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particularly as he had such a long way to go before he grew up. “The French envoys will be coming over soon,” said the Countess, “and you know what this will mean.” “Yes. We are to leave Ludlow tomorrow.” “For Greenwich.” So that pleasant interlude was over. It had lasted for about eighteen months; but it was the last weeks which had been the most enjoyable, and that was due to the presence of Reginald Pole. 45 GREENWICH HAD ALWAYS BEEN of especial importance to me. I suppose the place where one was born always must be. My father was born there too. He loved it, and it was natural that he should choose it as the place where he would receive the French envoys who had come to draw up the terms of my betrothal to the Prince of France. My grandfather, King Henry VII, had enlarged the Palace and added a brick front to it where it faced the river. The tower in the park had been started some years before, and he finished it. My grandfather was a man who could never bear disorder. He was, I gathered, constantly anxious lest someone should take the throne from him, and I imagine he felt guilty for having snatched it from the Plantagenets. He was frequently trying to placate God, and at Greenwich he did this by building a convent adjoining the Palace and putting it at the disposal of the Grey Friars. Everything my father did must be bigger and better than others had achieved before, and when he came to the throne, loving Greenwich dearly as his birthplace, he enlarged it, and it was now more magnificent than it had ever been before. So it was not surprising that he, who always wished to impress foreigners with his grandeur—and none more than the French—should entertain their envoys at Greenwich. I was received with affection by him and my mother. My father, ebullient and boisterous, lifted me up as though I were a child and looked at me. He laughed, as though delighted with what he saw, and gave me a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Ah, you are fortunate, sweetheart,” he said. “You see how I plan for you? You are to have a grand marriage … as you deserve, I know full well. Such reports we have had from my Lady Salisbury. And now for the merrymaking.” My mother was quiet. The change in her gave me a sick feeling of fear. All was not well. I noticed the gray in her hair; she had put on weight—not healthily—and her skin was sallow. She smiled at me with great tenderness and I longed to comfort her. I sensed that something terrible was wrong, though there was no sign of this from my father. I learned that I was to take a major part in the revels for the French envoys, led by the Bishop of Tarbes, and I must be prepared. In my apartments, which I shared with the Countess, I was to continue with my studies. I must perfect my French because naturally I should have to converse in that language with the envoys. I must practice my dancing because I should be required to show them how proficient I was in that art. I had to remember that the French set great store on social grace and I must not be found lacking. I was in a strange mood. I might have been nervous; I certainly was a little resentful that I should be paraded to make sure I was worthy to be the wife of a boy younger than myself; but all these emotions were overshadowed by the fear for my mother's health. I mentioned to the Countess that she looked ill. “She has much on her mind, I doubt not,” said the Countess evasively. 46 There was a strange atmosphere at Court. I noticed whispering, silences, watchful eyes. I wished I knew what was going on, but no one would tell me. At length the envoys arrived. For weeks the banqueting hall at Greenwich had been in the process of refurbishing. Many workmen had been toiling at great speed that the work might be finished in time; there were to be such balls and banquets as never seen before. My father was noted for his extravagant displays, and this was to outshine all that had gone before. In spite of my fears for my mother and my apprehension on my own account, I could not help feeling a certain gratification that this was all done for me. The banqueting hall astonished all who beheld it. Much had been made of the theater which adjoined the great hall. The French regarded themselves as the great arbiters in the field of the Arts, so my father wished to astonish them with his taste for and appreciation of beauty. He had had silk carpets decorated with fleur-de-lys in gold laid on the floors; and on the ceiling were depicted the moon and stars. Perhaps less tact was shown in the banqueting hall, where there was a picture painted by Hans Holbein at the time of the battle of Thérouanne to celebrate my father's victory over the French, which I thought might dampen their joy in the fleur-de-lys. In this room I was to perform. Special masques were written for the occasion, and I had to rehearse them with the other ladies who would dance with me. I enjoyed dancing but there were certain matters which must be thrust to the back of my mind before I gave myself to pleasure. Besides my mother's melancholy, there was the real meaning behind all these lavish celebrations. After all, did I want to marry this little boy? I certainly did not, and it was consoling that he was so young. My marriage was in the future and, as I kept telling myself, such marriages rarely take place. In due course the envoys arrived. I went to meet them. I was very much aware of my father, beaming happily, but I had already noticed how quickly his moods of affectionate bonhomie could change, and I dreaded to see the frown come over his face and his eyes narrow to points of icy