Текст книги "In the Shadow of the Crown "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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All the time I thought of the Emperor Charles. I built up a picture of a hero in my mind. My mother, the Countess and all the women of the household constantly told me how much I loved my future husband. He was always in my thoughts. When I read my books, when I translated my Latin passages, I thought of him and how proud he would be of me.
THIS STATE OF AFFAIRS continued for two years, until I was nine years old. It was the year 1526—an eventful one for me because, I suppose, during it I grew up. I ceased to be an innocent child, for many things were revealed to me.
I had been vaguely aware that a great deal had been happening in Europe during that time. I had known that my father and my beloved Emperor were friends and allies and that we were at war with that wicked man of Europe whose evil schemes the heroes were determined to suppress. That was François Premier.
One day I saw my mother in a state of great excitement. It was good news, she told me. The war would soon be over. François, attempting to take Pavia, had been captured and was now the Emperor's prisoner in Madrid.
It was wonderful. It was good triumphing over evil, which I believed to be always the case in the end.
“Your father and the Emperor will now jointly invade France, and between them they will share that land.”
I listened, starry-eyed.
The Cardinal came to see me. I was not sure that I liked him. He was always rather unctuous but at the same time giving an impression that it would be unwise to cross him.
He kissed my hand with reverence and asked after my health. Then he told me he had brought something to show me. He opened a case and in it was a magnificent emerald ring.
“It is very beautiful,” I said.
“His Grace, your father, and I believe it is time you showed the Emperor your true feelings for him. I know you regard him with great tenderness.”
“Yes, my lord Cardinal.”
He smiled at me. “That is well. Did you know that the emerald is often a gift bestowed by lovers? It is said that the brilliant green will fade if the lover who receives it is unfaithful. Would you not like to send this to the Emperor as a token of your love for him?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Yes, I should like to do that.”
He smiled benignly. “I have written a letter telling him that your love for His great Eminence has raised such a passion in you that it is confirmed by jealousy, which is the first sign and token of love.”
“Perhaps one should not say that, there being no cause for jealousy.”
“Ah, but you would be jealous if there was a cause.”
“Oh … mayhap,” I agreed.
“Then it shall be sent. I am sure the emerald will retain its brilliant green for many a year.”
So the emerald was sent and the Cardinal visited me again to tell me that when the Emperor received the ring he had said he would wear it for the sake of the Princess. Those were his very words.
The Cardinal seemed very satisfied, smiling inwardly, it seemed to me, by which I mean not at me but at his secret thoughts.
I wondered why, after so many years, I should have been given this emerald to send to my betrothed. Why so suddenly? But then he had said he would wear it for my sake, and that warmed my heart.
I was to learn later. It was all part of the rude awakening.
Everything began to go wrong in that year. Perhaps it was because I was getting to an age of understanding. I had not seen the evil which existed all around me. Perhaps I should have noticed my mother's tragic looks, the furtive glances which members of my household gave each other; perhaps I should have noticed the whispering in the corners. I was so immersed in my studies that I had no time to observe what was going on.
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.”
“So you mean that it was solely because he wanted that, that he became betrothed to me?”
“That is how royal marriages are made. In fact, the marriages of most of us come about because of the advantages they can bring to our families, and with the sons and daughters of kings it is for the good of the country.”
“You mean that he really did not love me. But I…”
“No, Princess, you did not love him. You did not know him. You were told you loved him. You thought it was love, as in those romances which Vives forbade you to read. Perhaps he was right, for they gave you idealistic ideas which are not always true to life.”
“What has happened? Please tell me, Countess.”
“The Emperor is considering marrying Isabel of Portugal.”
“But how can he do that?”
“With the greatest of ease. He has asked your father to send you to Spain immediately, with your dowry of 400,000 ducats, and he wants an undertaking from your father to contribute half of the expenses of the war with France. Those are his terms. He knows they are ones which your father cannot fulfill for he could not raise the money without plunging this country into disorder.”
“So that means…”
“It means that the Emperor is hinting that the agreement with your father is coming to an end.”
