He was evasive, evidently wary of betraying those who had sent him.
“All know that Sir William Compton—a rival with the Duke for the King's favor—suffers from a virulent ulcer of the leg,” he said.
“I fail to see what connection this has with the Duke of Suffolk.”
“The King has made an ointment which is a cure for ulcers. It fails to work on Sir William.”
“Is that so?” Her voice was dangerously calm. I thought: In a moment she will fly at him. Clearly he did not know her temper.
The friar lowered his voice. “The Duke of Suffolk is a friend of Wolsey and it is well known that he is one of the Devil's disciples. How could a butcher's son rise to such greatness?”
“By shrewdness, wit and very special qualities which others have not.”
“No, Madame. Through the Devil.”
“Sir Friar, you should be careful how you speak of my friends.”
“It is because I fear for your safety that I have come here to warn you.”
She went close to him. “Go back to your friends,” she said in a low voice, “and tell them I know their motives well. Tell them this: I shall make sure that when I return to England the King is informed of your perfidy toward those he loves… and if you have any sense in your addled pate, you will get out of my sight at once. I never wish to look on your sly and silly face again. And if you pass on any of these lies which you have uttered to me, I'll have you in the Tower and there they will discover who it was who led you to this act of folly.”
“Madame…”
“Go,” she cried.
He went.
She looked at me and said: “You see, I have my enemies. They will do everything they can to prevent my marriage. They would destroy my happiness…if they could. But they are not going to.”
Nor did they. Fortunately for Mary, François had decided to help. Looking back, I think he was rather pleased to do this—not because of his affection for her. François's feelings toward her were entirely lustful. He might have been piqued because she preferred someone else, but I think he rather admired her tenacity. He was romantic at heart; at least, at times, it pleased him to see himself as such. One could never be sure of François; but I certainly think he took a pleasure in flouting the King of England.
There was a rivalry between them which was intensified because they were of a kind—both young, handsome, both following serious predecessors who had lived without pomp. It must have amused François, who would surmise that Henry would be obliged outwardly to disapprove of the marriage of his sister to a man who had come from a comparatively humble background because it would annoy the great families of England whose favors he could not afford to lose.
So, with François's help, Mary was married with great secrecy in the chapel at the Hôtel de Clugny.
I saw her briefly after the ceremony. Worried as I was about what would now become of me, I could not help but rejoice in her happiness. She was radiant with joy—there in her simple gown, so different from the gloriously appareled young woman who had been married such a short time before in the Hôtel de la Gruthuse.
Only ten people were present in the little chapel, but one of them was the King of France himself.
It was a daring act, but characteristic of Mary. I believed that without her determination it would not have taken place, for Suffolk knew the hostility it would arouse.
The King of England was most displeased and for a time they were afraid to return to England.
But I learned something of the King's nature much later, when I went to England. He was very sentimental and he truly loved his sister. He liked Suffolk, too, and it was not long before a compromise was arranged. For such a flagrant act of disobedience they could not go unpunished, so the King would take possession of Mary's plate and jewels; for he had incurred great expense in sending her to France in the appropriate manner and he wished to be reimbursed for that. They were to pay him yearly installments of £24,000 and naturally they would not be able to come to Court for a while.
It seemed harsh punishment, but Mary did not seem to mind. She was so deliriously happy that I supposed Suffolk was all she had believed him to be.
“We shall be poor,” she said, “living in the country. How I shall love that! I am heartily sick of courts. I shall have my Charles and we shall be a country gentleman and his lady. It is what I have wanted more than anything in the world and now it is mine.”
Queen Claude sent for me.
She was very gentle and kind—not like a queen at all. She was surrounded by ladies just like herself. They spent most of their days doing good works, like sewing for the poor and visiting convents; they prayed a good deal. She was such a contrast to her flamboyant husband that it was amazing that theirs should be—after a fashion—a successful marriage, perhaps due to that realistic view of life which is characteristic of the French.
“Come here, Anne,” she said. “I have some news for you.”
I waited in trepidation, certain that she was going to tell me to prepare to leave for home.
She smiled her very gentle smile and said: “I have had word from your father. He trusts that you have given satisfaction during your stay at our Court. I think Queen Mary would agree that you have, for she has kept you close to her.”
I was silent but my heart was beginning to beat very fast.
“Your father thinks that a stay at our Court is good for you…for your education and all you have to learn besides. He therefore asks me if I can find a place for you here so that you may remain when the Queen-Duchess returns to England, which she will shortly be doing. And I have decided that I will take you into my household.”
I was so delighted that I must have shown it, for she seemed pleased and patted my head.
“One of the ladies will tell you where you will sleep and explain your duties to you. They may be a little different from those you did with the Queen-Duchess.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
She smiled and nodded, and I left her in a daze.
I was reprieved.
So, with the coming of April, I joined Queen Claude's household; and Mary and her husband went back to England.
Life changed a great deal for me. Attendance on Queen Claude was indeed very different from waiting on my previous, volatile mistress. Claude always seemed surrounded by quietness; she was so kind and fundamentally good that while one admired her one felt a certain resentment of such virtues, perhaps because it seemed a reproach to one's own less than perfect nature. I learned how to do the finest embroidery; my French improved; and although I was one of the Queen's attendants, I did know what went on beyond our circle.
The Court was, as ever, dominated by François. In every field he distinguished himself. He was always champion of the jousts; he was the most skillful swordsman in the country; in wrestling none could overthrow him. Perhaps royalty came to his aid on one or two occasions but it was never obvious; I do not think he would have resented a rival in those arts but welcomed him. King Henry seemed a boy set side by side with the King of France. François had been born with wisdom, it seemed; but perhaps he had learned that at the side of his sister, who must surely be the cleverest person at Court, male or female. Not only was François the leading sportsman, he was the arbiter of elegance. He set the fashion which always tended to show off his own perfections. He was quite dazzling. It seemed that he had all the outward gifts of sovereignty. The French could not fail to be pleased with their monarch.
His love affairs were numerous. Love was the great theme of the Court at that time. Poets wrote of it; musicians sang of it; courtiers talked of it. François was always gallant and charming; and he gathered about him men of similar tastes. It was said that if a man did not have a mistress he regarded him with suspicion. He liked to talk of women with other men and to hear how their love affairs were progressing; he would press for intimate details, and yet he could get angry if he considered any did not pay due respect to women.