I tried to console myself that it was simply because of my youth. Had I been as old as Isabel of Portugal, he would have married me.

I wished that I could see my mother. I thought of how sad she would be, for she had so wanted me to marry her nephew and live in Spain.

But it was not to be, and life at Ludlow was very pleasant because I had tasted power and found that I liked it very much.

It was soon brought home to me that happiness was a fleeting emotion.

The Countess came to me one day and with some hesitation made a revelation to me that I found quite horrific.

What a wonderful person she was. She thought of me at every turn, and I knew she would without hesitation put herself in danger for my sake. At the time, of course, I did not fully realize how precariously placed were those who had Plantagenet blood in their veins.

The Countess knew that she must step warily but she was not lacking in courage and would always do what she considered right, no matter what the risk. On this occasion I was sure she felt she must prepare me for what was to come.

She began: “You know, Princess, that the question of your marriage will be of considerable importance to your father. It is necessarily so because of your position.”

“Yes, I know that,” I said. “But what is the use of making engagements when no one really considers them seriously?”

“They are of importance when they are made.”

“To be honored only when people don't change their minds,” I remarked with some bitterness.

She put her arms round me as she sometimes did when we were alone. “My dearest, the difference in your and the Emperor's age was so great. You see, if you could have been married immediately…”

“I am glad we did not. If he could not be faithful…if he could not keep his promises…it was better as it is.”

She held me against her soothingly. Then she said, “There will be other arrangements.”

“I shall not regard them with any seriousness.”

“Well, you are young and it would be a year or two before any plans came to fruition.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Countess?” I asked. “Yes. But you must not take it seriously. It would never come to pass. It is just a gesture.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The King of France.”

I stared at her incredulously. The King of France! My father's enemy! The man who had been described to me as the most wicked in Europe. The man who had tried to humiliate my father at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. It was impossible to believe.

“But we were at war with him.”

“That is over. There is now peace, and our two countries are friends again. We are against the Emperor now.”

“Oh no… no!” I cried.

“You must not be upset. It will never come to anything. I did not want it to shock you. That is why I warn you. You should not be unduly alarmed. It will never happen.”

“I thought he was the Emperor's prisoner.”

“There has been a treaty between them … the Treaty of Madrid. François is free, but there are harsh terms. He is having to give up much land to the Emperor…Milan, Naples and Burgundy, I believe, among much else. In the meantime he has been allowed his freedom, but he has sent his two sons to Madrid as hostages.”

“And he has agreed to that?”

“His sons are there now.”

“How could he? They are only little boys.”

“It is necessary that he return to his country. It is all very complicated.”

“And my father would marry me to this man!”

“I doubt there is any serious intention of doing that. It is just a gesture to the Emperor. You see, no ruler likes to see another too powerful, and several states are forming a league against the Emperor now.”

“It's horrible,” I said. “I hate it.”

“It is the way states are governed.”

“I shall never govern that way.”

She smiled at me. “You will be a wise and benign ruler, I know. But, just now you must not be disturbed about this proposed alliance. I will be ready to swear that nothing will come of it. There is another matter. One of the terms of the Treaty of Madrid is that François shall marry Charles' sister, Eleanora. He cannot evade his obligations because he has to think of his two hostage sons.”

“How old is the King of France, Countess?” I asked.

“About thirty-two.”

She did not add that most of those years had been spent in debauchery and that, coupled with the fact that he had been languishing in a Madrid prison where he had come near to death and probably would have died if his sister, Marguerite, had not gone out to nurse him, he would probably seem older than his years warranted.

The King of France! He haunted my dreams. I had never seen him but I had often pictured his dark, satanic face. I had heard it said that no woman was safe once he had cast his lecherous eyes on her. Could it really be that my father would contemplate marrying me to such a man?

Not only had I lost my hero, the Emperor, but there was a possibility that I should be thrown to this monster.

Just as I had thought I was growing up and having power was going to be a wonderful experience, the truth was borne home to me. I was a woman. I could be snatched from my home at any moment. I could be given to any husband who happened to be important in the game of politics. It was the fate of princesses.

I lived in trepidation of the arrival of messengers from Court, demanding my presence that I might be betrothed to the fearsome and terrifying King of France.


* * *

THE DAYS BEGAN to pass and no one came to Court. The Countess said that it was such an absurd proposition that no one could take it seriously. I could rest assured that it was just an attempt to show the kindly feelings of England to a recent enemy.

My status at Ludlow had made me more interested in politics. But perhaps that was just because I was growing up. I should have liked to hear more of what was happening among the states of Europe than what occurred in the ancient Roman Empire. I had had a taste of authority and had seen how possible it was that one day I should rule England. My mother was now past childbearing and there was no one but myself; and the fact that I had been made Princess of Wales and given my own little Court at Ludlow was surely significant.

The defection of the Emperor had made me more aware. I must thrust aside sentimentality. I must cease to dream of chivalry and romance. That was not for such as I was, and oddly enough I did not wish it to be different. My little taste of power had changed me. I felt a glow of satisfaction when I thought of the crown.

And then we had a visitor to Ludlow. The Countess brought him to me and said with great pride, “Your Highness, may I present you to my son?”

And there was Reginald Pole. I held out my hand; he took it and kissed it. He was very handsome and I liked him as soon as I saw him. He had a good face, and in spite of my growing cynicism, I very much wished to retain my belief in the triumph of goodness over evil. I warmed to him.

He was respectful but by no means subservient. I might be a Tudor but he was of the Plantagenet line, as royal as I—some would say more so.

He was of middle height and very slender, with a fair complexion, light brown hair and blueish gray eyes—a handsome man, but he had more than good looks. There was a nobility about him which came from within and colored his entire personality.

“Reginald has just returned from Padua, where he has been studying,” went on the Countess.

“Do you intend to stay here in England?” I asked.

“I am as yet unsure, Princess,” he replied. “So much depends on what happens.”

“The King received him with great pleasure,” the Countess told me.

“Yes,” agreed Reginald. “He was very gracious to me. I told him that I should doubtless go to the Carthusian Monastery at Sheen to continue my studies.”

During the next days I was in the company of Reginald Pole a good deal. Although he was many years older than I—about sixteen, I believe—we were drawn to each other. I was glad then that Johannes Ludovicus Vives had made me study as I did because I could see now that I astonished Reginald with my learning.

The Countess was delighted by our friendship, and I believe she contrived it so that we should often be alone together. He used to talk to me as though I were of his own age which flattered me considerably. In Reginald's company I forgot my disappointment at the Emperor's perfidy and the impending dread of a possible marriage with François Premier.

Reginald had a great admiration and love for my father, which delighted me; he was also deeply attached to my mother.

His conversation was erudite but never condescending, and I always felt elevated after my sessions with him. He was frank about the past and my family's accession to the throne. Reginald was the sort of man who would maintain the truth at all costs and have died rather than deny it. He gave me back my belief in mankind. I shall always be grateful to Reginald Pole because he came into my life when I was bewildered and needed to have my faith restored. While there were such men as he was, I could believe in the human race again and should always do so.

He talked about his grandfather, George, Duke of Clarence who had died in the Tower at the instigation, some thought, of his brother King Edward IV.

“Oh,” he said, “it is indeed dangerous to live close to the crown. You will always have to be on your guard, Princess.”

“I know that now.”

“One day you could be Queen of this country. You must be prepared.”