“The King of England would never deny the truth.” I heard the irony in his voice, I imagined how he must have laughed—probably with Marguerite—at Henry's declarations concerning the gnawing of his conscience.
“I see none of the ladies of your Court here tonight, Your Grace. That is unusual is it not?
“Oh, they dared not face the competition of the English ladies… particularly the Lady Anne.”
“Are they so lacking in confidence then?”
“They have heard so much of her charms. The jealousy of your sex! It seems they would rather remain in ignorance than be so out-classed.”
“So you did not command them to come?”
“Oh, it is not my practice to command ladies.”
I was amazed that he could indulge in such frivolous conversation. Of course, it was all part of the masque that he should pretend not to know who I was. He would, of course, understand that in the traditional manner I would choose the King of France. I wondered what he remembered of me from the past; although he had aged considerably, I should have known him in any guise.
Henry was watching us, and I could see that he was beginning to be irritated. François's manner was distinctly flirtatious and he knew that the King of France could not be in the company of any attractive woman without attempting to seduce her.
Henry decided that it was time the deception ended, so he started to remove the visors, coming to me first. His face was a little flushed. It reminded me of that long-ago occasion when the rivalry between the two Kings could not be disguised for all the cloth of gold settings and protestations of friendship. Henry, a brilliant figure in velvet cloth of gold, about his neck a collar of rubies, diamonds and pearls as large as any I have seen, as usual looked a trifle flamboyant beside the elegant, more soberly clad François about whose person diamonds discreetly sparkled as he moved.
“Your Grace has been dancing with the Marquess of Pembroke,” he announced to François.
François, in the approved manner, declared himself astonished, gratified and delighted, his sly smile indicating to me that of course he had known all the time.
Henry passed on to unmask the other ladies.
François looked at me, still smiling.
“Of course,” I said, speaking to him now as one on equal terms, for though he was King of France, very soon I must be Queen of England, “you knew all the time.”
“How could I fail to know that one so full of grace and charm must be the incomparable Lady Anne? I will tell you something: I should have known you anywhere… masked or otherwise. I could see those black sparkling eyes through the slits in your mask. There is only one pair of eyes like that in the whole world.”
“You were teasing me.”
“Forgive,” he said pleadingly.
“The King of France asks forgiveness of a mere Marquess!”
“So soon to be the Queen…as she already is in the heart of the King of England and that of the King of France.”
I had had enough of this frivolous talk, and I asked about Marguerite.
“You and my dear sister were good friends, I remember. She follows your fortunes with great interest. She sends her good wishes to you. She says that she always knew you were meant for a distinguished career.”
“I am sorry not to see her.”
“She is now the Queen of Navarre.”
“I see that the King of Navarre is of your company.”
“He leaves Marguerite in charge of his kingdom.”
I did not believe that. I knew very well that the ladies had not come because I was not married to Henry. It was hurtful to my pride but understandable to my logic.
“She has a daughter—Jeanne—a bright child.”
“That must give her much pleasure. And her writing?”
“She will always have time for that.”
“I remember the stories of the Heptameron so well. My happiest times in France were with her.”
“I will convey your kind words to her.”
The King had called a halt to the dancing and François conducted me to Henry.
Whether François was genuinely sorry that he had not been able to give us his support and consequently we were still not married, I was not sure. One could never be entirely sure with François. But he seemed to be sincerely eager to do something to help.
Henry and I talked with him alone. He was very attentive to me and treated me with the utmost respect. He had sent me a gift of some magnificent diamonds and, apart from the fact that he had not brought the female members of his Court with him, he had behaved as though I were already Queen of England.
Frankly we discussed the divorce with him. The Pope was on the point of giving his verdict and we knew, in view of the relationship now existing between him and the Emperor, that it must be in Katharine's favor. Once that decision had been given, it would be difficult to act against it. It could only result in excommunication for Henry and myself if we went ahead with the marriage after that.
“I suggest that I send two of our Cardinals to Clement,” said François. “I will tell him that I have seen you in person and that you have agreed that the court shall be held here in France and when the verdict is given you will accept it.”
“But I will not accept it,” cried Henry hotly.
“Ah, but the whole point is the delay this will entail. It will give you time to conclude the measures you need to get the divorce declared in England, and for you to marry in the meantime. Then, whatever the decision of the court here, it will not affect you. You will already have obtained the divorce and married.”
“It seems feasible,” agreed Henry.
“We know Clement. He will seize on anything that will enable him to delay. He trembles because he fears that whatever decision is come to, he will suffer. He is afraid of you…but the Emperor is nearer at hand. He dare not offend Charles—but at the same time he does not want to offend you. You should be thankful that you have such a man to deal with.”
“There could be something in that,” Henry admitted.
We sat for a long time discussing the plan and we were both of the opinion that—for whatever reasons—François wanted to help us.
The following day there were tournaments and wrestling matches, but this time the two Kings did not attempt to wrestle with each other. They were not as agile as they had been thirteen years ago.
On the 30th of the month Henry left Calais with François. He escorted him to that point where the English dominions ended and they dismounted on French soil. They embraced like brothers—Henry told me afterward—and they vowed eternal friendship before they parted, François for Paris, Henry to join me in Calais.
We were not altogether displeased, although we had hoped to be married by now. But there was a good deal in Henry's point that the people would not have liked a marriage which had taken place in Calais. It was not fitting for a King of England to marry there. And this plan which François had put forward seemed feasible. So it had not been a wasted journey.
We now turned our faces toward home but the weather was against us. The gales had started and each day when we expected to sail we were advised not to.
We were nothing loath. We were together and there was plenty to do in Calais. In the evenings we played cards and dice. Henry lost a great deal of money to me, which seemed to amuse him. He liked me to win— and I liked winning, so we were both satisfied.
We played Pope Julius, a game which was now very fashionable at home. It was topical because of the divorce; and the various points in the game were matrimony, intrigue and pope—so it was significant and caused a great deal of amusement.
They were very pleasant days which we spent at Calais waiting for the weather to improve; and although I had not yet the legal right to call myself Queen, I felt I was in every other way.