The Lady in the Tower Read Online Free Page B

more explicit than his looks.
    He addressed her in musical French, telling her of his great joy in her arrival. He was welcoming her to France and was proud to have the honor of escorting her to Abbeville.
    His glance traveled over the ladies. It even included me whom he must have found uninterestingly youthful. Then he rode beside Mary and we made our way to Abbeville.
    When we were within a short distance of the town a party of horsemen came riding toward us. They pulled up sharply and one of their number moved forward and came to the Princess. I guessed who he was, for the Dauphin had leaped from his horse, removed his cap, bowed his head and stood at attention. I noticed a slightly sardonic smile on his handsome face as he did so. Was he guessing that the bride was comparing the King of France with the Dauphin?
    The King looked small and insignificant beside François. His eyes were big and rather prominent; his neck was swollen—with some disease, I imagined; but there was something kindly about him and I liked him for that.
    He was looking at Mary and was, I believe, unaware of the rest of us.
    She sat there on her horse, glowingly healthy and beautiful—pink, white and gold and a little Tudor arrogance. She was very sure of herself and I fancy made a little happier by such obvious admiration.
    “The Dauphin has taken good care of you, I trust,” said the King.
    Mary replied in rather charmingly accented French that indeed he had and so had all since she had set foot in France.
    The King took her hand and kissed it. “They deceived me,” he said. “They just told me you were beautiful—but not how beautiful.”
    Mary replied that His Grace was too kind.
    The King said he had told his courtiers that he was going to hunt, but he had been unable to curb his impatience. He would now have to leave her; and he was going to let the Dauphin conduct her to Abbeville. Then she would know that the cheers of the crowd were for her alone.
    He rode off. François leaped into the saddle and brought his horse close to hers. It was obvious that he was attracted to her.
    And so we came into Abbeville.
    The next day they were married. My grandfather, the Duke of Norfolk, and the Marquis of Dorset rode with her to the Hôtel de la Gruthuse.
    I wondered what she was thinking of her sickly bridegroom with the bulging eyes and the swollen neck. Of course he had a crown to offer her. Did she think it was worth it? I knew she did not, for she yearned for the Duke of Suffolk. Everyone knew this, for she made no secret of it. I was glad it was not yet time for me to be married and I wondered who would be chosen for me. I would rebel if I did not like the choice. But then I was not royal. I was thankful that I should not be a clause in a treaty.
    The ceremony took place in the great hall of the Hôtel de la Gruthuse which had been made very grand for the occasion. Cloth of gold and silver with beautiful tapestries lined the walls; the glass windows had been designed to show pictures of the life of the town's saint, Wulfran; they threw a tinted light on the cloth of gold and silver, making it shimmer, which added a magical touch to all the elegant furniture which had been put into the room for this very special time.
    A canopy was held over the bride and one of the bearers of this was the Dauphin, the other the Duc d'Alençon, who was the husband of the Dauphin's sister Marguerite.
    Thus Mary Tudor became truly Queen of France.
    It was at this ceremony that I was first aware of the Princesse Claude, daughter of the King, for, to my amazement, I had heard that she was the wife of the fascinating Dauphin. What an incongruous pair! She was slightly deformed, had a limp and looked sickly. Her marriage had obviously been made by a treaty. François, the future King of France—providing Louis did not get a male heir—would naturally have to marry the daughter of the reigning King. It was all very neat, but I did wonder whatthe thoughts of Claude