When Vives heard this he was shocked. “Idle books!” he declared. “There shall be an end to this. If there are stories for recreation, they must be from the Bible, though the classical and historical might be permitted occasionally.”
Everything I did must be with the object of improving my mind. Fiction was out of the question. No more romances, such as Lancelot du Lac and Pyramus and Thisbe. I might read the story of the patient Griselda, for this would strengthen my character.
Card-playing was definitely forbidden. I must not preoccupy myself with finery of any sort. Instead of gloating over silks and fine brocades, I should commit to memory certain Greek and Latin passages which would be set for me; and I was recommended to repeat them at night until I was word perfect. Only then could I go to bed with the knowledge that I had earned my rest.
I was spending a great deal of time at my desk. I had always been a studious child and fond of learning, but I did want a chance to be out of doors, to train my goshawk, perhaps to play games with other children. I grew rather pale. I was already a little thin.
The Countess was worried. She had long conversations with my mother. “The Princess is but a child,” she said. “There is too much work and too little play.”
“She has to be trained for a great role,” explained my mother. “Johannes Ludovicus Vives is one of the greatest living scholars. We must keep to his rules or he will turn his back on us and go back to Spain.”
“Better that than the Princess's health should suffer.”
My mother began to worry about my health but she felt that Vives must not be offended.
The Countess was adamant. There were occasions when she remembered that she was a Plantagenet, and this was one of them. She declared that she would not be responsible for my health if the rules were not relaxed a little.
“It is true that the Princess must study,” she said, “but she is already beyond the standard expected of a princess of her age. There should be leisure in everyone's life, particularly for the young.”
She so thoroughly alarmed my mother that I did study less. Sometimes I think they were right to drive me, for although my health has at times been frail, I was always able to enjoy the company of some of the wisest men in the kingdom, which must have been due to my excellent education.
When the question of my being overstrained was brought to the notice of Vives, he pointed out that the daughters of Sir Thomas More were examples of educated women, and they could be regarded as a lesson to all. Sir Thomas's daughter Margaret was the most highly educated woman of the time and she was in good health. When I learned something of the More household, I realized that in such a happy family, which was full of fun and laughter, learning had been something to be enjoyed; and Sir Thomas would never force his children to do what they did not wish to. It was not that I did not want to learn. I did. It was just that I was often so tired and in danger of falling asleep at my desk.
All the time I thought of the Emperor Charles. I built up a picture of a hero in my mind. My mother, the Countess and all the women of the household constantly told me how much I loved my future husband. He was always in my thoughts. When I read my books, when I translated my Latin passages, I thought of him and how proud he would be of me.
* * *
THIS STATE OF AFFAIRS continued for two years, until I was nine years old. It was the year 1526—an eventful one for me because, I suppose, during it I grew up. I ceased to be an innocent child, for many things were revealed to me.
I had been vaguely aware that a great deal had been happening in Europe during that time. I had known that my father and my beloved Emperor were friends and allies and that we were at war with that wicked man of Europe whose evil schemes the heroes were determined to suppress. That was François Premier.
One day I saw my mother in a state of great excitement. It was good news, she told me. The war would soon be over. François, attempting to take Pavia, had been captured and was now the Emperor's prisoner in Madrid.
It was wonderful. It was good triumphing over evil, which I believed to be always the case in the end.
“Your father and the Emperor will now jointly invade France, and between them they will share that land.”
I listened, starry-eyed.
The Cardinal came to see me. I was not sure that I liked him. He was always rather unctuous but at the same time giving an impression that it would be unwise to cross him.
He kissed my hand with reverence and asked after my health. Then he told me he had brought something to show me. He opened a case and in it was a magnificent emerald ring.
“It is very beautiful,” I said.
“His Grace, your father, and I believe it is time you showed the Emperor your true feelings for him. I know you regard him with great tenderness.”
“Yes, my lord Cardinal.”
He smiled at me. “That is well. Did you know that the emerald is often a gift bestowed by lovers? It is said that the brilliant green will fade if the lover who receives it is unfaithful. Would you not like to send this to the Emperor as a token of your love for him?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Yes, I should like to do that.”
