_CHAPTER XXI_
_Letters from a Queen_
Upon our return to England I left Jane down in Suffolk with her uncle,Lord Bolingbroke, having determined never to permit her to come withinsight of King Henry again, if I could prevent it. I then went up toLondon with the twofold purpose of seeing Brandon and resigning myplace as Master of the Dance.
When I presented myself to the king and told him of my marriage, heflew into a great passion because we had not asked his consent. One ofhis whims was that everyone must ask his permission to do anything; toeat, or sleep, or say one's prayers; especially to marry, if the ladywas of a degree entitled to be a king's ward. Jane, fortunately, hadno estate, the king's father having stolen it from her when she was aninfant; so all the king could do about our marriage was to grumble,which I let him do to his heart's content.
"I wish also to thank your majesty for the thousand kindnesses youhave shown me," I said, "and, although it grieves me to the heart toseparate from you, circumstances compel me to tender my resignation asyour Master of Dance." Upon this he was kind enough to express regret,and ask me to reconsider; but I stood my ground firmly, and then andthere ended my official relations with Henry Tudor forever.
Upon taking my leave of the king I sought Brandon, whom I foundcomfortably ensconced in our old quarters, he preferring them to muchmore pretentious apartments offered him in another part of the palace.The king had given him some new furnishings for them, and as I was toremain a few days to attend to some matters of business, he invited meto share his comfort with him, and I gladly did so.
Those few days with Brandon were my farewell to individuality.Thereafter I was to be so mysteriously intermingled with Jane that Iwas only a part--and a small part at that I fear--of two. I did not,of course, regret the change, since it was the one thing in life Imost longed for, yet the period was tinged with a faint sentiment ofpathos at parting from the old life that had been so kind to me, andwhich I was leaving forever. I say I did not regret it, and though Iwas leaving my old haunts and companions and friends so dear to me, Iwas finding them all again in Jane, who was friend as well as wife.
Mary's letter was in one of my boxes which had been delayed, and Janewas to forward it to me when it should come. When I told Brandon ofit, I dwelt with emphasis upon its bulk, and he, of course, wasdelighted, and impatient to have it. I had put the letter in the box,but there was something else which Mary had sent to him that I hadcarried with me. It was a sum of money sufficient to pay the debtagainst his father's estate, and in addition, to buy some large tractsof land adjoining. Brandon did not hesitate to accept the money, andseemed glad that it had come from Mary, she, doubtless, being the onlyperson from whom he would have taken it.
One of Brandon's sisters had married a rich merchant at Ipswich, andanother was soon to marry a Scotch gentleman. The brother wouldprobably never marry, so Brandon would eventually have to take chargeof the estates. In fact, he afterwards lived there many years, and asJane and I had purchased a little estate near by, which had beengenerously added to by Jane's uncle, we saw a great deal of him. But Iam getting ahead of my story again.
The d'Angouleme complication troubled me greatly, notwithstanding myfaith in Mary, and although I had resolved to say nothing to Brandonabout it, I soon told him plainly what I thought and feared.
He replied with a low, contented little laugh.
"Do not fear for Mary, I do not. That young fellow is of differentstuff, I know, from the old king, but I have all faith in her purityand ability to take care of herself. Before she left she promised tobe true to me, whatever befell, and I trust her entirely. I am not sounhappy by any means as one would expect. Am I?" And I was compelledto admit that he certainly was not.
So it seems they had met, as Jane and I suspected, but how Marymanaged it I am sure I cannot tell; she beat the very deuce for havingher own way, by hook or by crook. Then came the bulky letter, whichBrandon pounced upon and eagerly devoured. I leave out most of thesentimental passages, which, like effervescent wine, lose flavorquickly. She said--in part:
"_To Master Brandon:_
"Sir and Dear Friend, Greeting--After leaving thee, long time had I that mighty grief and dole within my heart that it was like to break; for my separation from thee was so much harder to bear even than I had taken thought of, and I also doubted me that I could live in Paris, as I did wish. Sleep rested not upon my weary eyes, and of a very deed could I neither eat nor drink, since food distasted me like a nausea, and wine did strangle in my throat. This lasted through my journey hither, which I did prolong upon many pretexts, nearly two months, but when I did at last rest mine eyes for the first time upon this King Louis's face, I well knew that I could rule him, and when I did arrive, and had adjusted myself in this Paris, I found it so easy that my heart leaped for very joy. Beauty goeth so far with this inflammable people that easily do I rule them all, and truly doth a servile subject make a sharp, capricious tyrant. Thereby the misfortune which hath come upon us is of so much less evil, and is so like to be of such short duration, that I am almost happy--but for lack of thee--and sometimes think that after all it may verily be a blessing unseen.