blue, and— most expressive of all—the mouth become a tight line. It was then one must beware. But all went well. I spoke my French fluently and the envoys were impressed. They paid me gracious compliments, and my father stood by, beaming benignly. All was well. I was passing the test. We sat down to dine. My father and mother were together at the great table which commanded a full view of the hall. I was at the center of another table with the French envoys and some ladies, all from the most noble families in the land. The feasting seemed to go on interminably, and all the time I must speak graciously in French, which somehow I contrived to everyone's satisfaction. The food was served on gold and silver plates. There was meat, fish and pies of all description and while we ate the musicians played soft music. When the banquet was over, the entertainment began. Children were brought in to sing and recite. There was a mock battle between righteousness and evil—righteousness 47 naturally victorious. I had slipped away, as arranged, to play my part. The curtain which divided the theater from the banqueting hall was drawn back to disclose a cave from which I emerged with seven ladies. We were all dressed in cloth of gold and crimson tinsel, with crimson hats covered in pearls and precious stones. As we came out of our cave, seven young gentlemen came out from another and we danced the ballet as we had practiced it. I am glad to say that everything went even better than it had at rehearsals. There was tremendous applause, and the company made it clear that they had been particularly enchanted by my performance. The meeting had been very satisfactory, and my father was pleased. That night I went to bed happy, flushed with my triumph. There were other entertainments, and always I was there, seated close to the French envoys. They were all very gallant to me and I was told that they were astonished by my beauty and my erudition. There was, however, one word of criticism. Turenne, the French ambassador, remarked that I was undoubtedly handsome and well endowed mentally, but I was spare, sparse and thin and would not be ready for marriage for at least three years. The Countess, when she heard of this, said with an air of “I told you so” that they had kept me at my desk too long and I had not had enough fresh air and exercise, because Johannes Ludovicus Vives had insisted and she had always been against it. I should be allowed a more normal life—a little more time for recreation in place of so many lessons. Perhaps she was right, but at least I had been able to converse and impress people with my erudition. At one entertainment my father led me in the dance and we performed the stately pavanne together. He treated me with great affection and showed everyone, as we danced, how fond he was of me. There was that about my father—and this was so later when much was not well between us—that made any show of affection from him warm the heart; he could banish resentments with a smile; it was this quality which made him what he was and later led him to believe that he could act in any way he pleased. So happily I danced with him, and that was one of the happiest occasions of the French visit. Something happened on that night. It was when the music was playing one of the dances that each gentleman asked the lady of his choice to dance with him. The rule was for the King to select his lady and the rest would follow. I had expected him to dance with my mother, but he did not. He had walked across the room and was standing before a girl. I had seen her at some of the revelries before. She was the sort of person whom one would notice. I cannot say what it was about her. She was not beautiful…at least not in the conventional way. But there was something distinctive about her. When I came to compare her with the other ladies, it seemed that there was a uniformity about them and often one could mistake one for another. That could never happen to this girl. No one else looked in the least like her. Her dark hair fell to her waist. Her enormous eyes were sparkling and luminous; her dress was not exactly in the fashion of the day and yet it was 48 more stylish. It had long hanging sleeves and there was a jewel on a band about her neck. I was even more struck by the grace with which she moved. I noticed that people watched her all the time. I believed they were whispering about her. I meant to ask someone who she was, but I had not done so at that stage. She seemed a little reluctant to dance but, of course, she could not refuse the King. The music was playing. The King took her hand, and the dance began. The French ambassador asked me to dance and we fell in behind the King and his partner. I WAS ALONE with my mother. Such occasions were rare and therefore very precious to me. She told me how proud she was of me. My father was pleased; the French were satisfied; they would carry back a good report of me to the King. She said suddenly, “The Emperor has become a father.” I stared at her. I felt my face harden. She went on, “He has a son…a little boy. He is to be called Philip after the Emperor's father. I wonder if he will be as handsome.” I was silent. I could not speak. My mother took my hand and gripped it. I saw the tears on her cheeks. “Dear Mother,” I began, dropping formality. I stood up and put my arms about her. It seemed as if that were the wrong thing to do, for the tears came faster. She said, “He has been married such a short time and already he has a son. Why cannot…? Why? