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.”
“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.”