"This new, unexpected face upon our trouble hath so driven the old gnawing ache out of my heart that I love to be alone, and dream, open-eyed, of the time, of a surety not far off, when I shall be with thee.... It is ofttimes sore hard for me, who have never waited, to have to wait, like a patient Griselda, which of a truth I am not, for this which I do so want; but I try to make myself content with the thought that full sure it will not be for long, and that when this tedious time hath spent itself, we shall look back upon it as a very soul-school, and shall rather joy that we did not purchase our heaven too cheaply.
"I said I find it easy to live here as I wish, and did begin to tell thee how it was, when I ran off into telling of how I long for thee; so I will try again. This Louis, to begin with, is but the veriest shadow of a man, of whom thou needst have not one jealous thought. He is on a bed of sickness most of the time, of his own accord, and if, perchance, he be but fairly well a day or so, I do straightway make him ill again in one way or another, and, please God, hope to wear him out entirely ere long time. Of a deed, brother Henry was right; better had it been for Louis to have married a human devil than me, for it maketh a very one out of me if mine eyes but rest upon him, and thou knowest full well what kind of a devil I make--brother Henry knoweth, at any rate. For all this do I grieve, but have no remedy, nor want one. I sometimes do almost compassionate the old king, but I cannot forbear, for he turneth my very blood to biting gall, and must e'en take the consequences of his own folly. Truly is he wild for love of me, this poor old man, and the more I hold him at a distance the more he fondly dotes. I do verily believe he would try to stand upon his foolish old head, did I but insist. I sometimes have a thought to make him try it. He doeth enough that is senseless and absurd, in all conscience, as it is. At all of this do the courtiers smile, and laugh, and put me forward to other pranks; that is, all but a few of the elders, who shake their heads, but dare do nothing else for fear of the dauphin, who will soon be king, and who stands first in urging and abetting me. So it is easy for me to do what I wish, and above all to leave undone that which I wish not, for I do easily rule them all, as good Sir Edwin and dear Jane will testify. I have a ball every night, wherein I do make a deal of amusement for every one by dancing La Volta with his majesty until his heels, and his poor old head, too, are like to fall off. Others importune me for those dances, especially the dauphin, but I laugh and shake my head and say that I will dance with no one but the king, because he dances so well. This pleases his majesty mightily, and maketh an opening for me to avoid the touch of other men, for I am jealous of myself for thy sake, and save and garner every little touch for thee.... Sir Edwin will tell you I dance with no one else and surely never will. You remember well, I doubt not, when thou first didst teach me this new da
nce. Ah! how delightful it was! and yet how at first it did frighten and anger me. Thou canst not know how my heart beat during all the time of that first dance. I thought, of a surety, it would burst; and then the wild thrill of frightened ecstasy that made my blood run like fire! I knew it must be wrong, for it was, in truth, too sweet a thing to be right. And then I grew angry at thee as the cause of my wrong-doing and scolded thee, and repented it, as usual. Truly didst thou conquer, not win me. Then afterwards, withal it so frightened me, how I longed to dance again, and could in no way stay myself from asking. At times could I hardly wait till evening fell, and when upon occasion thou didst not come, I was so angry I said I hated thee. What must thou have thought of me, so forward and bold! And that afternoon! Ah! I think of it every hour, and see and hear it all, and live it o'er and o'er, as it sweeter grows with memory's ripening touch. Some moments there are, that send their glad ripple down through life's stream to the verge of the grave, and truly blest is one who can smile upon and kiss these memory waves, and draw from thence a bliss that never fails. But thou knowest full well my heart, and I need not tease thee with its outpourings.
