Katharine of Aragon (64 page)

He followed Henry's thoughts. This was his sister Mary, his favorite sister who was gay and pretty; knowing how to flatter her brother she fostered his sentimentality towards her, and had lured him into a promise. “If I marry the King of France, when he is dead I shall marry whom I please.” And Henry knew who pleased her.

He wanted to comfort her now, to say: Look, little sister, you are a widow in a foreign land; so I am sending you a gift to cheer you. And the gift was Suffolk.

Henry was telling himself that Brandon was a worthy envoy; and as he was ardently courting the Duchess of Savoy, in these circumstances sending him would merely be a gesture; no harm could come of it. Mary would have enough sense to know that there must be no dalliance with Suffolk while she might be carrying the heir of France within her.

In any case Henry had made up his mind.

So must it be, thought Wolsey, who was not going to commit the folly of going against the King in this matter and mayhap through it lose control of other and more important affairs.

“If Your Grace is satisfied with Suffolk as your envoy to the Court of France, then so I am,” he said.

THE CARDINAL READ
the letter from Suffolk. He was gratified because the Duke had written to him. It indicated that this man understood that the one most likely to influence the King was Thomas Wolsey.

His Cardinal's hat had not yet arrived, but that was coming. He was growing more and more certain that one day he would gain the Papal crown; in the meantime he was content to govern England.

Suffolk had written that he and Mary had married.

Wolsey laughed aloud at the folly of the man. Then he thought of his own folly with Mistress Wynter, and his laughter faded a little.

But to marry with the Princess so soon after the death of her husband! Moreover, was Brandon in a position to marry? There were some who maintained that he was already married; and he had certainly been involved in matrimonial tangles with three other women. The first was Elizabeth Grey, daughter of the Viscount of Lisle, who had been made his ward and whom he had contracted to marry. This lady had refused to marry him and the patent was cancelled. Later he had contracted to marry a certain Ann Brown, but before the marriage was celebrated he obtained a dispensation and married a widow named Margaret Mortymer, who was a relative of his. When he was weary of this woman he acquired a declaration of invalidity from the Church on the grounds of consanguinity, and it was said that later he went through a form of marriage with Ann Brown by whom he had had a daughter. Certainly his past did not bear too close a scrutiny and it was questionable whether he was in a position to marry again. Yet such was his fascination that not only had he charmed Mary but to some extent Henry as well.

Wolsey read the letter:

“The Queen would never let me be in rest until I had granted her to be married; and so now, to be plain with you, I have married her heartily, and have lain with her in so much I fear me lest she be with child. I am like to be undone if the matter should come to the knowledge of the King, my master.”

He was asking Wolsey to break the news gently and to convey loving messages from Mary to Henry in the hope that he might be softened towards them and allow them to return home, which they longed to do.

Wolsey considered the matter. The King had provoked this situation. He had known how headstrong his sister was, and he had promised her that if she married Louis she should choose her next husband. Henry, Wolsey was sure, would feign anger at the news, but he would not be greatly disturbed. He loved his sister dearly and missed her, so would be glad to have her home. He missed Suffolk too, for that gay adventurer was one of the most amusing of his friends.

Therefore it was without much trepidation that Wolsey sought an audience and showed Henry the letter which he had received from Suffolk.

“By God's Holy mother!” ejaculated Henry. “So they are married—and she, like as not, with child. What if…”

“We should know, Your Grace, if the King of France was its father. I fear that is not so. Poor Louis, he could not get his wife with child.”

For a moment there was a deep silence, and to Wolsey's consternation he saw the healthy flush in the King's cheeks darken.

So, thought Wolsey, he is already beginning to wonder whether
he
is capable of begetting children. Is it so? One would have thought Elizabeth Blount might have shown some signs by now; and the Court was becoming
so accustomed to Katharine's failures that they expected her miscarriages before they occurred.

Wolsey said quickly: “The King of France was too old to beget children.”

