Do not underestimate Charles, Lord Lisle. And you should warn the King of England not to.”
“I will do so, Your Highness.”
“I am sure you will. Tell me of England. I long to hear what the Court is like. I have heard it is quite brilliant since the young King came to power.”
He talked to her of the jousts and entertainments while she listened avidly.
And when he and the King’s gentlemen were in Henry’s bedchamber that night the King said: “Did you notice that the Archduchess seems mightily taken with our friend Charles Brandon?”
Compton had noticed it; he tittered, while Henry’s laughter burst out.
“Well, well, he’s a handsome fellow,
“Your Grace is joking. The lady was asking me about
“She had her eyes on me, but she said to herself ‘He’s well and truly married.’ So she turns to you. You know you are a little like me, Charles.”
“I have heard that said, Your Grace, and it has given me great pleasure. I fear I grow a little more vain every time it is repeated.”
Henry smiled affectionately at his friend. “Well, ’tis true enough. We might well be brothers, and I’d suspect we might be, but for the fact that my father was a man who never strayed from the marriage bed.”
“As was meet and fitting in so great a king,” murmured Charles.
Henry’s lip jutted out; he had found some of the women of this country tempting and, because he had assured himself that what he called a little gallantry was an essential part of a soldier’s life, he had succumbed to temptation. He did not like to be reminded of this.
“ ’Tis true,” he murmured, “that my father was a great King … in some ways.”
“He never had the people with him as Your Grace has,” Charles said quickly, realizing his mistake a few seconds before, and Henry’s expression was sunny again.
“The people like a king who is a man also,” he said. “They have a fancy for you, Charles … particularly the women. So ’tis small wonder that Margaret looks on you with favor.”
Henry changed the subject then, but he was thoughtful. His friends did not take Margaret of Savoy’s interest in Charles Brandon very seriously. The daughter of the mighty Emperor could scarcely marry an English nobleman whose only title was that which he had taken from his ward whom he had contracted to marry.
But why not? Henry asked himself. He could with the aid of a pen give his friend a title which would make him worthy … or almost. An Earldom? A Dukedom?
Henry was uneasy now that he had cast his eyes on the young Prince Charles, for reports would be quickly carried back to Mary of his unattractive looks; she might even rebel. He did not want trouble there. He loved that girl; she was like himself in so many ways and she had always been his favorite sister. She and he had stood together against Margaret, that elder sister who had often been critical of her bombastic brother. Mary had never been critical. She had always been the adoring child looking up to one who seemed all that a big brother should be. No, if Mary shed tears and pleaded with him, she’d unnerve him. He liked to see her merry. He had noticed the looks she had cast at Brandon. Why did the fellow have to have this attraction for women? Even Margaret of Savoy was not unmoved.
If he himself were not known as such a virtuous husband it would be the same with him. Charles had not that reputation. It was well known that he had been married twice already and was on the way to marrying again; and only he knew how many women there had been between, and doubtless he had lost count. It was a pity Elizabeth Grey was only a child. He would like to see Charles married, because he believed that if he were, Mary might come to her senses. While he remained free she could be capable of anything.
Why should not Margaret of Savoy marry a man who was well known as the King’s best friend and right hand man?
He sought an opportunity of speaking to Charles when they were alone together. As they strolled in the gardens he made it clear that he wished to be alone with Brandon, and putting his arm about Charles’s shoulders affectionately, said to him: “I did not joke when I spoke of you and Margaret, Charles. If you could persuade the lady, I’d put nothing in your way.”
“Your Grace!”
“I see no reason why there should not be a match between you. I have a fancy that when she marries again it will be to please herself. Max can’t dictate to a woman of her stature; and she has married for political reasons already. By God, she has an eye for you. Methought she could scarce keep her hands off you.” The King burst into loud laughter. “Why Charles, it would suit us well to have an Englishman like yourself become the son-in-law of his Imperial Highness.”
“What thinks Your Grace His Imperial Highness would say to such a match?”
“Let the lady win
Henry slackened his pace and others joined them. Charles felt bemused. Ambitious as he was he had never looked as high as this.
Those were weeks of feverish excitement. He had no doubt that Margaret was in love with him. And he? Margaret was a comfortable woman, genial, friendly, worldly-wise; she had much to attract him. He knew though that he would never cease to think of Mary. If he were a simple country gentleman and Mary his neighbor’s daughter, there would be no hesitation at all; they would be married by now. If she were a village girl, a serving maid, she would be his and he hers, for his passion, although not matching hers because he held it in check so much more easily than she could hers, was for her. But she was a princess and to love her could mean death to ambition, perhaps death itself.
On the other hand Margaret was personable, charming, eager to be loved.
So they danced together and much conversation passed between them; and he told himself, If I can win her hand I shall be almost a king. He would take his stand beside her in the governing of the Netherlands; and he would work wholeheartedly for the advancement of English affairs.