"There is yet another matter of which I wish to write in very earnestness. Sir Edwin spoke to me thereof, and what he said hath given me serious thought. I thank him for his words, of which he will tell thee in full if thou but importune him thereto. It is this: the Dauphin, Francis d'Angouleme, hath fallen desperately fond of me, and is quite as importunate, and almost as foolish as the elder lover. This people, in this strange land of France, have, in sooth, some curious notions. For an example thereto: no one thinks to find anything unseeming in the dauphin's conduct, by reason of his having already a wife, and more, that wife the Princess Claude, daughter to the king. I laugh at him and let him say what he will, for in truth I am powerless to prevent it. Words cannot scar even a rose leaf, and will not harm me. Then, by his help and example I am justified in the eyes of the court in that I so treat the king, which otherwise it were impossible for me to do and live here. So, however much I may loathe them, yet I am driven to tolerate his words, which I turn off with a laugh, making sure, thou mayest know, that it come to nothing more than words. And thus it is, however much I wish it not, that I do use him to help me treat the king as I like, and do then use the poor old king as my buckler against this duke's too great familiarity. But my friend, when the king comes to die then shall I have my fears of this young Francis d'Angouleme. He is desperate for me, and I know not to what length he might go. The king cannot live long, as the thread of his life is like rotten flax, and when he dies thou must come without delay, since I shall be in deadly peril. I have a messenger waiting at all hours ready to send to thee upon a moment's notice, and when he comes waste not a precious instant; it may mean all to thee and me. I could write on and on forever, but it would be only to tell thee o'er and o'er that my heart is full of thee to overflowing. I thank thee that thou hast never doubted me, and will see that thou hast hereafter only good cause for better faith.
"MARY, Regina."
"Regina!" That was all. Only a queen! Surely no one could chargeBrandon with possessing too modest tastes.
It was, I think, during the second week in December that I gave thisletter to Brandon, and about a fortnight later there came to him amessenger from Paris, bringing another from Mary, as follows:
"_Master Charles Brandon_:
"Sir and Dear Friend, Greeting--I have but time to write that the king is so ill he cannot but die ere morning. Thou knowest that which I last wrote to thee, and in addition thereto I would say that although I have, as thou likewise knowest, my brother's permission to marry whom I wish, yet as I have his one consent it is safer that we act upon that rather than be so scrupulous as to ask for another. So it were better that thou take me to wife upon the old one, rather than risk the necessity of having to do it without any. I say no more, but come with all the speed thou knowest.
"MARY."
It is needless to say that Brandon started in haste for Paris. He leftcourt for the ostensible purpose of paying me a visit and came toIpswich, whence we sailed.
The French king was dead before Mary's message reached London, andwhen we arrived at Paris, Francis I reigned on the throne of hisfather-in-law. I had guessed only too accurately. As soon as therestraint of the old king's presence, light as it had been, wasremoved, the young king opened his attack upon Mary in dreadfulearnest. He begged and pleaded and swore his love, which was surelymanifest enough, and within three days after the old king's deathoffered to divorce Claude and make Mary his queen. When she refusedthis flattering offer his surprise was genuine.
"Do you know what you refuse?" he asked in a temper. "I offer to makeyou my wife--queen of fifteen millions of the greatest subjects onearth--and are you such a fool as to refuse a gift like that, and aman like me for a husband?"
"That I am, your majesty, and with a good grace. I am Queen of Francewithout your help, and care not so much as one penny for the honor. Itis greater to be a princess of England. As for this love you avow, Iwould make so bold as to suggest that you have a good, true wife towhom you would do well to give it all. To me it is nothing, even wereyou a thousand times the king you are. My heart is another's, and Ihave my brother's permission to marry him."
"Another's? God's soul! Tell me who this fellow is that I may spit himon my sword."
"No! no! you would not; even were you as valiant and grand as youthink yourself, you would be but a child in his hands."
Francis was furious, and had Mary's apartments guarded to prevent herescape, swearing he would have his way.
As soon as Brandon and I arrived in Paris we took private lodgings,and well it was that we did. I at once went out to reconnoiter, andfound the widowed queen a prisoner in the old palace des Tournelles.With the help of Queen Claude I secretly obtained an interview, andlearned the true state of affairs.