“So it was not I whom he loved…”
“Little Princess, it never was. We do not live in a dream world where gallant knights in shining armor die for their ladies. It is a harsh world, and the realities are quite different. There is love. You have mine. I would do anything I could for your happiness; and you know how dear you are to your mother. But we live close to you. We know you. You are a living human being to us. You are not a counter in a game to be moved this way or that. You are our own dear Princess whom we love. That is the love to seek and cherish; and perhaps, in time, when a husband is found for you, you will grow together and love each other in due course. It happens again and again.
“I was eighteen years old when I married. It is a good age to marry, for although one is young, one has had time to glean some experience. My husband was chosen for me.” Her eyes were reminiscent, as she went on, “He was Sir Richard Pole and owned lands in Buckinghamshire. The King, your grandfather, approved of the match and he made him a Squire of the Body and a Knight of the Garter. He served the King faithfully. He distinguished himself in the Perkin Warbeck revolt and he fought well for the King in Scotland. Then he went to Wales as a Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Prince Arthur, who, as you know, was married to your mother before she married the King.”
“Yes, I know,” I said, “but it was no real marriage. He was too young and sick.”
She nodded. “My husband and I were married for nearly fourteen years and then he died.”
“You must have been very sad.”
“Yes… but I had my children. You see, there are compensations. They made it all worth while. We had five children: Henry, Arthur, Reginald, Geoffry and Ursula.”
“My mother must envy you. She is sad because she has only one.”
“But that one is more precious to her because she is the only one.”
“But all yours are precious to you. I know by the way you speak of them…particularly Reginald.”
“Parents should not have a favorite.”
“But they do… and yours is Reginald.”
She smiled at me. “So you see, my dear, you must not grieve. You must look for happiness. You must accept your lot, and if the marriage with the Emperor does not take place, after all, you will say to yourself, perhaps it was for the best.”
“I cannot forget him as easily as that.”
“Dear child, you did not know him. You have built up a picture of him. You are so young. You know nothing of these matters.”
“Because no one tells me.”
She was silent for a while. Then she said, “Perhaps I have talked too much. Your mother is very unhappy at this time.”
“She wanted so much for me to marry the Emperor because he is half Spanish and her nephew.”
“Yes. You should wait until she talks to you of these matters. She has much on her mind. When she is with you, you must try to distract her from her melancholy. Do not let her see that you are affected because this marriage with the Emperor is not to take place.”
I nodded gravely. She took my hand and kissed it.
“You are a good child,” she said and there were tears in her eyes. “I hope and pray that all goes well with you. It has been my great privilege to serve in your household, and you will always be as my own to me.”
I kissed her tenderly. I loved her very much and I could see how anxious she was, fearing that she had said too much. What she had said could have been construed as treason. Since her brother, Edward, Earl of Warwick, had been murdered on the orders of my grandfather, Henry VII, for no other reason than that he was a Plantagenet with a claim to the throne, the Countess had lived under the shadow of the axe, for it could descend upon her if she were to utter one careless word which could be construed as treason.
She had taken certain risks in talking to me so frankly, and I knew that it was because of her love for me that she had done so. She had realized that certain events could not be kept from me much longer and she wanted to prepare me for them.
I was desolate. I told myself that I should be heartbroken if it really came to pass that the Emperor jilted me.
NOW THAT THE COUNTESS had spoken to me more frankly than ever before, the ice was broken and she was less restrained than she had been hitherto. She must have felt that, having gone so far, there was no point in holding anything back which it would soon be impossible to keep from me for long.
But I was still in the dark regarding the really great trouble which was to make such a difference to both my mother and me and which was to cast a dark shadow over our lives. I thought at the time that my mother's tragic looks were due solely to the fact that she was upset because of the strained relationship between my father and the Emperor, but I soon learned this was not so.
An event took place in June of that year which I found irritating, though little did I understand its significance at that time.
I had always been aware of the existence of Henry Fitzroy and what a trial he was to my mother because he was a continual reproach to her. She could not give the King a son but another woman could, which pointed to the conclusion that the fault lay with the Queen.
Henry Fitzroy had been born in June six years before, and to celebrate his birthday there was a very grand ceremony, and on that day he was made a Knight of the Garter.