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Why is God punishing me?” I said, “You have me…” Then she began to weep openly. “You mean more to me, my daughter, than any son could mean, except…except…You see, your father wants sons. Oh, you will have to know sooner or later. How much longer can it be kept from you?” “Tell me, Mother, tell me,” I begged. “But you are a child still…” “The envoys thought I was far from stupid.” She stroked my hair. “You are my clever daughter. I want you to know that I love you. It has been my great sorrow that we have had to be apart so often.” “I always understood,” I told her, kissing her hand. “Please tell me. Perhaps I can comfort you.” “Your father would be rid of me.” “But…no…how…?” “He seeks means. He says he is afraid our marriage is no true marriage and that is why I have been unable to give him sons.” “But you are the Queen…” 49 “You know I was married before.” “Yes, to Prince Arthur. Everyone knows.” “In the Bible it says that if a man marries his brother's widow the union shall be childless.” “But why…?” “It is said to be unclean. Again and again I have told him that I was never Arthur's wife in the true sense.” “And you are not childless. You have me… and there were others.” “You, my dearest, are the only one who survived and you are a girl.” “I see, he thinks God is punishing him for disobeying His Laws.” “I would never disobey God's Laws. I was never Arthur's wife. Your father is the only man I have known as a husband.” “You have told him that.” “A thousand times.” “Dearest Mother, do not grieve. Everyone will understand.” “Your father is determined. He says he must have a son…a legitimate son. And the only way he can do that is by ridding himself of me.” I was puzzled. It seemed impossible to me. My mother was the Queen. My father was married to her, so how could he marry someone else in order to get a son? I said, “I know he wants a son. All rulers do. They despise our sex. It is very sad. But my father is married to you and if it is God's will that he shall not have a son, there is nothing he can do about it.” “Kings are very powerful, daughter.” “But…he is married…” “Marriages are, in some circumstances, set aside.” “Set aside!” “A dispensation from the Pope…” “But even the Pope cannot go against the Holy Laws of the Church.” She said, “We shall fight for our place. I will fight … and it will be mainly for you.” “For me?” “Oh, I forget your youth. You make me forget it, daughter, because you are so serious and I am so distraught.” “Dearest Mother, I do understand. I know how you have suffered for a long time.” “You knew that?” 50 “I have seen it in your face… because I love you so much.” “My poor child. I will fight for your position as well as for my own, for you see, if this terrible thing came to pass, you would no longer be the Princess of Wales.” “But I am the Princess of Wales. I am the King's daughter…” “It is hard to explain. If the King were to prove that his marriage to me was no true marriage, although we have lived for all those years as husband and wife, in the eyes of the Church our marriage would be no true marriage and therefore our child would not be the legitimate heir to the throne.” As the enormity of this swept over me, I felt deeply shocked. “That could never be,” I said. My mother answered, “We must see that it never comes to pass.” We sat for a long time, I at her feet clinging to her hands. We were silent, she no doubt brooding on the past years, perhaps remembering the happiness she had enjoyed with my father during the first years of their marriage and I shocked and bewildered by the sudden realization of what had been going on for so long. It was the reason for my mother's sadness, the silences of the Countess. They had believed me too young at eleven to understand that which could have had a devastating effect on my future. I was afraid of the future; I was afraid of my powerful father. Young as I was I knew that my fate, and that of my mother, was in the hands of a ruthless man. Yet, I was glad that at last I knew what it was all about. REGINALD HAD COME to Court with us from Ludlow and I had an opportunity of talking to him. I said bluntly, “I know now what has been troubling my mother for so long. My father fears theirs is no true marriage. You know of it, I suppose.” “Yes,” he answered. “I dareswear everyone at Court knows of it.” “Many do,” he admitted, “although it is known as the King's Secret Matter.” “What will happen?” I asked. “What can happen? Your father is married to the Queen. There is an end of it.” “But if the marriage was no true marriage…?” “It was a true marriage.” “My father thinks that, because my mother was married before to his brother Arthur, it was against the laws of Holy Church that he and she should marry.” “It has taken him a long time to come to this decision.” “It has been brought to him because God has denied him sons.” 51 “There could be a number of reasons for that.” “But he thinks it is because he married his brother's widow.” Reginald shook his head. “My mother prays for a son,” I went on. “If only she could have one, all would be well.” Reginald looked at me sadly. “My dear Princess,” he said, “you are too young to bother your head with such matters.” “But they concern me,” I pointed out. “You are thinking of your right to the throne. If your father does not have a son, you will be Queen one day. Would that mean so much to you?” I hesitated. I was remembering the months at Ludlow where I had had my own little Court. Power. Yes, there was an intoxication about it. It would be my right to follow my father, to rule the country… unless there was a brother to replace me. “I see,” he said, “that ambition has already cast its spell over you.” “Are you not ambitious, Reginald?” He was silent for a while. “I