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

In due course the envoys arrived. I went to meet them. I was very much aware of my father, beaming happily, but I had already noticed how quickly his moods of affectionate bonhomie could change, and I dreaded to see the frown come over his face and his eyes narrow to points of icy blue, and— most expressive of all—the mouth become a tight line. It was then one must beware.

But all went well. I spoke my French fluently and the envoys were impressed. They paid me gracious compliments, and my father stood by, beaming benignly. All was well. I was passing the test.

We sat down to dine. My father and mother were together at the great table which commanded a full view of the hall. I was at the center of another table with the French envoys and some ladies, all from the most noble families in the land. The feasting seemed to go on interminably, and all the time I must speak graciously in French, which somehow I contrived to everyone's satisfaction. The food was served on gold and silver plates. There was meat, fish and pies of all description and while we ate the musicians played soft music.

When the banquet was over, the entertainment began. Children were brought in to sing and recite. There was a mock battle between righteousness and evil—righteousness naturally victorious.

I had slipped away, as arranged, to play my part. The curtain which divided the theater from the banqueting hall was drawn back to disclose a cave from which I emerged with seven ladies. We were all dressed in cloth of gold and crimson tinsel, with crimson hats covered in pearls and precious stones. As we came out of our cave, seven young gentlemen came out from another and we danced the ballet as we had practiced it. I am glad to say that everything went even better than it had at rehearsals.

There was tremendous applause, and the company made it clear that they had been particularly enchanted by my performance.

The meeting had been very satisfactory, and my father was pleased. That night I went to bed happy, flushed with my triumph.

There were other entertainments, and always I was there, seated close to the French envoys. They were all very gallant to me and I was told that they were astonished by my beauty and my erudition.

There was, however, one word of criticism. Turenne, the French ambassador, remarked that I was undoubtedly handsome and well endowed mentally, but I was spare, sparse and thin and would not be ready for marriage for at least three years.

The Countess, when she heard of this, said with an air of “I told you so” that they had kept me at my desk too long and I had not had enough fresh air and exercise, because Johannes Ludovicus Vives had insisted and she had always been against it. I should be allowed a more normal life—a little more time for recreation in place of so many lessons.

Perhaps she was right, but at least I had been able to converse and impress people with my erudition.

At one entertainment my father led me in the dance and we performed the stately pavanne together. He treated me with great affection and showed everyone, as we danced, how fond he was of me. There was that about my father—and this was so later when much was not well between us—that made any show of affection from him warm the heart; he could banish resentments with a smile; it was this quality which made him what he was and later led him to believe that he could act in any way he pleased.

So happily I danced with him, and that was one of the happiest occasions of the French visit.

Something happened on that night. It was when the music was playing one of the dances that each gentleman asked the lady of his choice to dance with him. The rule was for the King to select his lady and the rest would follow. I had expected him to dance with my mother, but he did not. He had walked across the room and was standing before a girl. I had seen her at some of the revelries before. She was the sort of person whom one would notice. I cannot say what it was about her. She was not beautiful…at least not in the conventional way. But there was something distinctive about her. When I came to compare her with the other ladies, it seemed that there was a uniformity about them and often one could mistake one for another. That could never happen to this girl. No one else looked in the least like her. Her dark hair fell to her waist. Her enormous eyes were sparkling and luminous; her dress was not exactly in the fashion of the day and yet it was more stylish. It had long hanging sleeves and there was a jewel on a band about her neck. I was even more struck by the grace with which she moved.

I noticed that people watched her all the time. I believed they were whispering about her. I meant to ask someone who she was, but I had not done so at that stage.

She seemed a little reluctant to dance but, of course, she could not refuse the King.

The music was playing. The King took her hand, and the dance began. The French ambassador asked me to dance and we fell in behind the King and his partner.

I WAS ALONE with my mother. Such occasions were rare and therefore very precious to me. She told me how proud she was of me. My father was pleased; the French were satisfied; they would carry back a good report of me to the King.

She said suddenly, “The Emperor has become a father.”

I stared at her. I felt my face harden.

She went on, “He has a son…a little boy. He is to be called Philip after the Emperor's father. I wonder if he will be as handsome.”

I was silent. I could not speak.

My mother took my hand and gripped it. I saw the tears on her cheeks.

“Dear Mother,” I began, dropping formality. I stood up and put my arms about her. It seemed as if that were the wrong thing to do, for the tears came faster.

She said, “He has been married such a short time and already he has a son. Why cannot…? Why? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Why is God punishing me?”

I said, “You have me…”

Then she began to weep openly. “You mean more to me, my daughter, than any son could mean, except…except…You see, your father wants sons. Oh, you will have to know sooner or later. How much longer can it be kept from you?”

“Tell me, Mother, tell me,” I begged.

“But you are a child still…”

“The envoys thought I was far from stupid.”

She stroked my hair. “You are my clever daughter. I want you to know that I love you. It has been my great sorrow that we have had to be apart so often.”

“I always understood,” I told her, kissing her hand. “Please tell me. Perhaps I can comfort you.”

“Your father would be rid of me.”

“But…no…how…?”

“He seeks means. He says he is afraid our marriage is no true marriage and that is why I have been unable to give him sons.”

“But you are the Queen…”

“You know I was married before.”

“Yes, to Prince Arthur. Everyone knows.”

“In the Bible it says that if a man marries his brother's widow the union shall be childless.”

“But why…?”

“It is said to be unclean. Again and again I have told him that I was never Arthur's wife in the true sense.”

“And you are not childless. You have me… and there were others.”

“You, my dearest, are the only one who survived and you are a girl.”

“I see, he thinks God is punishing him for disobeying His Laws.”

“I would never disobey God's Laws. I was never Arthur's wife. Your father is the only man I have known as a husband.”

“You have told him that.”

“A thousand times.”

“Dearest Mother, do not grieve. Everyone will understand.”

“Your father is determined. He says he must have a son…a legitimate son. And the only way he can do that is by ridding himself of me.”

I was puzzled. It seemed impossible to me. My mother was the Queen. My father was married to her, so how could he marry someone else in order to get a son?