To bestow such an honor on one so young seemed in itself ridiculous but the King was anxious to show his feelings for his son, and at this time– though I learned this later—he was calling attention to the sorry plight in which he and the nation had been placed by his marriage to a woman who could not bear a son.
I did not see my mother at this time. Even my father would not expect her to be present at such a ceremony, for he must have realized how painful it would be to her. It was an indication of his resentment that he had allowed it to take place. Later I saw how every act of his at this time was working toward one end.
This ceremony concerned me too. I was the heir to the throne. What did the King mean by bestowing such an honor on his bastard? It must have occurred to many that he intended to set the boy above me. It would never be tolerated. The people of England would not have a bastard on the throne.
Being but nine years old, and only just made aware of the perfidy of rulers, I could not grasp the significance of these events; but at the same time I was aware of disaster looming. It was like the shivering of aspen leaves when a storm is approaching; it was in the silences of people around me and the sudden termination of conversations when I approached.
Soon after the ceremony the French envoy, De Vaux, came to London. He had been sent, the Countess told me, by the mother of François who was acting as the Regent of France during the King's absence in Madrid.
“Why is he here?” I asked.
“It is to make terms with your father.”
“That means there is peace with France?”
“There will be.”
“What of the Emperor? Our alliance with him is over?”
“Well, the war is over now.”
“So we are no longer friends with him?”
“Oh, it will be amicably settled… but no one has any wish to continue with the war.”
“But why does the French envoy come here?”
“He will make peace terms with your father.”
“It seems so strange. We hated them so much and now there are lavish entertainments for the French.”
“That is diplomacy.”
“I do not understand it.”
“Few people understand diplomacy. It is a veil of discretion and politeness covering the real meaning.”
“Why do people not say what they mean?”
“Because that could be very disturbing.”
I did know that I was one of the subjects which was being discussed by my father, the Cardinal and the French envoy. First it was announced that I was to go to Ludlow.
My mother came to tell me this. I noticed that she looked older. There was gray in her hair, more lines on her face, and her skin had lost its healthy color.
“You are to go to Ludlow, my dear child,” she told me. “You will like it there.”
“I wonder why I am so suddenly to go,” I said. I was beginning to realize that there were usually reasons.
“Your father thinks it would be good for you to go. You see, Ludlow is an important place. Your Uncle Arthur was there just before he died. I remember it well. It is a very beautiful spot. Prince Arthur was Prince of Wales when he was there, and you will be the Princess of Wales. Your father is going to give you that title.”
I was pleased, particularly as I had felt that fluttering of alarm because of the honor done to Henry Fitzroy.
“Your household will go with you,” my mother explained. “It will be just as it is here.”
“And you, my lady?”
Her lips tightened as though she were trying to control some emotion.
“I shall, of course, be with the Court. But we shall meet often and there will be no change. Your father will wish you to go very soon.”
The Countess told me that it was good that we were going. “It means,” she explained, “that your father is telling the world that you are Princess of Wales.”
“That means the heir to the throne, does it not?”
“It does indeed.”
“Perhaps he thought that people wondered after the honor done to Henry Fitzroy.”
“Oh, that was not important. You must not think that it detracts from you. You are his daughter. Everyone knows that. They know the respect that is due to you. Now we shall have to prepare for your departure, which I believe is to be soon.”
MY PARENTS AND the Court accompanied me to Langley in Hertfordshire, and there I said goodbye to them. There was some constraint between my parents, and I thought there was something forced in my father's laughter. He was almost boisterously merry. He embraced me warmly and referred to me as his Princess, the Princess of Wales.
The Countess had told me that it was the first time the title had been bestowed on a member of the female sex, so I should be very proud. My mother smiled on me warmly but she could not hide her sorrow from me. I wanted to protect her, to share her unhappiness—if she would but tell me the cause of it. I still thought it had something to do with the Emperor and believed we might have comforted each other.
There was a certain sadness when we parted, although my mother said we should meet often and my father took every opportunity of showing his affection for me.
At length they had gone and I, with my entourage, made my way to Ludlow.
