In the Shadow of the Crown - Plaidy Jean (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗
I shall never forget that meeting. My heart leaped with pleasure at the sight of him. I could hardly believe what I saw. He was tall and fair, with Nordic good looks; his manners were easy and pleasant; he was a very attractive man.
He took my hand and kissed it and raised his blue eyes to my face. They were such kind blue eyes. I warmed toward him, and I felt he did toward me.
The manners of the Court of Bavaria were different from those of ours, and I was taken by surprise when he leaned forward suddenly and kissed my lips.
I had no German and he no English, so we must speak in Latin.
He told me how great was his pleasure in beholding me, and I replied that I was glad I pleased him.
I wondered how truthful he was. I knew I was not one of the beauties of the Court; I was small and thin and in spite of this I was lacking in that very desirable quality of femininity, for I had a rather deep voice. People often said that when I spoke I reminded them of my father; but I do admit that he had a rather high voice for a man, while mine was somewhat low for a woman.
I must regret—as I always would—that my prospective bridegroom was not Reginald; but I was growing old, and it was long since I had seen him. My father would never consent to that match, and Philip of Bavaria was an exceptionally attractive man.
I enjoyed our conversation. It was somewhat stilted, being in Latin, and very often caused us to smile; but I was gratified and content when he told me that he was falling in love with me.
He presented me with a diamond cross on a chain which he said I must wear for his sake.
Such an adventure was a novelty to me, and I enjoyed it without giving a great deal of thought to what a match with Bavaria might entail.
Chapuys came to see me. He was most disturbed about the Cleves betrothal but far more so with the proposed marriage of myself and Philip of Bavaria.
“You will be expected to embrace the Protestant Faith,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Had that not occurred to you?” he asked in shocked tone.
What a fool I had been! I might have known nothing could go smoothly for me. How could I expect to have the joy of a perfect marriage? I liked Philip. When I considered the kind of bridegrooms who were presented to some princesses, I had reason to rejoice. If only that were all. He was handsome, charming, a man whom I could like. But, of course, he was a heretic.
Chapuys was regarding my horror with some satisfaction.
“You could never marry a heretic,” he said.
“Never,” I agreed. “And yet … my father has allowed Cromwell to arrange this marriage.”
“My master will be greatly displeased.”
I might have pointed out that his master had done little to help in a practical way, being always too immersed in his own political schemes. They did not seem to realize that I was a poor desolate young woman with little power to act in the way she wanted, even though she might have the inclination.
“This marriage will be disastrous.”
“What of the King's?”
“The King's is not good. But you are the hope …” He did not finish but his words made me tremble. I was the hope of the Catholic world. Mine was the task to bring this country back to the true Faith.
How could I have been so blind as to rejoice because Philip of Bavaria was a young and presentable man… when he was a heretic?
I could not marry him. Yet it might be that I must. I prayed. I called on my mother in Heaven to help me. But what could I do? If my father—and Cromwell—desired this marriage, I was powerless to prevent it.
My dream of possible happiness was fading away. I was weak. I was helpless—and I was about to be married to a heretic. I did think about him a good deal. I had wanted this marriage…I was tired of spinsterhood. I had dreams of converting him to the true Faith. I encouraged that dream because I wanted to marry, and it was only with such a project in mind that I could do so with a good conscience.
ON THE 27TH of December Anne of Cleves left Calais to sail for England. When she landed at Deal, she was taken to Walmer Castle and, after a rest there, she proceeded to Dover Castle where, because the weather was bitterly cold and the winds were of gale force, she stayed for three days. Then she set out for Canterbury, where she was met by a company of the greatest nobles in the land, including the Duke of Norfolk. She must have been gratified by the warmth of her welcome and perhaps looked forward with great pleasure to meeting the man who was to be her husband.
Poor Anne! When I grew to know her, I felt sorry for her; and I often pondered on the unhappiness my father brought to all the women who were close to him.
He forgot that he was ageing, that he was no longer the romantic lover. He was excited. Pretending to be young again, going forth to meet the lady of Holbein's miniature and to sweep her off her feet with his passionate courtship. He had brought a gift for his bride: the finest sables in the kingdom to be made into a muff or a tippet.
It was at Rochester where they met. Unable to curb his impatience any longer, my father rode out to meet her cavalcade. He sent his Master of Horse, Anthony Browne, on ahead to tell Anne that he was there and wanted to give her a New Year's present.
I wished that I had seen that first meeting. I will say this in his favor. He did not convey to her immediately his complete and utter disappointment. He curbed his anger and made a show of courtesy. But she must have known. She was never a fool.
I did hear that, when he left her, he gave vent to his anger. There were plenty who heard it and were ready to report it. He was utterly shocked. The woman he saw was not in the least like Holbein's miniature, he complained. Where was that rose-tinted skin? Hers was pitted with smallpox scars. She was big, and he did not like big women. She was supposed to be twenty-four, but she looked more like thirty. Her features were heavy, and she was without that alluring femininity which so appealed to his nature.
He did not stay long with her. It would have been too much to keep up the pretense of welcome when all the time he wanted to shout out his disappointment.
Lord Russell, who witnessed the scene, said he had never seen anyone so astonished and abashed. As soon as he left her, his face turned purple with rage and he mumbled that he had never seen a lady so unlike what had been represented to him. “I see nothing… nothing of what has been shown to me in her picture. I am ashamed that I have been so deceived and I love her not.”
He could not bring himself to give her the sables personally but, as he had mentioned a New Year's gift, he sent Sir Anthony Browne to give them to her.
Meanwhile he raged against all those who had deceived him. She was ugly; her very talk grated on his ears. He would never speak Dutch—and she had no English. They had brought him a great Flanders mare.
I wondered what she thought of him. His manners might have been courtly enough during that brief meeting; his voice was musical, though of a high pitch. But he was now overweight, lame and ageing; though he still had a certain charm; and he would always retain that aura of royal dignity.
It is well known now how my father tried to extricate himself, how he sought to prove that Anne had a pre-contract with the Duke of Lorraine and was therefore not free to marry.
Nothing could be proved. Anne swore that there had been no precontract. Glaring at Cromwell as though he would like to kill him, the King said, “Is there none other remedy that I must needs, against my will, put my neck in this yoke?”
A few days after Anne's arrival, my father invested Philip of Bavaria with the Order of the Garter. It was a moving ceremony, and Philip looked very handsome and dignified. I was proud of him. People commented on his good looks and his reputation for bravery. I was learning more about him. He was called “Philip the Warlike” because he had defended his country some years before against the Turk and scored a great victory. And…I was liking him more every day.