think we all have the seeds of ambition in us,” he said at length. “Some might have ambition to possess a crown; others for a peaceful life. It is all ambition in a way.” “You could advance high in the Church.” “I am not sure that I want that. I want to see the world…to learn. There is so much to be discovered. When you are older, you will understand. And now … do not grieve. This will pass, I am sure. Your father is restive. Men sometimes are at certain periods of their lives. He is disappointed because he has no son. He looks around for reasons. This will pass. It must pass. The Pope will never grant him what he wants. There is the Emperor Charles to be considered.” “Why the Emperor?” He said gently, “The Emperor is the Queen's nephew. He would never agree that your mother should be set aside. It would be an insult to Spain. The Emperor is the most powerful man in Europe… and his recent successes have made him more important than ever. The sons of the King of France are his hostages.” “My bridegroom is one of them.” “Oh, these treaties, these marriages! They hardly ever come to anything when they are between children.” “You comfort me, Reginald.” “That is what I shall always do if it is in my power.” He stooped and kissed my forehead. I was thankful for Reginald. THE ONLY BRIGHTNESS during that anxious time was due to his presence and the fact that I was under the same roof as my mother. 52 She and the Countess were often together; they had always been the best of friends. They were often in deep conversation, and I was sure my mother was completely frank with the Countess, for she trusted her absolutely. I had grown up considerably since leaving Ludlow; and when I was in that pleasant spot I had emerged from my childhood to get a notion of what it really meant to rule. But to be plunged into this tragedy which surrounded my mother had brought a new seriousness into my life. I wished that I knew more. It is frustrating to be on the edge of great events and to be afforded only the sort of view one would get by looking through a keyhole. Reginald was often with us, and the four of us would be alone together—my mother, the Countess, Reginald and myself. I am sure that both the Countess and her son did a great deal to sustain my mother, but there was little anyone could do to lift the menacing threat which hung over her. She had suffered neglect and poverty after Prince Arthur's death, when her father did not want her to return to Spain and my grandfather did not want her in England. For seven years she had lived thus until my father had gallantly and romantically married her. I think she feared that she would be forced into a similar position to that which she had suffered before, if the King, my father, deserted her. She had great determination. She was going to fight…if not for herself, for me, because my fate was so wrapped up in hers. She was pleased to see my friendship with Reginald, and it suddenly occurred to me that she and the Countess would be happy to see a marriage between us. Instinctively I knew it was a subject often discussed between them. I was excited by this prospect. How wonderful it would be to marry someone one knew, rather than to be shipped off to some hitherto unseen prince because of a clause in a treaty. I began to think how happy I could be with Reginald. I was eleven years old. He was twenty-seven or -eight. That was a big difference but we were good friends and could be more, for I, brought up on the rules of Vives, was more learned than most people of my age and there had been a rapport between myself and Reginald from the start. It was not so incongruous as it might seem. He was a royal Plantagenet, and if I were to be Queen one day he would be King. The people would like to see the two Houses joined. That was always a stabilizing factor. It would be like the alliance of the Houses of Tudor and York, when my grandfather Henry VII had married Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV, thus putting an end to the Wars of the Roses. It was a wonderful, comforting thought during those months. I was often present when the Countess and my mother talked together. I think they had come to the conclusion that now I was aware of the King's Secret Matter, it might not be harmful for me to know more of it, for, after all, I was deeply involved in it. Thus it was that I learned of those farcical proceedings when my father had been summoned to York Place where the Cardinal lived in sumptuous splendor. 53 There the King had allowed himself to be charged with immorality because he was living with a woman who was not, in the eyes of the Church, his wife. The idea of my father's being summoned anywhere by his subjects was ludicrous. But meekly he had gone; humbly he had listened to their accusations—which, of course, he had ordered them to make. Archbishop Warham had presided. “John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, was present,” said the Countess. “I have always held him to be one of the most saintly men I know.” “It was Doctor Wolman, I believe, who was making the case against the King,” added my mother. “And Doctor Bell was the King's Counsel,” said the Countess. She added scornfully, “I can imagine it. ‘Henry, King of England, you are called into this archiepiscopal court to answer a charge of living in sin with your brother's wife.'” “It is so false. It is so untrue!” burst out my mother. “I was never Arthur's wife in truth.” They seemed to have forgotten my presence, and I sat there quietly, trying to efface myself lest they should remember me and cease to talk so frankly. I could imagine it all… that scene with my father looking