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

The cheers of the people were always music in my ears.

It was Christmas, which was being celebrated at Hampton Court.

My father himself took me to the apartments which had been specially prepared for me and my ladies. They were splendid.

There was a happy smile on his face as he watched me examine them; he looked almost young, so delighted was he in my pleasure.

“You shall take the place of a queen,” he said. “I need a queen to be beside me.”

Ominous words, but they passed over my head at that time. I thought it was just his way of welcoming me.

I was courted now and treated with the utmost respect by those who had previously thought me unworthy of notice. It amused me; but it pleased me also.

I felt better than I had for a long time. I wanted to be at Court; I wanted to see at first hand what was happening. There was something extremely exciting in it, and I began to think that Dr. Butts might well be right that my illness grew out of melancholy and boredom.

My father never did anything half heartedly. His affection for me, which hitherto had not seemed to exist, now overflowed. There were jewels for me; fine clothes were sent for me to choose from. He expressed his delight to see me looking better. He treated me more like a mistress than a daughter. I think perhaps he did not know how to be a father.

In any case, I was delighted.

Chapuys was rubbing his hands with glee. Then I understood. We were once more in conflict with the French, and my father was seeking the friendship of the Emperor.

Nothing would please my cousin more than to see me brought back into favor. He would be well aware of my father's state of health and the frailty of Edward. The outcome seemed obvious. My dream did not now seem impossible, and it might well be that I was destined to bring England back to Rome. I must not betray for one moment that this was in my mind. It would be treason in the extreme; but one cannot help one's thoughts; and the need for friendship with the Emperor did explain to some extent my sudden rise to favor.

My father had cast off his gloom. He seemed better. He was at the center of the revels. He could not dance as he once did, but no one called attention to this; everyone behaved as though he were the handsome King he had once been—standing head and shoulders above all other men; it had never been difficult to deceive him in matters like that.

He was happy. He was keeping his enemies and friends on the Continent guessing which way he would turn—secretly jeering at Francois who had haggled over 50,000 crowns. Perhaps he wished he had not been so parsimonious now! The King of England would not have wanted to go to war with the family into which his daughter had married; and now war seemed imminent and the King of England stood with the Emperor.

I was still the tool of their political schemes; but on the other hand my father did seem fond of me.

He talked to me now and then, and there was real affection between us. My father had acted in a manner which had seemed very shocking to me; his actions had been responsible for my mother's sufferings; yet such was his nature that I could forget that while I was with him, and be happy because he seemed fond of me. He had great charm when he cared to exert it; I had seen the effect he had on people, and I think it was not entirely due to his power and that aura of royalty. It was something in his personality. My sister Elizabeth had inherited it, and I sometimes saw it in her.

He said, “I am happy now, daughter, that all is well between us. We have been the victims of evil influences… both of us. They have contrived to keep us apart. But now, praise God, right has prevailed.”

It was yet another facet of his personality that I almost believed him when I listened to him. I suppose I wanted to shut my eyes to the truth which should have been clear enough and to accept the verdict which was his alone. It was no use reasoning with such a man. He saw only one viewpoint—that which was made to fit his ideal of himself in order to keep that conscience of his in the chains he had forged for it to keep it in restraint.

He said to me one day, “Methinks I owe it to my people to marry again.”

I was alarmed. So he was contemplating taking another wife.

He nodded regretfully. “It is a duty, you know, daughter. A king should have many sons. I have Edward … and I have my good daughter…” He patted my knee affectionately, “… but I should give my people more sons.”

I could see that the cosy period was over. There would be another woman led to the sacrificial altar. I could tremble for her. Who would be brave enough to be the next?

“I am no longer young, Mary,” he went on. “This leg… this devil of a leg…you have no idea what I suffer.”

“I have, Your Majesty,” I replied. “And I am deeply sorry for the pain it causes you.”

He pressed my knee again. “I know, I know. It is a trial. I need a good woman…”

I was silent, fearing to speak lest I chose the wrong words.

“I need someone who will not plague me … someone not too young …” Thinking no doubt of that fresh, sensuous face of the girl who had been no coy virgin and had doubtless pleased him because of that for which she had been taken away from him—though I never believed that it was his will that she had been. Left to himself, he would have found some means to reinstate her, but her enemies had been astute enough to get the story circulated abroad. He could not have endured to think of Francois laughing at the poor old cuckolded King of England. “Yes,” he went on, “a mature woman … of good looks … experienced of life. No doll … a woman of some intellect… tender and loving…to be a comfort to me.”

“Where could such a woman be found, Your Majesty?”

“Ah, there you speak wisely. And mayhap I shall never find her.”

I guessed then that it would not be long before we had a new Queen.

THE NEWS CIRCULATED round the Court. The King was looking for a wife. This time, it was whispered, he would not have some foreign bride who was sent to him to strengthen a treaty, someone he had never seen before. He would choose her himself and by so doing make sure that he was not plagued further in his mature years.

I went to visit Anne. She was deeply disturbed.

“My brother is hoping that the King will take me back,” she said.

I stared at her. Could that be possible? In spite of the King's original revulsion for her, she was quite a good-looking woman. She no longer wore the hideous Dutch fashions which she had arrived in, and in our softer clothes she was almost handsome. Moreover the peaceful life she had been living agreed with her.

The King visited her now and then. He had made her his dear sister, and since she had ceased to be his wife he had grown quite fond of her.

Yes, I thought, she has reason to be afraid.

“I could not bear it,” she said to me. “I like so much my life here. I have my home…my income…my friends. I see Edward, and he is glad to see me… and my dear Elizabeth. To be with her makes me happy. I am not denied their company. I see you, my dear Mary. You are my friend. I have this family I have inherited. I do not want to go back to Cleves. I want to go on living here in my nice house with my nice servants… and my dear family close. I want no change.”

“Do you really think he might want to take you back as his wife?”

She looked alarmed and then, as though she were trying to convince herself, she said, “No … he did not like me when I came…Surely he cannot have changed. But I do know he likes to talk to me. He respects my views. He is fond of his dear sister. There is just a fear …” She put her hand to her heart. “A little fear in here. But I could not bear it, Mary. Sooner or later…”

She put her hand to her throat.

“I understand,” I said. “Oh, my dear Anne, I hope it never comes to that.”