The King breathed more easily. The danger was past, and Wolsey went on: “What are Your Grace's wishes in this matter?”

“I am deeply shocked,” said Henry. “Punishment there must be. I am displeased with them … both.”

But indeed he was not. He was already wishing they were at the Court. He indulged his pleasures so much that he put their gratification before matters of state. While Wolsey thought of the grand marriages which might have been arranged for Mary, Henry was thinking: Mary will be happy; and I shall be happy to have my sister with me again.

But as ever he was ready to listen to Wolsey's advice; and, when later Suffolk wrote to Henry begging to be allowed to come home and offering his body, knowing that he might be “put to death, imprisoned, or destroyed” for this great sin he had committed, Henry left it to Wolsey to suggest on what terms the erring couple might be allowed to return.

“Let them return to Your Grace the gift you made the Princess Mary of plate and jewels,” suggested Wolsey; “let Suffolk undertake to pay by yearly installments the expenses you incurred by the French marriage. Then it would seem that they had been adequately punished. All would know that none dares flout your Grace's wishes with impunity, and at the same time these two, for whom we all have great affection, could—after a short period—return to Court.”

Henry was delighted with the solution.

Once again he was realizing how much he could rely upon his dear friend Wolsey.

THAT YOUNG GAY AMORIST
, Francis of Angoulême, had leaped happily into the position which he and his family had coveted for himself for so long.

With what great joy he discovered that Mary Tudor was not with child; and, although he himself had cast lascivious eyes on this attractive English girl, the Suffolk marriage seemed a happy enough conclusion to that affair.

He was ambitious and energetic, and in the first weeks of his accession he was turning his eyes towards Italy.

It was during March of that year that a Venetian embassy arrived in England with the blessing of Francis.

The position of the Venetians in Europe was dictated by their trade. They were first and foremost traders and asked only to be allowed to continue to sell those goods for which they were famous. Since Maximilian had
captured Verona, he had proved a serious handicap to Venetian trade, and the people of Venice believed that an alliance with France would enable them to regain Verona; and as France was aware that her power in Lombardy depended on Venetian friendship there was a
rapprochement
between the two.

It seemed important to Venice that England should strengthen her alliance with France, which should have been cemented by the marriage between Louis XII and the Princess Mary; but with Louis dead and his widow already the wife of English Brandon it seemed necessary to send an embassy to England.

So on a sparkling March day the Venetian embassy arrived, having been entertained most lavishly on the way by the new King of France.

Henry was on his mettle. He believed that Francis would have made a great effort to impress the Venetians with his grandeur and elegance, and was determined to outdo the King of France whom he had always believed to be his especial rival ever since he had heard that Marguerite of Angoulême— who had once been suggested as a bride for Henry—had declared her brother to be the handsomest, wittiest and most charming man in the world and one whom she would always love beyond any other.

So he was prepared. He was a sight so dazzling on that morning that even those who were accustomed to his splendor were astonished.

The Venetians had sailed up the Thames to Richmond in a barge which was gaily decorated with cloth of gold and silver. Before they entered the King's presence they were given bread and wine to sustain them, and then they were taken to the King's chapel to hear Mass.

When this was over they were led into the presence of the King. The Palace had been decorated to receive them, and gold and silver cloth and tapestries had been hung in each apartment. In these rooms three hundred halberdiers, wearing silver breast plates, stood at attention, in order to impress the newcomers with the might of England. They were astonished because the halberdiers, who were chosen for their height, towered above the little Venetians, their fresh faces glowing in striking contrast to the swarthy ones of the men of Venice.

Then to the King's chamber where Henry waited to receive them. He was standing when they entered, leaning against his throne. He wanted them to receive an immediate impression of his great height, which they could not do if he sat. Henry was indeed an impressive figure; his purple velvet mantle was lined with white satin, and fell behind him in a train four yards long; this mantle was fastened across his massive chest by a thick chain made entirely of gold; his doublet was of satin, crimson and white in color; and on his head was a cap of red velvet decorated with a white feather. About his neck was a gold collar with St. George picked out in fine diamonds; and below that
another collar from which hung a round diamond the size of a big walnut; and from this diamond hung a large flawless pearl.

