The boy’s picture, which Mary had come to loathe, had not lied; and he had changed little since it was painted. There were the prominent eyes and the heavy jaw, the mouth which did not close easily; there was the lank yellow hair, and the boy certainly seemed to have to concentrate with effort in order to follow the conversation.
And this was the greatest heir in Europe, the boy who would inherit the dominions of his Imperial grandfather Maximilian and his Spanish grandfather Ferdinand! The son of mad Juana!
Brandon’s indignation rose at the thought of Mary’s marriage.
Then he noticed that their hostess was smiling at him.
“My lord, Lisle,” she was saying in a soft and gentle voice, “it gives me great pleasure to welcome you to my Court.”
He took her hand and kissed it, and he fancied she lingered at his side just a little longer than was consistent with etiquette.
In the private apartment allotted to the King, Charles, with Compton, Parr and Boleyn, assisted at his toilet.
“The lady is not without charm,” commented Henry. “But the boy … ! It’s past my understanding how Max can feel so pleased with him.”
“He looks to be an oaf, Sire,” said Compton.
“Looks, man! He is. Did you notice how he stammered?”
“He has a great affection for his aunt and a respect for his grandfather,” added Thomas Boleyn.
“The boy’s in fear of his future, I’ll warrant,” said Henry. “He clings to auntie’s skirts, wanting to stay the baby forever. Ah! Has it occurred to you that Max won’t last long? He’s getting old. Ferdinand’s getting old. Then that boy will be one of the greatest rulers in Europe. Louis is no longer young; I hear he suffers from the gout and diverse ailments. But he’ll be of no account because France will be ours. That’ll put the long nose of that Dauphin of his out of joint. Dauphin! I tell you this, Francis of Angouleme will never mount the throne of France. There’ll be two monarchs standing astride the continent. The oaf and myself. I tell you, my friends, that gives me cause for great pleasure.”
“Your Highness will do with him what you will,” cooed Compton.
“So this is a happy day for me to see that young fellow with no more brains than an ass.”
“I am sorry for the Princess Mary.” Charles realized that he should not have spoken.
He had broken in on Henry’s pleasant reverie because he had reminded him of the Princess’s passionate pleas; and as Henry was fond of Mary, his pleasure in the apparent stupidity of Charles was spoiled by the reminder that his sister must marry the boy.
He frowned. “’Tis the fate of princesses to marry for reasons of State.” Then his jaw jutted out and he continued coldly: “Methinks, my lord Lisle, you concern yourself overmuch with this matter.”
It was a warning.
Margaret of Savoy having been twice widowed was no coy virgin and she was young enough to think now and then of another marriage, although her experiences of matrimony had scarcely been comforting. When she was three she had been betrothed to Charles VIII and sent to Amboise to be brought up to be Queen of France. But in order to link France with Brittany the marriage had been repudiated and Margaret sent back to Maximilian while Charles made a match with Anne of Brittany.
Later she had married the Infante of Spain, only to lose him and their child within a short time of their wedding. And after that she had married the Duke of Savoy, uncle of Francois, who was now Dauphin of France.
Her marriages seemed doomed not to last, for he too was dead and she once more a widow.
But she assured herself that did not mean that one day she might not find a husband with whom she could live in peace and pleasure. I have married for political reasons, she told herself; why should I not now marry to please myself?
When had this thought come to her? Was it when she had welcomed the King of England to her Court and found that his close friend was one of the most handsome men she had ever set eyes on? Before his coming she had been eager to meet him because her agent at the camp of Therouanne, Philippe de Bregilles, had written to her of Charles Brandon. “Lord Lisle,” he had written, “is a man who should interest Your Grace, for he is at the right hand of the King; and it is clear that Henry listens to what he has to say.”
And now he had come to her Court she found him the most interesting member of the party.
It was not difficult to arrange that she should be next to him at table or in the dance; she began by pretending that she wanted to question him about the Princess Mary.
“I ask
“The Princess Mary is deemed to be the loveliest lady at the English Court, and reports do not lie,” Brandon told her.
“Then I am glad. But tell me, is she gentle and kind? You have seen my Charles? He will be gentle and a little shy at first. I hope the Princess will be ready to discover his excellent qualities which are not apparent to all at first.”
“I am sure the Princess will be patient.”
“Tell me, is she eager to come to him?”
Charles hesitated. “She is young … she is uncertain. She loves her home and her brother.”
“Poor child! Life is difficult for royal princesses. I remember my own fate.”
“It has made Your Highness tolerant?”
“I try to be. I am so anxious for the boy to be happy. He is a good boy and he will be a great prince. You do not believe me? Why, Lord Lisle, I had thought you would be a man to look below the surface. Charles is slow of speech because he does not speak without thought. Have you noticed that when he does say something it is worth saying?