He smiled benignly. “I have written a letter telling him that your love for His great Eminence has raised such a passion in you that it is confirmed by jealousy, which is the first sign and token of love.”
“Perhaps one should not say that, there being no cause for jealousy.”
“Ah, but you would be jealous if there was a cause.”
“Oh … mayhap,” I agreed.
“Then it shall be sent. I am sure the emerald will retain its brilliant green for many a year.”
So the emerald was sent and the Cardinal visited me again to tell me that when the Emperor received the ring he had said he would wear it for the sake of the Princess. Those were his very words.
The Cardinal seemed very satisfied, smiling inwardly, it seemed to me, by which I mean not at me but at his secret thoughts.
I wondered why, after so many years, I should have been given this emerald to send to my betrothed. Why so suddenly? But then he had said he would wear it for my sake, and that warmed my heart.
I was to learn later. It was all part of the rude awakening.
Everything began to go wrong in that year. Perhaps it was because I was getting to an age of understanding. I had not seen the evil which existed all around me. Perhaps I should have noticed my mother's tragic looks, the furtive glances which members of my household gave each other; perhaps I should have noticed the whispering in the corners. I was so immersed in my studies that I had no time to observe what was going on.
My father was preparing to join the Emperor in the campaign against France. François was the Emperor's prisoner and my father wanted to help Charles complete the conquest.
An army was being raised and taxes were being levied throughout the country. Those with high incomes had to pay as much as three shillings and fourpence for every pound they earned. I heard some of the lower servants talking of it.
It was causing a great deal of trouble. I must have been aware at that stage of the growing tension, for I was constantly listening to conversations not meant for me—not of those who were close to me, for they were very careful to keep me in the dark, but sometimes the scullions and serving maids would pass below my window and I would stand there trying to catch what was said.
One day I heard three or four of them talking together. There was excitement in their voices. “It could spread …” one maid was saying. “I know it started in the eastern counties on account of the cloth workers…”
“Who can blame them? What do they care for wars in France if they have no bread to give their children?”
“Left without work, they were…on account of their masters not having the money to pay them.”
“On account of paying the tax for the King's war.”
“All very well… but I tell you what. It's spread to London. That's going to mean something.�
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“What do you think? Revolt?” “
'Twouldn't be the first time.”
I was trembling with indignation. They were speaking treason. They were criticizing my father. They were talking of uprisings against him.
There were times when the Countess was on the point of telling me something. She would start to speak and then stop and frown, perhaps shrug her shoulders and then begin to talk of something else.
My mother, too, was preoccupied. I felt they were both holding something back from me and, when I heard talk such as that of the servants, I began to grow alarmed.
Pliny and Socrates lost their interest. It was the present day … my father, the Emperor and the King of France… the Cardinal and the cloth workers who began to take possession of my mind. I was nine years old—a precocious nine. I wanted to know what was going on.
It was not often that I saw my mother, and those occasions when I did were very precious. I did not want to spoil them by making her more unhappy than she already was. I could not ask her the questions I longed to, for my reason told me that they would be upsetting to her; so I sought subjects which I thought would please her.
It was different with the Countess. As I was sure she had often been on the verge of telling me something, perhaps a little prompting would urge her to tell me what I felt I ought to know.
“Countess,” I said, when we were alone together, “what is happening? Is it true that there are riots in the country?”
“Where did you learn such things?”
“I hear scraps of conversation.”
She frowned. Then she shrugged her shoulders and said, “There has been a certain amount of trouble in some parts of the country.”
“The cloth workers of the eastern counties,” I said, “and now in London.”
She was astonished.
She said, “I forget how you grow up. You are too old for your years. I suppose you should know these things.” She hesitated and then seemed to come to a decision. “Yes,” she went on. “There has been trouble. It is the new tax. It was crippling to the manufacturers who could not pay their workers. It was for the war against France. The King and the Cardinal saw that it would be unwise to have trouble at home. So the tax was withheld and the people paid just what they liked.”