The Venetians blinked. Francis had been elegantly splendid, but Henry was more colorfully so.

Henry was delighted with the impression he so obviously created; the blue eyes, under the red hair which was combed straight about his head, sparkled; he held out a hand, the fingers of which seemed entirely covered by dazzling gems.

Henry welcomed the newcomers warmly, telling them how happy he was to have them at his Court. They would be in need of refreshment, so he had a banquet prepared for them, and when they had eaten they should see the joust which Henry believed had been perfected by his countrymen.

The Venetians, overwhelmed by the friendliness and the hospitality of the King, were then graciously received by members of the King's Council at the head of whom was the new Cardinal Wolsey whom they well knew to be the most important man in the realm.

They met the Queen—herself gorgeously attired and glittering with jewels; but they had heard rumors of the King's feelings towards his wife and they did not believe her to have any real influence with him now.

Henry led the way to the banquet where he surrounded himself by the leaders of the embassy and delightedly watched their incredulity at the dishes produced by his cooks and the ability of the English to consume large quantities of food.

He had no intention of talking of state matters; that would come later with Wolsey; but he was eager to know whether the newcomers were comparing him with Francis in their minds.

He was soon asking questions about his great rival. “You have recently left the King of France; tell me, is he as tall as I am?”

“There can be very little difference in the height of the King of France and the King of England,” was the answer. “Your Grace is a big man; and so is Francis.”

“Is he a fat man, this young King of France?”

“No, Your Grace. He could not be called a fat man. Far from it. He is lean and lithe.”

“Lean and lithe.” Henry caressed his own plump thigh.

“What are his legs like?” demanded Henry.

The Venetians were puzzled; they looked at each other. What sort of legs had the King of France? To be truthful they had not taken particular note of his legs; but they recalled that they must be spare because of the leanness of the King's body.

“Spare legs, eh!” cried Henry. “Look at mine.” He held up his legs to display the fine calf, well shaped, firm, the leg of an athletic man. “Has he a leg like that, eh?”

The Venetians were certain that the King of France had not a leg like that.

Henry laughed, well pleased. Then he threw open his doublet. “Look at this thigh,” he said. “‘Tis every bit as firm and well shaped as my leg. Has the King of France a thigh like that?”

When the Venetians assured Henry that the thigh of the King of France could not be compared with the thigh of the King of England, he was delighted and felt full of affection towards them and Francis.

“Methinks,” he said, “I am very fond of this King of France.”

After the banquet Henry retired to prepare himself for the joust; and later this was held in the Palace courtyard.

Henry excelled even his previous exploits on that day, shivering many a lance; which was as it should be; and one by one his opponents went down before him.

He was extremely happy.

When he joined the Venetians to be congratulated he said: “I should like to joust with the King of France as my opponent.”

But even as he spoke there was a shadow on his face. He was alarmed by this King on the other side of the water; he had heard so many tales of him, of his bravery, his wit and his lechery. He had scarcely been on the throne a week when he was talking of leading his armies to victory; and Henry had discovered that he himself had no great desire to place himself at the head of his armies.

What if he were to joust with Francis and Francis should win? Did Compton, Kingston and the rest go down before their King because they knew it was wise to do so?

“So,” he growled, “the King of France thinks to make war on Italy. He will cross the Alps. Will his people love him, think you, since he plunges them into a war at the very beginning of his reign?”

Then he was angry because he had longed to bring conquests to his people; and this he had failed to do. He burst out: “He is afraid of me. Why, were I to invade his kingdom he would not be able to cross the Alps into Italy, would he? So you see, all depends on me. If I invade France, Francis cannot make war on Italy. If I do not, he can. You see, my friends, in these hands I hold the future of France.”