Naturally there were spies about the Court whose intention was to report everything that happened, and it was soon known throughout Europe that the King was not in good health, that Edward was frail—and at that only five years old; and it would seem significant that my father had brought me to Court and was treating me with more affection than he had shown toward me since he had decided to discard my mother.
It was not long before King François of France was putting out feelers. His son Charles of Orleans was in need of a bride, and there was none he would welcome as he would the Lady Mary.
I was not very pleased. I had almost become reconciled to being a spinster, to living on the fringe of the Court; after all, there was a great deal to be said for a certain obscurity. One did not have to suffer those alarms every time trouble with which one could be connected sprang up somewhere.
I had settled into a routine, where I could read, write to my friends, occasionally receive them, walk a good deal—I was fond of fresh air, be with my ladies in the evenings by the fire or perhaps, in summer, sit out of doors with dear old Jane the Fool to enliven the hours. It might be a little dull and unadventurous but it was not without its pleasure, and peace of mind was something to treasure when one had had little of it.
How should I know what would be waiting for me at the French Court? Moreover, Chapuys would be against it. If there was to be a union—and I could not have Reginald; that seemed impossible now for he was getting quite old—I would have liked it to bring me closer to the Emperor.
In fact, I found the whole matter rather distasteful, particularly when I discovered that French spies had been questioning my bedchamber women. It was well known that throughout my life I had had bouts of severe illness, and these spies asked delicate and embarrassing questions. They wanted to assure themselves that I was capable of bearing children. They would be considering the many miscarriages my mother had had; my father's children— apart from Elizabeth—were not strong. The Duke of Richmond had died young; Edward was fragile, and I was plagued with illness from time to time. Did that mean that I might not be capable of bearing children?
How serious the negotiations were, I am not sure. The political situation on the Continent was never stable for long; friends became enemies overnight, and that had its effect on proposed marriages. It might have been that it was never intended that there should be a marriage.
The fact that there was a great deal of squabbling over the dowry suggested to me—now experienced in these matters after so many proposals which had come to nothing—that the proposed marriage was a gesture to give the Emperor some apprehension, as the last thing he would want would be an alliance between France and England. My father offered a dowry of 200,000 crowns and François demanded 250,000. Charles of Orleans was only a second son, it was pointed out; I do not know what the response was, but it might have been that the doubts of my legitimacy were referred to.
As the haggling went on, I guessed nothing would come of it, but I was in a state of uncertainty. I had so wanted to marry happily and most of all to have children. I thought this must be the greatest joy on Earth. How wonderful to have a child who would be to me as I had been to my mother! The longing for such a life was with me always
I think it was due to this uncertainty—another proposed marriage which was to end in nothing—that made me ill. There were some doctors who thought my illnesses were due not so much to an affliction of the body as one of the mind. Not that I was in any way unbalanced; but I was often melancholy; and I had suffered so much in my youth, living as I had on the edge of death, that it had affected my health. I was different from my sister Elizabeth. She, too, was in a precarious position, but she seemed to thrive on it. But she was not in such danger as I was, for throughout the country I was seen as the figurehead for those people who wished to deny the King's supremacy in the Church and to lead them back to Rome.
I was very ill this time. Every time I lifted my head from the pillow, I suffered such dizziness that I could not leave my bed. My head ached and I was seized with trembling fits.
I believe those about me thought I would die.
My father visited me. He was most concerned.
“You must get well,” he said. “You shall come to Court. You shall take the place beside me which the Queen would have. You shall be my right hand.”
I smiled wanly. I was too tired and listless to care whether he favored me or not.
He sent Dr. Butts to attend to me—a sign of his favor; Dr. Butts was the only one who seemed to understand my illness and with his care I began to recover.
Susan told me that he thought that if I were happily married and had children I should cease to be tormented by these bouts of illness.
“The Lady Mary has nothing wrong with her body,” he told her. “If she could live in peace and ease…live naturally…I would be ready to wager that she would gradually cast off these periodic bouts of illness.”
He appeared to know how to treat me, and the very presence of Dr. Butts in the household had an effect on me.
My health was improving.
The King came to see me and said I must come to Court as soon as possible, where I could be sure of a welcome.
I always seemed to recover quickly after my illnesses, and I took a week or so to get completely well—taking walks, playing the virginals, chatting with my ladies and laughing at Jane the Fool.
Then I was ready to return to Court.
My father had been right when he said I should be welcomed. As I rode into the city with my household, the people came into the streets to cheer me. They had always been my friends. I did wonder whether the attention I was receiving now was partly to placate them. But as, recently, he had often acted in a manner to make himself unpopular, perhaps it was not that. It might be that he really did feel the need to have his family about him and wanted to have a happy relationship with his daughter.
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 François 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 François 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.
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