_CHAPTER XIX_
_Proserpina_
So the value received for Wolsey's friendship to Brandon was Mary'spromise to marry Louis.
Mary wanted to send a message at once to Brandon, telling him his lifewould be spared, and that she had made no delay this time--a fact ofwhich she was very proud--but the Tower gates would not open untilmorning, so she had to wait. She compensated herself as well as shecould by writing a letter, which I should like to give you here, butit is too long. She told him of his pardon, but not one word upon thetheme he so wished yet feared to hear of--her promise never to wed anyother man. Mary had not told him of her final surrender in the matterof the French marriage, for the reason that she dreaded to pain him,and feared he might refuse the sacrifice.
"It will almost kill him, I know," she said to Jane that night, "and Ifear it is a false kindness I do him. He would, probably, rather diethan that I should marry another; I know that I should rather die, orhave anything else terrible to happen, than for another woman topossess him. He promised me he never would; but suppose he should failin his word, as I have to-day failed in mine? The thought of itabsolutely burns me." And she threw herself into Jane's arms, and thatlittle comforter tried to soothe her by making light of her fears.
"Oh! but suppose he should?"
"Well! there is no need to borrow trouble. You said he promised you,and you know he is one who keeps his word."
"But I promised, too, and think of what I am about to do. Mary inheaven, help me! But he is made of different stuff from me. I can anddo trust his word, and when I think of all my troubles, and when itseems that I cannot bear them, the one comforting thought comes thatno other woman will ever possess him; no other woman; no other woman.I am glad that my only comfort comes from him."
"I hoped that I might have been some comfort to you; I have tried hardenough," said Jane, who was jealous.
"Oh! yes! my sweet Jane; you do comfort me; you are like a soothingbalm to an aching pain," and she kissed the hands that held hers. Thiswas all that modest little Jane required. She was content to be anhumble balm and did not aspire to the dignity of an elixir.
The girls then said their prayers in concert and Mary gently weptherself to sleep. She lay dreaming and tossing nervously untilsunrise, when she got up and added more pages to her letter, until Icalled to take it.
I was on hand soon after the Tower gates had opened and was permittedto see Brandon at once. He read Mary's letter and acted like everyother lover, since love-letters first began. He was quick to note theabsence of the longed for, but not expected assurance, and when he didnot see it went straight to the point.
"She has promised to marry the French king to purchase my life. Isthat not true?"
"I hope not," I answered, evasively; "I have seen very little of her,and she has said nothing about it."
"You are evading my question, I see. Do you know nothing of it?"
"Nothing," I replied, telling an unnecessary lie.
"Caskoden, you are either a liar or a blockhead."
"Make it a liar, Brandon," said I, laughingly, for I was sure of myplace in his heart and knew that he meant no offense.
I never doubt a friend; one would better be trustful of ninety-ninefriends who are false than doubtful of one who is true. Suspicion andsuper-sensitiveness are at once the badge and the bane of a littlesoul.
I did not leave the Tower until noon, and Brandon's pardon had beendelivered to him before I left. He was glad that the first news of ithad come from Mary.
He naturally expected his liberty at once, and when told that he wasto be honorably detained for a short time, turned to me and said: "Isuppose they are afraid to let me out until she is off for France.King Henry flatters me."
I looked out of the window up Tower street and said nothing.
When I left I took a letter to Mary, which plainly told her he haddivined it all, and she wrote a tear-stained answer, begging him toforgive her for having saved his life at a cost greater than her own.
For several days I was kept busy carrying letters from Greenwich tothe Tower and back again, but soon letters ceased to satisfy Mary, andshe made up her mind that she must see him. Nothing else would do. Shemust not, could not, and, in short, would not go another day withoutseeing him; no, not another hour. Jane and I opposed her all we could,but the best we could accomplish was to induce her for Brandon'ssake--for she was beginning to see that he was the one who had tosuffer for her indiscretions--to ask Henry's permission, and if herefused, then try some other way. To determine was to act with Mary,so off she went without delay to hunt the king, taking Jane and mealong as escort. How full we were of important business, as wescurried along the corridors, one on each side of Mary, all talkingexcitedly at once. When anything was to be done, it always requiredthree of us to do it.