“Was that enough?”
“Well…yes…as it turned out, because there was not to be a war in France after all.”
“But was not my father fighting with the Emperor against France?”
“My dear Princess, at one time that was so, but relations between countries…politics… they change so quickly. An enemy of one day is a friend the next.”
“How can that be?”
She was silent for a while, then she said, “A ruler has to consider what is best for his country.”
“But the Emperor is a good ruler and so is the King, my father, but the King of France…he is wicked.”
“Dearest Princess, it may be that one day you will be a ruler.”
I caught my breath.
“Well,” she went on, “you are the King's only child.”
“But not a son.”
“You are the next in line. I have always thought you should learn more of affairs of state. Latin and Greek are all very well… but they are not going to help you rule a country.” She seemed to come to a decision. “I think you should know that at the moment relations between your father and the Emperor are…a little strained.”
“You mean they are not good friends?”
“Heads of state are not really good friends in the sense we think of in our ordinary relationships. If what is good for one's country is good for another, then those rulers are friends. If not… they are enemies.”
“But the King of France has no right to his crown. France belongs to us.”
“The King of France could say we have never had a right to it. It is just a matter of the way one looks at these things.”
“But right must be right and wrong wrong.”
“My dear Princess, you are very clever, but you are young and no matter how clever the young are, they lack experience. You will remember that not long ago we were friends with the French. You remember the meeting at Guisnes and Ardres?”
“The Field of the Cloth of Gold!”
“Ah, I see you do.”
“But they deceived us. All the time they were pretending.”
“Perhaps everyone was pretending. However, that could be treasonable talk, so let us avoid it and not concern ourselves with who was dissimulating. It is past and it is the future we have to think of. The King of France is the prisoner of the Emperor Charles, and the Emperor is in a strong position. He no longer needs the help of England as he once did. I have to tell you something which may be a shock to you. Of course, you have met the Emperor only once.”
“It was enough to tell me that I loved him.”
“Dear Princess, you know nothing of love … not the sort of love between a man and his wife. Your mother loves you dearly; so does your father; so do I and Margaret Bryan. Many people love you. We want everything that is good for you. It is different with the Emperor.”
“What do you mean? He is going to be my husband.”
The Countess shook her head. “You see, my dearest Princess, these marriages are arranged in accordance with what is best for the country. The Emperor and your father wanted to make an alliance against France; he was unmarried, and the King has a daughter—you. But you must realize that the disparity in your ages did make your marriage rather a remote possibility.”
“Do you mean that the Emperor doesn't want to marry me anymore?”
She was silent and I felt blank with dismay.
Then she went on, “It has not gone as far as that. Oh, I shall tell you, for I think you should know. I, who am here in your household, know you better than anyone perhaps. You are older than your years and I do not believe you should be deluded any longer.”
“Please tell me, Countess.”
“It may be something of a shock. You see, you did not really know the Emperor. People have told you that he is a hero … the greatest match in Christendom. They have represented him as benevolent and powerful. Powerful he undoubtedly is, but he is first of all a ruler. Through his father and his mother he inherited great territories. A ruler has first of all to think what is best for his country.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Countess? That I am not good for his country?”
“He no longer needs your father. He has the King of France in his hands. No ruler wants to impoverish his country in useless wars. The Emperor, it seems, is not one who wants glory for showy conquests; he wants to bring prosperity and power to his dominions. He no longer needs your father's help.”
“So you mean that it was solely because he wanted that, that he became betrothed to me?”
“That is how royal marriages are made. In fact, the marriages of most of us come about because of the advantages they can bring to our families, and with the sons and daughters of kings it is for the good of the country.”
“You mean that he really did not love me. But I…”
“No, Princess, you did not love him. You did not know him. You were told you loved him. You thought it was love, as in those romances which Vives forbade you to read. Perhaps he was right, for they gave you idealistic ideas which are not always true to life.”
“What has happened? Please tell me, Countess.”
“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 i
s 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.”
In the Shadow of the Crown Page 4
