In the Shadow of the Crown (7 page)

“You are to go to Ludlow, my dear child,” she told me. “You will like it there.”

“I wonder why I am so suddenly to go,” I said. I was beginning to realize that there were usually reasons.

“Your father thinks it would be good for you to go. You see, Ludlow is
an important place. Your Uncle Arthur was there just before he died. I remember it well. It is a very beautiful spot. Prince Arthur was Prince of Wales when he was there, and you will be the Princess of Wales. Your father is going to give you that title.”

I was pleased, particularly as I had felt that fluttering of alarm because of the honor done to Henry Fitzroy.

“Your household will go with you,” my mother explained. “It will be just as it is here.”

“And you, my lady?”

Her lips tightened as though she were trying to control some emotion.

“I shall, of course, be with the Court. But we shall meet often and there will be no change. Your father will wish you to go very soon.”

The Countess told me that it was good that we were going. “It means,” she explained, “that your father is telling the world that you are Princess of Wales.”

“That means the heir to the throne, does it not?”

“It does indeed.”

“Perhaps he thought that people wondered after the honor done to Henry Fitzroy.”

“Oh, that was not important. You must not think that it detracts from you. You are his daughter. Everyone knows that. They know the respect that is due to you. Now we shall have to prepare for your departure, which I believe is to be soon.”

MY PARENTS AND the Court accompanied me to Langley in Hertfordshire, and there I said goodbye to them. There was some constraint between my parents, and I thought there was something forced in my father's laughter. He was almost boisterously merry. He embraced me warmly and referred to me as his Princess, the Princess of Wales.

The Countess had told me that it was the first time the title had been bestowed on a member of the female sex, so I should be very proud. My mother smiled on me warmly but she could not hide her sorrow from me. I wanted to protect her, to share her unhappiness—if she would but tell me the cause of it. I still thought it had something to do with the Emperor and believed we might have comforted each other.

There was a certain sadness when we parted, although my mother said we should meet often and my father took every opportunity of showing his affection for me.

At length they had gone and I, with my entourage, made my way to Ludlow.

The countryside is exceptionally beautiful, and the castle stood on the
north-west side of the charming town. Some of the people came out of their houses to cheer me as I passed, and that pleased me.

The Countess told me that in the castle I should have a larger household than I had had before. Princess Mary had become the Princess of Wales, and there was a distinction.

I was gratified. I had been foolish, I told myself, to have had qualms about the little bastard Fitzroy. How could I have thought that the King would contemplate putting him above me just because he was a boy? The people loved me. They had shown that. “God bless the little Princess,” they had shouted. They could not call Henry Fitzroy a prince. He was, after all, only Bessie Blount's son and I was the daughter of a princess of Spain.

The castle was a fine example of Norman architecture, having been built very soon after the Norman Conquest by a certain Roger de Montgomery. In a way there were sad memories within its walls for there, after the death of his father, little Edward V had lived for a while. It was in this very castle that he had been proclaimed King, and three months later he had been in the Tower with his young brother the Duke of York where, it was said, he had been murdered by his uncle, Richard III. I could not help thinking of that little boy who had lived here with a terrible fate hanging over him. It was a reminder of what harm could come to princes from those who coveted the throne.

My mother's first husband had lived here with her for five months before he died in this very castle. I imagined her living here…a young girl…in a new land. How sad for her when, so young, she found herself a widow.

She had spoken of those days with sadness. It was as though she looked shudderingly over her shoulder at the past. She had been alone and poor for so long before my father, like a gallant knight, had rescued her and made her his bride.

And now here was I, wondering now and then why I had been elevated and given a larger household. I did not know then that it was less grand than that which had been bestowed on Henry Fitzroy.

Life was different here. It was my first taste of queenship, for I was a little queen here. I was made to feel important. I had certain duties, and they were those of a ruler. I realized I was
learning
how to rule. People brought petitions to me and I presided over a Council. The Countess was invariably at my side. She taught me how to speak to the Council, how to deal with the people who came asking favors. There was less time spent at my desk. These were different lessons.

My household consisted of an impressive number of officials. I had my Lord Steward, the Chamberlain, Treasurer and Controller and many more, including fourteen ladies, all of high birth and in the charge of the Countess
who ruled over us all and to whom I could always turn in moments of uncertainty.

I was forgetting my disappointment over the Emperor, although I could not entirely believe that he would not marry me. All the same, I was enjoying my new status. This was a miniature Court and I was learning to become a queen. I realized that I should enjoy that very much.

How different life had become from those long days of study under the guidance of Johannes Ludovicus Vives. The only thing lacking was the company of my mother. I thought of her often and used to say to myself: I wonder whether she sat here? Did she and Arthur walk along this path? It was long, long before I was born. It is hard when one is young to imagine a world without oneself.

Christmas came. It was a very merry one. I was at the center of the revelry. We had our Lord of Misrule and many masques and I led the dances.

The Countess said she was delighted that I was enjoying the fun. I had a faint impression, though, that she was keeping something from me, which brought a little uneasiness into the jollity; but in those first months at Ludlow I was a little intoxicated with my new power. I had learned that I cared passionately about my position. I had not known before how much I wanted to be a queen.

It was March when I heard the news.

The Countess told me.