shocked and anxious. It was a grave charge which they were bringing against him. If he had not wished it to be made, those who made it would have doubtless lost their heads by now. The case for the validity of the marriage was that, on account of Arthur's health, the marriage had not been consummated. Pope Julius II had given a dispensation, and the King had innocently believed that all was in order. “And now the Bishop of Tarbes has said this monstrous thing …” said my mother. She looked at me and stopped, and the Countess abruptly changed the subect. But they had aroused my suspicions. I must discover what the Bishop of Tarbes had suggested. They were subdued after that, and their conversation was constrained. I knew I was ignorant of a great deal regarding this matter. But after a while they could not resist the temptation to talk of it, and then they seemed to forget my presence. The Countess said, “Archbishop Warham is an old man. Old men seek comfort. He wants to live peacefully in his old age. He will agree with all the King wishes him to.” “And we know what that is,” said my mother tragically. “Warham declares that, if the marriage with Arthur was consummated, you were truly his wife and therefore the King has married his brother's widow.” “It was not. It was not. I tell all it was not. I was a virgin when I married the King.” “John Fisher is an honest man. He declared that the Pope had given the dispensation so that the King could suppress his fears. He had no doubt that his marriage was a good one. There was a Bull from the Pope to legalize it. There was no need for the 54 King to question the validity.” The Countess looked at my mother with the utmost sympathy and, seeking to comfort her, went on, “The King spoke so well of you. He said that through the years of your marriage he had found in you all he could hope for in a wife.” “Save this one thing,” said my mother, “and that of the greatest importance.” “It is only the suggestion of the Bishop of Tarbes …” She paused. Then she went on, “We know differently. It is not an unusual occurrence. It is just that this is the King…” “And his need for sons.” “He said that, if he had to marry again and if it were not a sin to choose you, you are the one he would marry. He would select you among all others.” “Words,” said my mother bitterly. #x201C;Words hiding the truth.” They were silent again. The the Countess said briskly, “Well, they have settled nothing.” “I believe the King is very disappointed with them. He greatly desired the matter to be settled.” The Countess took my mother's hand and held it firmly. “It cannot be,” she said. “The good men of the Church would never allow it… nor would the people.” “I think you underestimate the determination of the King,” said my mother sadly. I sat there quietly watching them. I knew this was by no means an end of the matter. IÑIGO DE MENDOZA, the Spanish ambassador, called to see my mother and was with her for a long time. The Countess was silent and withdrawn. It was no use trying to get her to talk. I wished that they would not leave me so much in the dark. They were thinking that I was too young to understand. I chafed against my youth. My future was involved. I should know. This matter concerned me. And I was determined to find out all I could. In time I learned what was said to have aroused the trouble. It had come about during the betrothal celebrations. The Bishop of Tarbes had said that, since the King was questioning the validity of his marriage to the Queen, did that not throw some doubts on my legitimacy? The King of France was very ready to agree to a proposed marriage between his son and me if I were Princess of Wales. But how would he feel if I were an illegitimate daughter of the King? Henry Fitzroy would be heir to the throne if he were legitimate—as a bastard he could never be that. And now some people—including my own father—were attempting to prove that I was in like case. My father lived in fear of offending God by living with a woman who was not in 55 His eyes his wife. My father was emphatic. He could have accepted the judgement of the Bishop of Rochester but he did not. He had his reasons. It was the first time I had heard the name of Anne Boleyn. WHILE THIS WAS GOING on, a terrible event took place which was to shock the world for years to come. It was the sacking of the City of Rome. Everyone was talking about it. Tales of horror were on every lip. It was incredible that such terrible deeds could be perpetrated by man. Reginald talked to me about it. As a deeply religious man, he was much affected. “There has never been such a tragedy in the history of the world,” he said. “It was the Constable of Bourbon's men.” “The French…” “No. No. Bourbon was on the side of the Emperor. Bourbon and François had been warring together for years, and Bourbon was fighting with the Emperor.” “So the Emperor's allies did this terrible thing.” “The Emperor would never have agreed to it. Nor would Bourbon himself if he had been alive. He was killed at the beginning of the affray. Had he not been, he would have controlled the rough soldiery, I doubt not. No man of education would ever have allowed that to happen. It is a blot on Christendom. I do believe Bourbon had no wish to attack Rome, but his men were unpaid, they had marched for miles and they were hungry. There was only one way to retrieve something from the campaign: loot. And where could they find it in more abundance than in the City of Rome? They stormed the city. There was no defense. They decimated the churches, they stole rich ornaments. They were all determined to make up for their months of hardship, lack of spoils, lack