Had Brandon been recognized and his mission known in Paris, he wouldcertainly have been assassinated by order of Francis.
When I saw the whole situation, with Mary nothing less than a prisonerin the palace, I was ready to give up without a struggle, but not soMary. Her brain was worth having, so fertile was it in expedients, andwhile I was ready to despair, she was only getting herself in goodfighting order.
After Mary's refusal of Francis, and after he had learned that thesacrifice of Claude would not help him, he grew desperate, anddetermined to keep the English girl in his court at any price and byany means. So he hit upon the scheme of marrying her to hisweak-minded cousin, the Count of Savoy. To that end he sent a hurriedembassy to Henry VIII, offering, in case of the Savoy marriage, to payback Mary's dower of four hundred thousand crowns. He offered to helpHenry in the matter of the imperial crown in case of Maximilian'sdeath--a help much greater than any King Louis could have given. Healso offered to confirm Henry in all his French possessions, and torelinquish all claims of his own thereto--all as the price of oneeighteen-year-old girl. Do you wonder she had an exalted estimate ofher own value?
As to Henry, it, of course, need not be said, that half the priceoffered would have bought him to break an oath made upon the truecross itself. The promise he had made to Mary, broken in intent beforeit was given, stood not for an instant in the way of the French king'swishes; and Henry, with a promptitude begotten of greed, was as hastyin sending an embassy to accept the offer as Francis had been tomake it. It mattered not to him what new torture he put upon hissister; the price, I believe, was sufficient to have induced him tocut off her head with his own hands.
If Francis and Henry were quick in their movements, Mary was quicker.Her plan was made in the twinkling of an eye. Immediately upon seeingme at the palace she sent for Queen Claude, with whom she had becomefast friends, and told her all she knew. She did not know of thescheme for the Savoy marriage, though Queen Claude did, and fullyexplained it to Mary. Naturally enough, Claude would be glad to getMary as far away from
France and her husband as possible, and was onlytoo willing to lend a helping hand to our purpose, or Mary's, rather,for she was the leader.
We quickly agreed among ourselves that Mary and Queen Claude shouldwithin an hour go out in Claude's new coach for the ostensible purposeof hearing mass. Brandon and I were to go to the same little chapel inwhich Jane and I had been married, where Mary said the little priestcould administer the sacrament of marriage and perform the ceremony aswell as if he were thrice as large.
I hurriedly found Brandon and repaired to the little chapel, where wewaited for a very long time, we thought. At last the two queensentered as if to make their devotions. As soon as Brandon and Marycaught sight of each other, Queen Claude and I began to examine theshrines and decipher the Latin inscriptions. If these two had notmarried soon they would have been the death of me. I was compelled atlength to remind them that time was very precious just at thatjuncture, whereupon Mary, who was half laughing, half crying, liftedher hands to her hair and let it fall in all its lustrous wealth downover her shoulders. When Brandon saw this, he fell upon his knee andkissed the hem of her gown, and she, stooping over him, raised him tohis feet and placed her hand in his.
Thus Mary was married to the man to save whose life she had fourmonths before married the French king.
She and Queen Claude had forgotten nothing, and all arrangements werecompleted for the flight. A messenger had been dispatched two hoursbefore with an order from Queen Claude that a ship should be waitingat Dieppe, ready to sail immediately upon our arrival.
After the ceremony Claude quickly bound up Mary's hair, and the queensdeparted from the chapel in their coach. We soon followed, meetingthem again at St. Denis gate, where we found the best of horses andfour sturdy men awaiting us. The messenger to Dieppe who had precededus would arrange for relays, and as Mary, according to her wont whenshe had another to rely upon, had taken the opportunity to becomethoroughly frightened, no time was lost. We made these forty leaguesin less than twenty-four hours from the time of starting; havingpaused only for a short rest at a little town near Rouen, which citywe carefully passed around.
We had little fear of being overtaken at the rate we were riding, butMary said she supposed the wind would die down for a month immediatelyupon our arrival at Dieppe. Fortunately no one pursued us, thanks toQueen Claude, who had spread the report that Mary was ill, andfortunately, also, much to Mary's surprise and delight, when wearrived at Dieppe, as fair a wind as a sailor's heart could wish wasblowing right up the channel. It was a part of the system ofrelays--horses, ship, and wind.