“You never talk of the Emperor now as you used to,” she said.

“I think of him still,” I told her.

“But you now understand, don't you, that the betrothal was in truth a matter of state… and such are laid on flimsy foundations?”

“What do you want to tell me, Countess?”

She sighed. “Well, you have to know, but I believe it will not be such a shock as it might have been if you had not been warned. The Emperor has married Isabel of Portugal.”

I stared at her unbelievingly. Although it had been hinted that this marriage might take place, I had never expected that it would. He had been promised to me and I to him. How could he have married someone else?

The Countess was looking at me helplessly. “You were only six,” she reminded me, “and you only saw him for such a short time. It was all built up in your mind. You will see that when you look at it more clearly.”

“Yes,” I said, “it was all built up in my mind.”

I pretended not to care. But I did; and often, when I was alone in my bed, I shed tears for the perfidy of rulers, for the loss of my beliefs, for the fact that my childish innocence had gone forever.

THE EMPEROR'S MARRIAGE CAST A BLIGHT OVER MY LIFE for some weeks. I would wake in the morning and ask myself how he could have behaved so. It could not be that he had been forced to. No one could force emperors. He could do as he wished, just as my father could. And he had abandoned me.

I tried to console myself that it was simply because of my youth. Had I been as old as Isabel of Portugal, he would have married me.

I wished that I could see my mother. I thought of how sad she would be, for she had so wanted me to marry her nephew and live in Spain.

But it was not to be, and life at Ludlow was very pleasant because I had tasted power and found that I liked it very much.

It was soon brought home to me that happiness was a fleeting emotion.

The Countess came to me one day and with some hesitation made a revelation to me that I found quite horrific.

What a wonderful person she was. She thought of me at every turn, and I knew she would without hesitation put herself in danger for my sake. At the time, of course, I did not fully realize how precariously placed were those who had Plantagenet blood in their veins.

The Countess knew that she must step warily but she was not lacking in courage and would always do what she considered right, no matter what the risk. On this occasion I was sure she felt she must prepare me for what was to come.

She began: “You know, Princess, that the question of your marriage will be of considerable importance to your father. It is necessarily so because of your position.”

“Yes, I know that,” I said. “But what is the use of making engagements when no one really considers them seriously?”

“They are of importance when they are made.”

“To be honored only when people don't change their minds,” I remarked with some bitterness.

She put her arms round me as she sometimes did when we were alone. “My dearest, the difference in your and the Emperor's age was so great. You see, if you could have been married immediately…”

“I am glad we did not. If he could not be faithful…if he could not keep his promises…it was better as it is.”

She held me against her soothingly. Then she said, “There will be other arrangements.”

“I shall not regard them with any seriousness.”

“Well, you are young and it would be a year or two before any plans came to fruition.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Countess?” I asked. “Yes. But you must not take it seriously. It would never come to pass. It is just a gesture.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The King of France.”

I stared at her incredulously. The King of France! My father's enemy! The man who had been described to me as the most wicked in Europe. The man who had tried to humiliate my father at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. It was impossible to believe.

“But we were at war with him.”

“That is over. There is now peace, and our two countries are friends again. We are against the Emperor now.”

“Oh no…
no
!” I cried.

“You must not be upset. It will never come to anything. I did not want it to shock you. That is why I warn you. You should not be unduly alarmed. It will never happen.”

“I thought he was the Emperor's prisoner.”

“There has been a treaty between them … the Treaty of Madrid. François is free, but there are harsh terms. He is having to give up much land to the Emperor…Milan, Naples and Burgundy, I believe, among much else. In the meantime he has been allowed his freedom, but he has sent his two sons to Madrid as hostages.”

“And he has agreed to that?”

“His sons are there now.”

“How could he? They are only little boys.”

“It is necessary that he return to his country. It is all very complicated.”

“And my father would marry me to this man!”

“I doubt there is any serious intention of doing that. It is just a gesture to the Emperor. You see, no ruler likes to see another too powerful, and several states are forming a league against the Emperor now.”

“It's horrible,” I said. “I hate it.”

“It is the way states are governed.”

“I shall never govern that way.”

She smiled at me. “You will be a wise and benign ruler, I know. But, just now you must not be disturbed about this proposed alliance. I will be ready
to swear that nothing will come of it. There is another matter. One of the terms of the Treaty of Madrid is that François shall marry Charles' sister, Eleanora. He cannot evade his obligations because he has to think of his two hostage sons.”

“How old is the King of France, Countess?” I asked.

“About thirty-two.”

She did not add that most of those years had been spent in debauchery and that, coupled with the fact that he had been languishing in a Madrid prison where he had come near to death and probably would have died if his sister, Marguerite, had not gone out to nurse him, he would probably seem older than his years warranted.

The King of France! He haunted my dreams. I had never seen him but I had often pictured his dark, satanic face. I had heard it said that no woman was safe once he had cast his lecherous eyes on her. Could it really be that my father would contemplate marrying me to such a man?

Not only had I lost my hero, the Emperor, but there was a possibility that I should be thrown to this monster.

Just as I had thought I was growing up and having power was going to be a wonderful experience, the truth was borne home to me. I was a woman. I could be snatched from my home at any moment. I could be given to any husband who happened to be important in the game of politics. It was the fate of princesses.