There was a hush as he appeared. I was sure none of these people had ever seen anyone like him. Very tall, athletic, yet perfectly graceful, he must have seemed like a god. He was indeed the supreme specimen of manhood—and most royal personages of the past had been small, sickly and even deformed in some way. The French habit of tightly swaddling their babies probably accounted for a certain stunted growth which I had noticed was rather prevalent. Following Louis with his swollen neck and protruding eyes, François was a glorious contrast. Louise must have made sure that her Caesar was not tightly swaddled in his babyhood; his limbs must have been free to expand as nature intended them to. In any case he was a magnificent figure. He had a natural elegance, as had quite a number of the noblemen who attended him. This was something I missed later in England where there was a decided lack of that quality and where people adorned themselves with dazzling jewels instead of using them with discretion as François and the members of his Court did. I learned to follow the French modes and that I think was one of the things which set me apart later on.
The cheers for the King, the music from the trumpets, sambucas and hautbois were quite deafening and not always harmonious but one could not fail to be caught up in the excitement.
The officers of the Crown in their cloth of gold and damask, the nobility in crimson and gold, the ladies in their litters, all passed below us. I saw Louise seated with little Renée, the late King's daughter; and in another litter was Marguerite d'Alençon with old Madame de Bourbon, who was the daughter of Louis XI.
All this was to be the beginning of six weeks of festivities. François wanted the people to know that under him there would be no cheeseparing. His reign must be heralded by this indication of the good times he was going to give them.
There was no doubt of their appreciation.
During the procession Mary sat beside me, tense, waiting.
And at last the moment came, for part of this brilliant cavalcade was the English embassy which had come to visit the King to offer condolences and congratulations and no doubt lay the foundation for further friendship between the two countries.
The Duke of Suffolk rode at the head. He was undoubtedly handsome—tall as the King of France and as fair as François was dark. He did bear a resemblance to Henry VIII, and I could quite understand why Mary had become obsessed with him.
He glanced up at the window as he passed and I saw the looks they gave each other. Mary was radiant. She was breathing deeply and her clasped hands lay in her lap.
I hoped she would be happy. Perhaps she would take me back to England with her into her household. That would not be unusual. Young girls did go into households of noblewomen; and I believed that she did have a fondness for me.
Events moved quickly after that. That very day there was a meeting between Mary and Suffolk. Afterward she was in a state of great excitement—of wild optimism and despair.
They had had such a short time together, she told me; but that was going to change. “That arrangement with Elizabeth Grey is nothing… nothing. And I am free now. I tell you this: nothing is going to stop us.” Then she was sunk in melancholy. “There are so many against us. They know of our feelings for each other.”
I thought: Seeing you, Madame, who could fail to be aware of it?
But I said nothing.
“They hate him. They are jealous of him. Who would not be? That is understandable. They will try to turn my brother against him. I do believe that Henry might agree to this match…if it were not for those people around him. They think he would become too important… married to the King's sister. It is intrigue… intrigue. He loves me…as I love him. He said it might cost him his head if he married me. Wolsey is not against the match… and Wolsey and my brother together…who would dare say nay if they said yes?”
She paced about the room. I wished she would be calmer for I was sure that would be wiser.
“François has spoken to him. Do you know what he said to him? These are his exact words: ‘My Lord Suffolk,’ he said, ‘there is a bruit in this realm that you have come hither to marry the Queen, your master's sister.’ Poor Charles. He was so taken aback, for he did not understand how François could have known about us. But, of course, it was I who told him. François said he would help us if he could for he had a great affection for me and he knew the strength of my feelings. That was good of him. But I don't trust him. I wish I could speak to my brother. I will write to him. That is it. I will remind him that I married once to please him, and for this I was promised that next time I should please myself. I shall warn him of my enemies who surround him and will try to do me ill.”
I brought the writing materials and she wrote.
I shared her tension, for my anxiety regarding my own future was growing. She said nothing about what would become of me; I could understand that there was no room in her mind for anything but her own affairs.
All during those days when the jousting, balls and banquets and rejoicing in the new reign continued, Mary alternated between joy and despair. She did not attend the festivities, of course, for although the six weeks were up, she was still supposed to be mourning the late King.
She had one or two meetings with Suffolk which carried her to the pinnacle of delight; then she would be plunged into melancholy.
“Charles is afraid,” she told me. “He says our love will destroy us. My brother knows of the love between us. He made Charles swear before he left England that he would not persuade me to plight my troth to him, nor take the opportunity which being here he might find.”
“And did he promise, Madame?”
“My brother would insist. Oh, he is bluff and hearty but he can be ruthless if any go against him. I know his temper. I should, because it is very like my own. But as I know him, so should he know me and when I set my heart on something, I shall have it…as he would. There is a strong feeling between us because we are so much alike. We know each other well.”
“But if my Lord Suffolk has promised…”
“I have been promised. My brother has promised me that, if I married for state reasons, the next time I should have freedom of choice.”
I could understand her feelings. She was ready to brave her brother's wrath; she was his beloved sister, but Suffolk, whatever the friendship between himself and the King, was only a subject.
Then something happened which upset her a great deal, not because of what actually took place but because it was an indication of the power of those who were working against her marriage.
Her confessor came to her and told her that a certain Friar Langley had arrived from England and it was imperative that he have speech with her immediately.
I was with her when he was brought in.
I curtsied and was about to leave when she said to me: “No. You may stay.”
The friar looked at me with displeasure but he seemed to come to the conclusion that my presence was of no importance. I had always been allowed to witness a great deal because of my youth.
Mary said haughtily: “What is it you have to say to me?”
“I have come to warn Your Grace.”
“To warn me? Of what?”
“Of one who has come hither in an embassy.”
“I do not understand you, Friar.”
“I have come to tell you the truth about the Duke of Suffolk.”
The color flamed into Mary's face. “What of the Duke of Suffolk?” she asked haughtily.
“I believe Your Grace has been deceived by this man and has shown him much favor. It has been impressed on me that I should come here to warn you that he traffics with the Devil.”
She was seething with rage and controlling it with more success than she usually displayed.
“And who, may I ask, has done this impressing?”