“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 lasted 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.
In my apartments, which I shared with the Countess, I was to continue with my studies. I must perfect my French because naturally I should have to converse in that language with the envoys. I must practice my dancing because I should be required to show them how proficient I was in that art. I had to remember that the French set great store on social grace and I must not be found lacking.
I was in a strange mood. I might have been nervous; I certainly was a little resentful that I should be paraded to make sure I was worthy to be the wife of a boy younger than myself; but all these emotions were overshadowed by the fear for my mother's health.
I mentioned to the Countess that she looked ill.
“She has much on her mind, I doubt not,” said the Countess evasively.
There was a strange atmosphere at Court. I noticed whispering, silences, watchful eyes.
I wished I knew what was going on, but no one would tell me.
At length the envoys arrived.
For weeks the banqueting hall at Greenwich had been in the process of refurbishing. Many workmen had been toiling at great speed that the work might be finished in time; there were to be such balls and banquets as never seen before. My father was noted for his extravagant displays, and this was to outshine all that had gone before. In spite of my fears for my mother and my apprehension on my own account, I could not help feeling a certain gratification that this was all done for me.
The banqueting hall astonished all who beheld it. Much had been made of the theater which adjoined the great hall. The French regarded themselves as the great arbiters in the field of the Arts, so my father wished to astonish them with his taste for and appreciation of beauty. He had had silk carpets decorated with fleur-de-lys in gold laid on the floors; and on the ceiling were depicted the moon and stars. Perhaps less tact was shown in the banqueting hall, where there was a picture painted by Hans Holbein at the time of the battle of Thérouanne to celebrate my father's victory over the French, which I thought might dampen their joy in the fleur-de-lys.