The countryside is exceptionally beautiful, and the castle stood on the north-west side of the charming town. Some of the people came out of their houses to cheer me as I passed, and that pleased me.
The Countess told me that in the castle I should have a larger household than I had had before. Princess Mary had become the Princess of Wales, and there was a distinction.
I was gratified. I had been foolish, I told myself, to have had qualms about the little bastard Fitzroy. How could I have thought that the King would contemplate putting him above me just because he was a boy? The people loved me. They had shown that. “God bless the little Princess,” they had shouted. They could not call Henry Fitzroy a prince. He was, after all, only Bessie Blount's son and I was the daughter of a princess of Spain.
The castle was a fine example of Norman architecture, having been built very soon after the Norman Conquest by a certain Roger de Montgomery. In a way there were sad memories within its walls for there, after the death of his father, little Edward V had lived for a while. It was in this very castle that he had been proclaimed King, and three months later he had been in the Tower with his young brother the Duke of York where, it was said, he had been murdered by his uncle, Richard III. I could not help thinking of that little boy who had lived here with a terrible fate hanging over him. It was a reminder of what harm could come to princes from those who coveted the throne.
My mother's first husband had lived here with her for five months before he died in this very castle. I imagined her living here…a young girl…in a new land. How sad for her when, so young, she found herself a widow.
She had spoken of those days with sadness. It was as though she looked shudderingly over her shoulder at the past. She had been alone and poor for so long before my father, like a gallant knight, had rescued her and made her his bride.
And now here was I, wondering now and then why I had been elevated and given a larger household. I did not know then that it was less grand than that which had been bestowed on Henry Fitzroy.
Life was different here. It was my first taste of queenship, for I was a little queen here. I was made to feel important. I had certain duties, and they were those of a ruler. I realized I was learning how to rule. People brought petitions to me and I presided over a Council. The Countess was invariably at my side. She taught me how to speak to the Council, how to deal with the people who came asking favors. There was less time spent at my desk. These were different lessons.
My household consisted of an impressive number of officials. I had my Lord Steward, the Chamberlain, Treasurer and Controller and many more, including fourteen ladies, all of high birth and in the charge of the Countess who ruled over us all and to whom I could always turn in moments of uncertainty.
I was forgetting my disappointment over the Emperor, although I could not entirely believe that he would not marry me. All the same, I was enjoying my new status. This was a miniature Court and I was learning to become a queen. I realized that I should enjoy that very much.
How different life had become from those long days of study under the guidance of Johannes Ludovicus Vives. The only thing lacking was the company of my mother. I thought of her often and used to say to myself: I wonder whether she sat here? Did she and Arthur walk along this path? It was long, long before I was born. It is hard when one is young to imagine a world without oneself.
Christmas came. It was a very merry one. I was at the center of the revelry. We had our Lord of Misrule and many masques and I led the dances.
The Countess said she was delighted that I was enjoying the fun. I had a faint impression, though, that she was keeping something from me, which brought a little uneasiness into the jollity; but in those first months at Ludlow I was a little intoxicated with my new power. I had learned that I cared passionately about my position. I had not known before how much I wanted to be a queen.
It was March when I heard the news.
The Countess told me.
“You never talk of the Emperor now as you used to,” she said.
“I think of him still,” I told her.
“But you now understand, don't you, that the betrothal was in truth a matter of state… and such are laid on flimsy foundations?”
“What do you want to tell me, Countess?”
She sighed. “Well, you have to know, but I believe it will not be such a shock as it might have been if you had not been warned. The Emperor has married Isabel of Portugal.”
I stared at her unbelievingly. Although it had been hinted that this marriage might take place, I had never expected that it would. He had been promised to me and I to him. How could he have married someone else?
The Countess was looking at me helplessly. “You were only six,” she reminded me, “and you only saw him for such a short time. It was all built up in your mind. You will see that when you look at it more clearly.”
“Yes,” I said, “it was all built up in my mind.”
I pretended not to care. But I did; and often, when I was alone in my bed, I shed tears for the perfidy of rulers, for the loss of my beliefs, for the fact that my childish innocence had gone forever.
