The Lady in the Tower Read Online Free Page A

land.
    Then it was our turn; but no gentlemen came for us. We must, with great difficulty, get into the little rowing boats and ride the waves again.
    But at last the ordeal was over. We had arrived.
    It had been a terrifying experience.

    The Princess Mary was in fact already the Queen of France, for the proxy ceremony had taken place at Greenwich (with the Duc de Longueville standing in for the King of France; and in France with the Earl of Worcester incongruously taking the place of Mary) but we had been apt to think of her still as our Princess and should do so until the ceremony had been performed between her and King Louis. This was due to take place in two days’ time.
    The day after our arrival we were to make the journey to Abbeville where the King would be waiting to greet his bride.
    It was amazing how quickly we recovered from our ordeal. Few would have recognized the bedraggled creatures who had come ashore in those rowing boats as the dazzling company who prepared to journey with the new Queen to meet her bridegroom.
    I had thought a great deal about her and how tragic it was for one so beautiful to be sent to a loveless marriage, particularly when—as I had gathered—her love was for someone else. Had I been older, with more knowledge of human nature as I was to come to know it later, I should have felt less sympathy perhaps. It was true that Mary was in love with Suffolk, and Mary, being a Tudor, was subject to intense emotions, loving and hating more violently than most people; it was true that she was being forced into a marriage with an old man who might be repulsive to her, but Mary's nature was such as would enable her to exploit any situation to her advantage and emerge from it unscathed and with the determination to have her own way in the end. As indeed it proved for her.
    How beautiful she looked in white cloth of silver with a jeweled coif on her lovely hair; her skin was smooth and pink like her brother's. I envied her fairness.
    Our clothes, which had been carefully chosen for this occasion, had been safely brought ashore—for which we were thankful—and our dresses were of crimson velvet. I was glad of this for it was a color which was most becoming to my dark hair and eyes. I noticed one or two ladies glance at me; they said nothing, but I could see by their looks that they were reluctantly admiring me, which pleased me very much.
    The King had sent over horsemen and archers to accompany us—a gentle reminder, no doubt, of our fighting strength, even though, through this marriage, we were the friendliest of neighbors.
    We were just leaving Boulogne when a party of horsemen rode up. At the head of them was one of the most striking looking men I had ever seen. He was tall—as tall as the King of England—and one rarely saw men as tall; but where Henry was dazzlingly fair this man was dark. Hewas dressed with extreme elegance and here and there a jewel gleamed about his person to suggest good taste rather than ostentation. Oddly enough, the first moment I saw him, I found myself making comparisons with the King of England.
    He was clearly a person of high rank. This was obvious by the attitude of those about him. I quickly learned his identity. He was François de Valois, Comte d'Angoulême and the Dauphin of France. I had heard of him, for Simonette had often talked to me of her country. If old Louis did not get sons, François would be King of France.
    I wondered how François felt to see this lovely young girl coming into his country to marry the King. If the marriage should be fruitful, it would be the end of François's hopes.
    There was something secretly sly about him, I thought, though his manners were as exquisite as his garments. He leaped from his horse and bowed low as he took Mary's hand. His eyes surveyed her and he managed to convey a great deal by his expression, for if he had said he found her beautiful, charming, very exciting and completely desirable, it could not have been