"When the very wind blows for our special use, we may surely dismissfear," said Mary, laughing and clapping her hands, but nearly readyfor tears, notwithstanding.
The ship was a fine new one, well fitted to breast any sea, andlearning this, we at once agreed that upon landing in England, Maryand I should go to London and win over the king if possible. We feltsome confidence in being able to do this, as we counted upon Wolsey'shelp, but in case of failure we still had our plans. Brandon was totake the ship to a certain island off the Suffolk coast and thereawait us the period of a year if need be, as Mary might, in case ofHenry's obstinacy, be detained; then re-victual and re-man the shipand out through the North Sea for their former haven, New Spain.
In case of Henry's consent, how they were to live in a style fit for aprincess, Brandon did not know, unless Henry should open his heart andprovide for them--a doubtful contingency upon which they did not basemuch hope. At a pinch, they might go down into Suffolk and live nextto Jane and me on Brandon's estates. To this Mary readily agreed, andsaid it was what she wanted above all else.
There was one thing now in favor of the king's acquiescence: duringthe last three months Brandon had become very necessary to hisamusement, and amusement was his greatest need and aim in life.
Mary and I went to London to see the king, having landed atSouthampton for the purpose of throwing off the scent any one whomight seek the ship. The king was delighted to see his sister, andkissed her over and over again.
Mary had as hard a game to play as ever fell to the lot of woman, butshe was equal to the emergency if any woman ever was. She did not giveHenry the slightest hint that she knew anything of the Count of Savoyepisode, but calmly assumed that of course her brother had meantliterally what he said when he made the promise as to the secondmarriage.
The king soon asked: "But what are you doing here? They have hardlyburied Louis as yet, have they?"
"I am sure I do not know," answered Mary, "and I certainly care less.I married him only during his life, and not for one moment afterwards,so I came away and left them to bury him or keep him, as they choose;I care not which."
"But--" began Henry, when Mary interrupted him, saying: "I will tellyou--"
I had taken good care that Wolsey should be present at this interview;so we four, the king, Wolsey, Mary and myself, quietly stepped into alittle alcove away from the others, and prepared to listen to Mary'stale, which was told with all her dramatic eloquence and femininepersuasiveness. She told of the ignoble insults of Francis, of hisvile proposals--insisted upon, almost to the point of force--carefullyconcealing, however, the offer to divorce Claude and make her queen,which proposition might have had its attractions for Henry. She toldof her imprisonment in the palace des Tournelles, and of her deadlyperil and many indignities, and the tale lost nothing in the telling.Then she finished by throwing her arms around Henry's neck in apassionate flood of tears and begging him to protect her--to save her!save her! save her! his little sister.
It was all such perfect acting that for the time I forgot it wasacting, and a great lump swelled up in my throat. It was, however,only for the instant, and when Mary, whose face was hidden from allthe others, on Henry's breast, smiled slyly at me from the midst ofher tears and sobs, I burst into a laugh that was like to have spoiledeverything. Henry turned quickly upon me, and I tried to cover it bypretending that I was sobbing. Wolsey helped me out by putting acorner of his gown to his eyes, when Henry, seeing us all so affected,began to catch the fever and swell with indignation. He put Mary awayfrom him, and striding up and down the room exclaimed, in a voice thatall could hear, "The dog! the dog! to treat my sister so. My sister!My father's daughter! My sister! The first princess of England andqueen of France for his mistress! By every god that ever breathed,I'll chastise this scurvy cur until he howls again. I swear it by mycrown, if it cost me my kingdom," and so on until words failed him.But see how he kept his oath, and see how he and Francis hobnobbed notlong afterward at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.
Henry came back to Mary and began to question her, when she repeatedthe story for him. Then it was she told of my timely arrival, and how,in order to escape and protect herself from Francis, she had beencompelled to marry Brandon and flee with us.
