In the Shadow of the Crown - Plaidy Jean (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗
“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.
