It was a good beginning. I learned afterward, when I knew Henry very well indeed, that he had been greatly impressed by François's appearance, and it had depressed him a little because he always wished to shine more brightly than anyone near him, and he was afraid that François might be considered the more attractive. Then he remembered that François's legs were short. He looked at them and rejoiced. Of course François looked well on a horse. His own legs, he believed, were beautifully proportioned and François, being so slender, did not have that rounded calf which the King of England was so proud to possess. He often said much later when referring to François: “He had short legs and big feet. He was not quite perfect.”
Now I can imagine his feelings on that celebrated occasion. The celebrations were to last sixteen days and the time would not be devoted merely to meetings between the monarchs. There would be jousts and tourneys, such entertainments as had never been seen before. Neither King had spared his attempts to impress the other with his wealth and power. It was said that those nobles who had accompanied the Kings to Guines and Ardres carried their lands and houses with them, so had they impoverished themselves in order to make the journey.
But during those magnificent celebrations there was a hint of that tension which we all felt. There was such falseness behind the expressions of good will.
It was arranged that the King of England was to go to Ardres to dine with Queen Claude, and that at the same time François was to go to Guines to be the guest of Queen Katharine.
During the time the Kings were in foreign camps they should be hostages for each other. The suggestion had come from the English, and François laughingly agreed to it.
The next morning François rose very early—which was unusual for him—and, taking only two gentlemen and a page, he rode over to the castle at Guines. The English guards were astonished to see him almost alone in their midst. I suppose the English were far more conscious of security than the French; they were after all in France, and certainly they did not trust the French. It was because he understood their feelings so well that François acted as he did that morning.
He demanded of the guards the way to the chamber of the King of England.
“His Grace is not yet awake,” the guards told him.
François laughed and walked straight into the chamber where Henry was in bed.
Henry was dumbfounded. He at once realized that he himself was in no danger, but François had taken a great risk by walking right into the midst of what could have been the enemy.
Henry was immediately aware of the trust which was being shown him.
He said: “Brother, you have done a better turn than any man ever did another. I see what trust I should have in you. I yield myself your prisoner from this moment.”
Henry was wearing a jeweled collar worth fifteen thousand angels; he took it off and begged François to wear it for his sake.
François, guessing something like this would happen and that there would be an exchange of gifts, had brought with him a bracelet which he insisted Henry accept and wear for his sake.
François had judged accurately. The bracelet he bestowed was worth thirty thousand angels. The French must outdo the English in all things. That was a little touch typical of François.
He then said that he would be the King of England's valet and it was he who warmed Henry's shirt and handed it to him.
When François returned to Ardres, his ministers were shocked that he had gone almost unaccompanied into the English stronghold, but François only laughed at them; and when he touched the collar which Henry had given him, and thought of the bracelet which he had given Henry, he was much amused.
There was another incident which did not end up in quite such an amicable way.
This was on the occasion of a wrestling match, when, as in all the tournaments, the excitement was increased by the rivalry of the French and English.
Henry had brought the champions of the sport with him from England, and as soon as the match began, it became clear that the skill of the English was superior to that of the French. I heard many a grumble that the best French wrestlers, who came from Brittany, had not been invited to take part. It was an oversight which was very regrettable to the French but delighted the English, for they won all the prizes.
I could see that François was disconsolate when the winners came to the ladies’ loge to receive the prizes from Queen Claude.
Afterward the Kings went into one of the pavilions to refresh themselves with a drink together. Henry was delighted with the success of the English, and he thought to crown the glory by wrestling with François and overthrowing him.
He turned to him and said: “Brother, I must wrestle with you.” He thereupon seized François and sought to trip him. He must have forgotten—or perhaps he did not know—that François was one of the finest wrestlers in France. In a few seconds Henry was thrown to the ground.
Embarrassed and angry, Henry rose.
“Once again,” he cried. “Once again.”
But the French King's friends reminded him that supper was just about to be served and, as none could start without them, it would be a breach of etiquette to arrive late. The wrestling match would have to be postponed.
I can imagine François looking down his long nose at Henry and laughing inwardly, and Henry's humiliation to have been thrown. Fortunately it was only those close to the Kings who had seen it, but he knew the story would be all around the Court by tomorrow—as it was, and that was how I heard of it.
But although François might have gleaned a momentary satisfaction, the incident did him little good, for after all, he was trying to win Henry to his side in the conflict with the Emperor; and Henry was a man who remembered slights.
I vividly recall the dinner at which Queen Claude entertained the King of England. It was the occasion when François was dining with Queen Katharine. As one of Claude's attendants, I was present, so I had a greater opportunity of observing King Henry than I had ever had before.
He was extremely affable and none could be more charming when he wished. I think the absence of François made him feel more at ease. He was gracious and very attentive to Claude; he had heard much of her saintliness, he said; and that was a quality he most admired in ladies. He was honored to be in the company of a lady of such goodness.
I remember the gown I wore on that occasion. It was red velvet—one of my favorite colors—with a long skirt open in front to show a brocade petticoat. It was drawn in tightly at the waist and my long wide sleeves fell gracefully, well below my hands, hiding that sixth nail which always bothered me.
The King complimented the Queen on the excellent food and wine and afterward he spoke to all of us.
He lingered a little with me—I supposed because I was English. He seemed particularly amused to hear that I was Sir Thomas Boleyn's daughter.
“A good servant, Sir Thomas,” he commented. “And you are an English girl.” He slapped his thigh. “I could have sworn you were French.”
“I have been long at the Court of France, Your Grace.”
He put his big face close to mine and said jovially: “Well then, you must have been nothing but a baby when you came.”
“I was seven years old, Your Grace.”
“Beautiful girls should be where they belong,” he said. “In their own country.”
I smiled and he passed on.
I thought he was very friendly, which was obviously because I was my father's daughter. I knew that he had progressed amazingly at Court during the last years.
The great occasion of the Field of the Cloth of Gold was over by 24 June and I left with the royal party for Abbeville, while King Henry and Queen Katharine led their cavalcade toward Calais where they were to make the crossing to England.