She said: "I so wanted to come home to England and be married where mydear brother could give me away, but I was in such mortal dread ofFrancis, and there was no other means of escape, so--"
"God's death! If I had but one other sister like you, I swear beforeheaven I'd have myself hanged. Married to Brandon? Fool! idiot! whatdo you mean? Married to Brandon! Jesu! You'll drive me mad! Just oneother like you in England, and the whole damned kingdom might sink;I'd have none of it. Married to Brandon without my consent!"
"No! no! brother," answered Mary softly, leaning affectionatelyagainst his bulky form; "do you suppose I would do that? Now don't beunkind to me when I have been away from you so long! You gave yourconsent four months ago. Do you not remember? You know I would neverhave done it otherwise."
"Yes, I know! You would not do anything--you did not want; and itseems equally certain that in the end you always manage to doeverything you do want. Hell and furies!"
"Why! brother, I will leave it to my Lord Bishop of York if you didnot promise me that day, in this very room, and almost on this veryspot, that if I would marry Louis of France I might marry whomsoever Iwished when he should die. Of course you knew, afte
r what I had said,whom I should choose, so I went to a little church in company withQueen Claude, and took my hair down and married him, and I am hiswife, and no power on earth can make it otherwise," and she looked upinto his face with a defiant little pout, as much as to say, "Now,what are you going to do about it?"
Henry looked at her in surprise and then burst out laughing. "Marriedto Brandon with your hair down?" And he roared again, holding hissides. "Well, you do beat the devil; there's no denying that. Poor oldLouis! That was a good joke on him. I'll stake my crown he was glad todie! You kept it warm enough for him, I make no doubt."
"Well," said Mary, with a little shrug of her shoulders, "he wouldmarry me."
"Yes, and now poor Brandon doesn't know the trouble ahead of him,either. He has my pity, by Jove!"
"Oh, that is different," returned Mary, and her eyes burned softly,and her whole person fairly radiated, so expressive was she of thefact that "it was different."
Different? Yes, as light from darkness; as love from loathing; asheaven from the other place; as Brandon from Louis; and that tells itall.
Henry turned to Wolsey: "Have you ever heard anything equal to it, myLord Bishop?"
My Lord Bishop, of course, never had; nothing that even approached it.
"What are we to do about it?" continued Henry, still addressingWolsey.
The bishop assumed a thoughtful expression, as if to appear deliberatein so great a matter, and said: "I see but one thing that can bedone," and then he threw in a few soft, oily words upon thetroubled waters that made Mary wish she had never called him "thoubutcher's cur," and Henry, after a pause, asked: "Where is Brandon? Heis a good fellow, after all, and what we can't help we must endure.He'll find punishment enough in you. Tell him to come home--I supposeyou have him hid around some place--and we'll try to do something forhim."
"What will you do for him, brother?" said Mary, not wanting to givethe king's friendly impulse time to weaken.
"Oh! don't bother about that now," but she held him fast by the handand would not let go.
"Well, what do you want? Out with it. I suppose I might as well giveit up easily, you will have it sooner or later. Out with it and bedone."
"Could you make him Duke of Suffolk?"
"Eh? I suppose so. What say you, my Lord of York?"
York was willing--thought it would be just the thing.
"So be it then," said Henry. "Now I am going out to hunt and will notlisten to another word. You will coax me out of my kingdom for thatfellow yet." He was about to leave the room when he turned to Mary,saying: "By the way, sister, can you have Brandon here by Sunday next?I am to have a joust."
Mary thought she could, ... and the great event was accomplished.
One false word, one false syllable, one false tone would have spoiledit all, had not Mary--but I fear you are weary with hearing so much ofMary.
So after all, Mary, though a queen, came portionless to Brandon. Hegot the title, but never received the estates of Suffolk; all hereceived with her was the money I carried to him from France.Nevertheless, Brandon thought himself the richest man in all theearth, and surely he was one of the happiest. Such a woman as Mary isdangerous, except in a state of complete subjection--but she was boundhand and foot in the silken meshes of her own weaving, and her powerfor bliss-making was almost infinite.
And now it was, as all who read may know, that this fair, sweet,wilful Mary dropped out of history; a sure token that her heart washer husband's throne; her soul his empire; her every wish his subject,and her will, so masterful with others, the meek and lowly servant ofher strong but gentle lord and master, Charles Brandon, Duke ofSuffolk.
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