the country will be in love with such a sovereign.
A cold fear crept into her mind. And where shall I be? How much longer can I hope to remain in England? Am I forgetting that, over the sea, a bridegroom is waiting for me? But not yet … not yet.
She was too much of a Tudor not to live in the moment.
Mourning for King Henry VII could not be expected to last long when there was a young handsome man waiting to put on the crown.
Hope was high throughout London and the country. There would be joy such as had never been known before; gone were the days of high taxation. He had shown his intentions by throwing Empson and Dudley—those notorious extortioners—into the Tower; he had proclaimed that many debtors to the crown would be excused. He made it clear that he wanted the old days of anxiety to be forgotten, that the merry era might begin without delay.
He rode through the streets, this golden boy, and often the Princess of Castile rode with him; he so handsome, she so lovely; and the crowds cheered themselves hoarse for these charming young people.
There was another who rode with the King, for he had decided after all to marry his brother’s widow, and this was a match which found favor with the people, for Katharine was known to be meek and serious by nature; the fact that she was a few years older than her bridegroom seemed favorable too. She will steady him, said the people. For he is gay and over merry, bless him. It will be good for him to have a serious wife.
So the days of mourning were quickly over, for how could the people mourn when they were about to see their King and Queen crowned?
On the eleventh of June—less than two months after his father’s death—Henry married Katharine and the coronation of the pair was arranged for the twenty-fourth of that month.
Mary, who was then three months past her thirteenth birthday, must of course take a prominent part in the celebrations.
What a joy it was to ride in the procession from the Tower to Westminster, to see Archbishop Warham anoint the head of her beloved brother.
His open face shining with delight, he looked magnificent in his robe of crimson velvet edged with white ermine which fell away from his massive shoulders. Beneath it his coat of cloth of gold was visible and he looked even bigger than usual because he sparkled with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. Katharine was beautiful too in her gown of white satin, and her lovely hair loose about her shoulders.
“Did you ever see one so handsome as the King?” asked Mary.
Then she saw who it was who was standing beside her. In his fine garments, worn in honor of the occasion, he was strikingly handsome himself.
“Never,” murmured Charles Brandon, smiling down at her.
She studied him speculatively, and pictured him in crimson velvet and ermine, and she thought: There
And she was suddenly very happy to be in a world which contained those two.
A coronation must be celebrated with appropriate entertainments, and Henry assured his subjects that because he must mourn his father he was not going to cheat them of their pleasures. They must look forward not back; and the glittering pageants they would witness should be symbols of the future.
At the banquets Mary found herself seated close to her brother and his wife; and where Henry was, there was his good friend Charles Brandon. In the dances which followed the feasting Mary often found herself partnered by this man, and was dissatisfied when he was not at her side; she was sure that he knew this and endeavored to remain with her.
When she was alone with her women she would do her best to bring his name into the conversation, for the next best thing to being with him was to talk of him.
“Charles Brandon,” said one of her women, “why, there is a man to avoid.”
“Why so?” demanded Mary.
“Because, my lady, he is one of the biggest rakes at Court.”
“Doubtless he is much pursued.”
“That is likely so. What a handsome fellow! And what a roving eye! I’ve heard it said there are secrets he would rather not have brought to Court.”
“There will always be slander against one so attractive.”
The woman raised her eyebrows and looked knowledgeable. Mary understood such looks and knew that she must curb her tongue lest in a short time the rumor went through the Court that the Lady Mary, who was no longer a child, was over-interested in Charles Brandon.
When she next danced with Charles she said to him: “Is it true that you are a rake and a philanderer?”
He laughed, and she laughed with him because she was always so happy in his company that everything seemed a matter for laughter.
“My lady,” he replied, “I never intended to live the life of a monk; although, by some accounts, it would seem that monks are not all we believe them to be.”
“And if the tongue of slander can touch them,” said Mary, “how much readily will it busy itself over one so … so …”
He stopped in the dance; it was only for a few seconds but to Mary it seemed for a long time, because that was the moment of understanding. She had betrayed her feeling, not only to him but to herself. A great exultation took possession of her and it was immediately followed by a terrible frustration; for how could that for which she longed ever be hers?
She loved Charles Brandon. More than any other person in the world, she loved him and she could only be completely happy in his company; but across the water a boy with a heavy jaw and sloppy mouth, heir to great dominions, was waiting until the time when he should be old enough to send for her as his bride.
In the ballroom, with this knowledge bursting upon her, she understood the tragedy which befell so many royal