of food.” It was hard for a girl of eleven to understand all the horrors which took place during those fearful five days when the soldiers pillaged Rome. I heard later of the terrible happenings. The nuns, hoping their robes would protect them, were seized at the altars where they knelt in prayer and were lewdly stripped of their robes and raped in the most horrible manner. Drunken soldiers roamed the streets. There were mock processions in the churches. The fact that foul deeds were performed in holy places had lent a fillip to the disgusting behavior of these wicked men. They brought prostitutes into the churches. They mocked God, the Pope and all Rome stood for. Pope Clement VII had escaped to Castel Sant' Angelo with thirteen of the cardinals. There he was safe from the mob. But he was at the mercy of the Emperor, and my father was seeking papal help in annulling his marriage. The Emperor would never allow the Pope to help my father divorce his wife. So the Sack of Rome had a special significance for the King. WHEN I HEARD the name of Anne Boleyn, I determined to find out all I could 56 about her. There was no doubt that she was the most attractive woman at Court. Before I had known what part she was going to play in our lives, I had noticed her. She dazzled. She had all the arts of seduction at her fingertips. Brought up in France, there was a foreignness about her which I suppose some men found attractive. Her magnificent dark hair and her big, luminous eyes were her great beauty, but everything about her was arresting. It was clear that she paid great attention to her dress. I heard she designed her own clothes. The outstanding feature of her elegant gowns was the hanging sleeves which hid the deformity on one of her fingers. Her enemies used to say that she had a mark on her neck which few had seen because it was always covered by a jeweled band. It marked her as a witch, they said. I was not sure about that, but there were times, when my hatred for her was at its height, when I made myself believe it. She had come from the Court of France whither she had gone when a child in the train of my Aunt Mary Tudor who went there to marry the ageing Louis XII. She had not returned until soon after the occasion of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, on account of the rapidly deteriorating relations between France and England. She was then to marry Piers Butler because there was some dispute in the Boleyn family about a title, and the marriage of Anne to the son of the Butlers had been arranged to settle the matter. My father must have been aware of her at that time, for the proposed marriage was mysteriously prevented. I could not believe that at that time he thought of marrying her. The suggestion would have been too preposterous. I was shocked to hear that Mary Boleyn, Anne's sister, had been my father's mistress for some time. These rumors of his philanderings upset me very much when I first heard of them. Now I know that that is the way of men. Well, Mary Boleyn was his mistress and I suppose that at the time of Anne's return to England the King became aware of her and decided to replace one sister with another. I heard, too, about the passionate love between Anne and young Henry Percy, the eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, and how they planned to marry. That would have been a very good match for Mistress Anne Boleyn, for although her father had received many honors, largely because of the favor the King showed to Mary Boleyn, and Anne's mother was a Howard of the great Norfolk family, her father had his roots in trade. There was some story of an ancestor's being a merchant. True, he had acquired a title and become Lord Mayor, but still trade. Anne no doubt thought all was set fair. She had been so much in love with Percy, people said. As for Percy, he was besotted. People used to marvel at her devotion to him, because he was not a heroic sort of young man but rather weak. That he adored her was not surprising but her genuine love for him was amazing, for they said it was not due to the great title he would one day inherit. I grew to hate her so much that I could not see any good in her; but later on, when her terrible fate overtook her, my bitterness diminished a little and I often thought that, if she had been allowed to marry Percy, she could have been a happy wife and mother and much anguish spared to many. My father, by this time, was beginning to be deeply enamoured of her and ordered 57 Wolsey to prevent the marriage with Percy going ahead. Young Henry Percy was humiliated by the Cardinal, and the Earl of Northumberland was sent for. He came to London and berated his son for his folly. Henry Percy was banished to Northumberland, and Anne Boleyn to Hever. I could imagine her grief and anger. She would be passionate in her emotion, although at the time she would not have known that the breaking up of their match had been due to the effect she was having on the King and that he was forming plans for her. She thought it was because she was not considered of noble enough breeding to mate with the mighty House of Northumberland, which had deeply wounded her dignity. The rest of the story is well known: her return to Court at the instigation of the King, a place in my mother's household as one of her ladies-inwaiting, where she could grace the Court with her special talents of dancing, singing and writing masques with the young poets of the Court, most of whom were her slaves. She was one of those women who I believe are called a Yüklə 2,31 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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