In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,121

of us. They have contrived to keep us apart. But now, praise God, right has prevailed.”

It was yet another facet of his personality that I almost believed him when I listened to him. I suppose I wanted to shut my eyes to the truth which should have been clear enough and to accept the verdict which was his alone. It was no use reasoning with such a man. He saw only one viewpoint—that which was made to fit his ideal of himself in order to keep that conscience of his in the chains he had forged for it to keep it in restraint.

He said to me one day, “Methinks I owe it to my people to marry again.”

I was alarmed. So he was contemplating taking another wife.

He nodded regretfully. “It is a duty, you know, daughter. A king should have many sons. I have Edward … and I have my good daughter…” He patted my knee affectionately, “… but I should give my people more sons.”

I could see that the cosy period was over. There would be another woman led to the sacrificial altar. I could tremble for her. Who would be brave enough to be the next?

“I am no longer young, Mary,” he went on. “This leg… this devil of a leg…you have no idea what I suffer.”

“I have, Your Majesty,” I replied. “And I am deeply sorry for the pain it causes you.”

He pressed my knee again. “I know, I know. It is a trial. I need a good woman…”

I was silent, fearing to speak lest I chose the wrong words.

“I need someone who will not plague me … someone not too young …” Thinking no doubt of that fresh, sensuous face of the girl who had been no coy virgin and had doubtless pleased him because of that for which she had been taken away from him—though I never believed that it was his will that she had been. Left to himself, he would have found some means to reinstate her, but her enemies had been astute enough to get the story circulated abroad. He could not have endured to think of François laughing at the poor old cuckolded King of England. “Yes,” he went on, “a mature woman … of good looks … experienced of life. No doll … a woman of some intellect… tender and loving…to be a comfort to me.”

“Where could such a woman be found, Your Majesty?”

“Ah, there you speak wisely. And mayhap I shall never find her.”

I guessed then that it would not be long before we had a new Queen.

THE NEWS CIRCULATED round the Court. The King was looking for a wife. This time, it was whispered, he would not have some foreign bride who was sent to him to strengthen a treaty, someone he had never seen before. He would choose her himself and by so doing make sure that he was not plagued further in his mature years.

I went to visit Anne. She was deeply disturbed.

“My brother is hoping that the King will take me back,” she said.

I stared at her. Could that be possible? In spite of the King's original revulsion for her, she was quite a good-looking woman. She no longer wore the hideous Dutch fashions which she had arrived in, and in our softer clothes she was almost handsome. Moreover the peaceful life she had been living agreed with her.

The King visited her now and then. He had made her his dear sister, and since she had ceased to be his wife he had grown quite fond of her.

Yes, I thought, she has reason to be afraid.

“I could not bear it,” she said to me. “I like so much my life here. I have my home…my income…my friends. I see Edward, and he is glad to see me… and my dear Elizabeth. To be with her makes me happy. I am not denied their company. I see you, my dear Mary. You are my friend. I have this family I have inherited. I do not want to go back to Cleves. I want to go on living here in my nice house with my nice servants… and my dear family close. I want no change.”

“Do you really think he might want to take you back as his wife?”

She looked alarmed and then, as though she were trying to convince herself, she said, “No … he did not like me when I came…Surely he cannot have changed. But I do know he likes to talk to me.