, and of course you are of royal birth. He says he has as great a mind to marry you as any woman, but he is sworn to Eleanora, the sister of the Emperor Charles, and she is the one he must take to wife; and while the Emperor has his sons, he has no alternative.”
I clasped my hands together in relief.
“Was that not what I always said?” demanded the Countess.
“It was,” I replied.
She hesitated for a moment, then she said: “There is another proposition.”
I stared at her in growing concern.
“This marriage could not take place for a very long time. As you cannot marry the father, you are to be affianced to his son.”
“He… who is in captivity?”
“With his elder brother, yes. It is to be the little Duke of Orleans for you—the second son of the King of France.”
“He is only a child.”
“That is all to the good. There will be a long delay before the nuptials.”
My pleasure in the knowledge that I was no longer to marry the King of France was dampened a little because I was to take his son. So from a bridegroom who was thirty-two I was to be given one who was three years younger than myself.
I felt frustrated and humiliated. It was distressing to be passed from one to another in this way. At the same time I must rejoice in having escaped a man whose reputation for lechery was notorious; and the little prince did not seem so bad in comparison, particularly as he had such a long way to go before he grew up.
“The French envoys will be coming over soon,” said the Countess, “and you know what this will mean.”
“Yes. We are to leave Ludlow tomorrow.”
“For Greenwich.”
So that pleasant interlude was over. It had l
asted for about eighteen months; but it was the last weeks which had been the most enjoyable, and that was due to the presence of Reginald Pole.
GREENWICH HAD ALWAYS BEEN of especial importance to me. I suppose the place where one was born always must be. My father was born there too. He loved it, and it was natural that he should choose it as the place where he would receive the French envoys who had come to draw up the terms of my betrothal to the Prince of France.
My grandfather, King Henry VII, had enlarged the Palace and added a brick front to it where it faced the river. The tower in the park had been started some years before, and he finished it. My grandfather was a man who could never bear disorder. He was, I gathered, constantly anxious lest someone should take the throne from him, and I imagine he felt guilty for having snatched it from the Plantagenets. He was frequently trying to placate God, and at Greenwich he did this by building a convent adjoining the Palace and putting it at the disposal of the Grey Friars.
Everything my father did must be bigger and better than others had achieved before, and when he came to the throne, loving Greenwich dearly as his birthplace, he enlarged it, and it was now more magnificent than it had ever been before.
So it was not surprising that he, who always wished to impress foreigners with his grandeur—and none more than the French—should entertain their envoys at Greenwich.
I was received with affection by him and my mother. My father, ebullient and boisterous, lifted me up as though I were a child and looked at me. He laughed, as though delighted with what he saw, and gave me a hearty kiss on the cheek.
“Ah, you are fortunate, sweetheart,” he said. “You see how I plan for you? You are to have a grand marriage … as you deserve, I know full well. Such reports we have had from my Lady Salisbury. And now for the merrymaking.”
My mother was quiet. The change in her gave me a sick feeling of fear. All was not well. I noticed the gray in her hair; she had put on weight—not healthily—and her skin was sallow.
She smiled at me with great tenderness and I longed to comfort her.
I sensed that something terrible was wrong, though there was no sign of this from my father.
I learned that I was to take a major part in the revels for the French envoys, led by the Bishop of Tarbes, and I must be prepared.
