“Most joyfully,” she answered.
“Do not think though that we have not your future at heart, dear sister. We have a dazzling proposition to put before you, for Monsieur de Longueville has brought us an offer from his master. What would you say if I were to tell you that within a few months you will be Queen of France?”
“Queen of France! But I do not understand …”
“Then let me explain. Louis XII, King of France, recently widowed, seeks a new bride. He has heard glowing accounts of your beauty and virtue and he offers you his hand and crown.”
She had turned pale; her blue eyes seemed suddenly dark.
Henry came and put an arm about her. “Dearest sister, you are astonished. It is indeed a dazzling prospect. Louis is our friend now; he has shown us who our enemies are. Not for you the pallid Prince of Castile with the mad mother, but the great King of France. You will be crowned in Paris. Mary, you cannot understand yet what honors are about to be laid at your feet.”
Still she did not speak. She could not believe it. It was a nightmare. She had longed so fervently for her freedom, had prayed so vehemently for it, and she must wake in a moment, for this simply could not be true.
“He is driving a bargain, this King of France,” went on Henry with a laugh. “Have no fear. I can provide you with a dowry rich enough to please even him. Mary, you will be the means of cementing this bond which friend Wolsey here agrees with me, is of the utmost importance to our country.”
She spoke then. “I won’t do it. I won’t. I have been tormented with the Prince of Castile. I’ll marry where I will.”
“Why, sweetheart,” said Henry, “when you have heard what this means, you will be as eager for this marriage as we are. Queen of France! Think of that.”
“I’ll not think of it. I do not want this marriage. I do not want to leave you and England.”
“There, my dearest sister, partings are sad, we know well. But you’ll not be far away. I shall visit you and you shall visit us. We shall be rivals in splendor, for when you come to see us I shall have made ready for your entertainment such masques …”
“Stop! Stop! I cannot bear it!”
She turned and ran from the room.
She lay on her bed; she did not weep; this was a matter too tragic for tears. She stared blankly before her and refused to eat.
Lady Guildford and those of her women who loved her—and many did, for impetuous and hot tempered as she could be, she was a generous and goodhearted mistress—were afraid for her.
Henry was perplexed. He had expected a little resistance but he had not thought she would be so unreasonable. Had she not seen similar situations rising around her? Margaret had had to go to Scotland to marry a man whom she had never seen. Her own father had married her mother that the houses of York and Lancaster should be united. Did she not understand that, for all their wealth and privilege, they themselves had their duty to perform?
He went to her room and sat by her bed. Gently he talked to her, pointing out her duty. He would have saved her from this marriage if he could, but the personal desires of Princes must always be set aside for matters of state.
She burst out: “He is fifty-two and I am eighteen. He has had two wives and I have never had a husband.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “So you hold against him the fact that he has had two wives. I did not think
They did not mention Brandon’s name, but she understood the reference; for had not Charles himself had two wives and was he not even now contracted to a third?
“He is ancient,” she cried. “He is ugly and I do not want him.”
“Sister, be calm. Be reasonable.”
“I hate him,” she cried.
“How can you hate one whom you have never seen?”
“Because he will be the means of taking me from all I love.”
And as she lay on her bed, suddenly the tears started to flow down her cheeks. She did not weep noisily, nor sob, but just lay quietly there; and the sight so unnerved Henry that he turned aside, blinking away his own tears.
I have indulged her over much, he thought. I have loved her so well. I shall miss her as she will miss me. By God, were it not that so much was at stake. I would give her Brandon just for the sake of seeing her happy.
Then another thought occurred to him. “Why, Mary,” he said, “your bridegroom, as you say, will be an old man. I hear that he suffers much from the gout.”
“And for these reasons should I be doubly glad to marry him?” she cried angrily.
He put his face close to hers and whispered: “Why yes, sweetheart. He lives but quietly, retiring to bed early; he eats frugally; it is necessary for his health. When he sees his young and beautiful bride he will be excited, depend upon it. He is in a fever of impatience to see you. I hear that in his youth he lived well and was very fond of women.”
“You do not make him any more attractive to me.”
“Do I not? That is because you stubbornly refuse to grasp my meaning. Sister, if you become the wife of the King of France and so serve your country, I do not think it will be long before you are the widow of the King of France.”
She caught her breath. “And then … ?” she asked.
