Виктория Холт: The Lady in the Tower

I put my fingers to my throat. It was long and slender. It added an elegance to my figure. I accentuated it as I did all my assets and I disguised my defects, with success, I believe. I could almost feel the sword there.

All through the waiting years I had known I must hold him off. I knew him as the hunter and his delight in pursuit. As long as it remained the chase he was determined to succeed. But the joys of capture were brief.

I should have known. I should have realized even as the crown was placed upon my head that it was there precariously.

I knew well the man on whom my fate depended. None knew him better. I should have realized that my life depended on one who was not to be relied on. His fancies faded as quickly as they came. I had been bemused because he had pursued me so ardently and with such persistence. The years of the chase had been long; those of possession short. When had he begun to weary? When had he begun to realize all he had done for me and to ask himself whether it had been worthwhile? What did he think now of his public quarrel with the Pope and the power of Rome—all for a woman who had ceased to interest him?

I should never have become involved with him. I should have escaped while there was time. I should have married Henry Percy. I should have died of the Sweat. Then this would never have come to pass.

Somewhere along the years the fault lay with me. Where? I would seek it. It would occupy me in my prison. It would keep my thoughts in the past, away from contemplation of the fearful future.

I would go back to those happy days at Blickling and Hever, to the glitter of the Court of France, my return to England—a young girl knowledgeable beyond her years, brought up in the most sophisticated and elegant Court in the world. That was what had made me what I was, and what I was had brought me to my present state. I wanted to recall it in detail… and while I waited here in my prison I would do so.

THE FIRST TIME I SAW THE KING was in the cavalcade on the way to Dover where his sister, the Princess Mary, was to embark for France and her marriage to the King of that country. To my surprise I was a member—though a very humble one—of that glorious assembly. This was the most exciting experience of my young life so far and I was in a state of constant apprehension lest I should act without due propriety and be sent home before we embarked because of some deficiency discovered in me—my youth, my inexperience or because I did not know how to behave with due decorum in the presence of the great. True, I had been assiduously schooled by my governess, Simonette, and I spoke French with a fair fluency; but I was realizing that the cocoon of safety which had enclosed me at Blickling and Hever was no longer there. I had left my childhood behind me forever.

And there I was in close proximity to the King himself. He was big— surely the biggest man I had ever seen, which was as a king should be. He was twenty-three years old then. His hair shone golden in the September sunshine and he wore it short and straight in a fashion which had come from France where, Simonette told me, all the best fashions came from. There would have been no need for any to be told that he was the King; all would have known just to look at him. He glittered. The jewels in his garments were dazzling; he laughed and joked as he rode along and the laughter of those about him seemed to punctuate every remark he made.

On one side of him rode the Queen and on the other the Princess Mary. Beside him the Queen looked almost somber—a peahen beside a glorious peacock. She had a serious, kindly face and the cross she wore about her neck called attention to that piety which we all knew was hers.

The Princess Mary bore a strong resemblance to her brother; she was strikingly beautiful, but at this time she wore a sullen expression which indicated that, however much others might be delighted by her marriage, she was not.

I thought how alarming it must be to be dispatched off to a husband whom one had never seen and who had already had two wives—the last one recently dead and the first put away because she was hump-backed, ill-favored and could not bear children. I knew this because Simonette had thought it necessary for me to know what was going on in the world about me, and as I was called precocious and Simonette said I was wise beyond my years, I listened to what I was told and remembered it.

The marriage had been arranged to indicate friendship between France and England, who had until recently been at war with each other. England's allies had been the Emperor Maximilian and Ferdinand of Spain; but Maximilian and Ferdinand had been uncertain allies and Louis of France was a wise man who saw the futility of war and sought to end it. This he did, breaking up the alliance by offering his daughter Renée as a bride for Maximilian's grandson Charles and to Ferdinand he offered Navarre on which Ferdinand had long cast covetous eyes. That left England to fight France alone; but Louis was prepared for that. Why not a friendship sealed by his marriage to Henry's sister? It must have been hard for our King to turn away such a glittering prize. His sister to be Queen of France! So, smarting from the humiliation inflicted on him by the perfidy of Maximilian and Ferdinand and knowing a good bargain when he saw one, he agreed. It was too good to be resisted, so Princess Mary was being led most reluctantly to the altar. It was small wonder that she looked sullen.

As we came into Dover the fierce wind was rising and a feeling of apprehension swept through the company. None of us looked forward to crossing that strip of water which separated us from the Continent of Europe. Storms blew up suddenly and I had heard people talk with horror of what had to be endured on a storm-tossed ship.

So we came to the castle where we should stay until the sea was calm enough for us to set out.

The great fortress loomed before us, its casements dug into the solid rock. It was known as the Gateway to England—a formidable building which could house two thousand soldiers and which had stood for centuries overlooking the sea. It was said that King Arthur of legend had inhabited the castle and that William the Conqueror had had difficulty in taking it. Of course it had changed since those days; it had been restored and added to, to make it the great fortress it was today; and here we must stay to await the King's pleasure and that of the sea.

As I lay in bed listening to the wind buffeting the walls of the castle I thought of how my life had changed so quickly. It had begun with the death of my mother two years before.

I believed I would never forget that day at Blickling. The Wyatts— Thomas and Mary—were with my own sister Mary, my brother George and myself in the garden. We saw a great deal of the Wyatts because our father and theirs had been appointed joint Constables of Norwich Castle, and when we were in Kent—they at Allington and we at Hever—we were close neighbors. We were great friends. I found Thomas exciting to be with and Mary a comfort.

Thomas was a vital person. He wrote poetry and he used to read it to us. Sometimes it made us laugh; sometimes it made us think. I was always happy to see Thomas; and his sister Mary was a girl who never said an unkind word about anyone; she was serious and quite clever. I think I liked Thomas more than anyone except my brother George, who was also a poet and a great talker. I loved to be with them both although I was expected to listen; and I was not allowed to speak for long, they being so much older than I was.

As for my sister Mary, she admitted that she never listened to what they said. Her mind would be flitting off on lighter matters such as what ribbon she would wear in her hair or whether her dress should be blue or pink. That was Mary—not so much stupid as having a lack of concentration. But she was good-hearted and we all loved her.