We found the king, and without any prelude, Mary proffered herrequest. Of course it was refused. Mary pouted, and was getting readyfor an outburst, when Wolsey spoke up: "With your majesty's graciouspermission, I would subscribe to the petition of the princess. She hasbeen good enough to give her promise in the matter of so muchimportance to us, and in so small a thing as this I hope you may seeyour way clear toward favoring her. The interview will be the last andmay help to make her duty easier." Mary gave the cardinal a fleetingglance from her lustrous eyes full of surprise and gratitude, and asspeaking as a book.
Henry looked from one to the other of us for a moment, and broke intoa boisterous laugh.
"Oh, I don't care, so that you keep it a secret. The old king willnever know. We can hurry up the marriage. He is getting too muchalready; four hundred thousand crowns and a girl like you; he cannotcomplain if he have an heir. It would be a good joke on the miserlyold dotard, but better on '_Ce Gros Garcon_.'"
Mary sprang from her chair with a cry of rage. "You brute! Do youthink I am as vile as you because I have the misfortune to be yoursister, or that Charles Brandon is like you simply because he is aman?" Henry laughed, his health at that time being too good for him tobe ill-natured. He had all he wanted out of his sister, so heroutbursts amused him.
Mary hurriedly left the king and walked back to her room, filled withshame and rage; feelings actively stimulated by Jane, who was equallyindignant.
Henry had noticed Jane's frown, but had laughed at her, and had triedto catch and kiss her as she left; but she struggled away from him andfled with a speed worthy of the cause.
This insulting suggestion put a stop to Mary's visit to the Tower moreeffectually than any refusal could have done, and she sat down to pourforth her soul's indignation in a letter.
She remained at home then, but saw Brandon later, and to good purpose,as I believe, although I am not sure about it, even to this day.
I took this letter to Brandon, along with Mary's miniature--the onethat had been painted for Charles of Germany, but had never beengiven--and a curl of her hair, and it looked as if this was all hewould ever possess of her.
De Longueville heard of Henry's brutal consent that Mary might seeBrandon, and, with a Frenchman's belief in woman's depravity, wasexceedingly anxious to keep them apart. To this end he requested thata member of his own retinue be placed near Brandon. To this Henryreadily consented, and there was an end to even the letter-writing.Opportunities increase in value doubly fast as they drift behind us,and now that the princess could not see Brandon, or even write to him,she regretted with her whole soul that she had not gone to the Towerwhen she had permission, regardless of what any one would say orthink.
Mary was imperious and impatient, by nature, but upon rare and urgentoccasions could employ the very smoothest sort of finesse.
Her promise to marry Louis of France had been given under the stressof a frantic fear for Brandon, and without the slightest mentalreservation, for it was given to save his life, as she would havegiven her hands or her eyes, her life or her very soul itself; but nowthat the imminent danger was passed she began to revolve schemes toevade her promise and save Brandon notwit
hstanding. She knew thatunder the present arrangement his life depended upon her marriage, butshe had never lost faith in her ability to handle the king if she hadbut a little time in which to operate, and had secretly regretted thatshe had not, in place of flight, opened up her campaign along the lineof feminine diplomacy at the very beginning.
Henry was a dullard mentally, while Mary's mind was keen andalert--two facts of which the girl was perfectly aware--so it was nowonder she had such confidence in herself. When she first heard ofBrandon's sentence her fear for him was so great, and the need foraction so urgent, that she could not resort to her usual methods forturning matters her way, but eagerly applied the first and quickestremedy offered. Now, however, that she had a breathing spell, and timein which to operate her more slowly moving, but, as she thought,equally sure forces of cajolery and persuasion, she determined tomarshal the legions of her wit and carry war into the enemy's countryat once.
Henry's brutal selfishness in forcing upon her the French marriage,together with his cruel condemnation of Brandon, and his vileinsinuations against herself, had driven nearly every spark ofaffection for her brother from her heart. But she felt that she mightfeign an affection she did not feel, and that what she so wanted wouldbe cheap at the price. Cheap? It would be cheap at the cost of herimmortal soul. Cheap? What she wanted was life's condensed sweets--theman she loved; and what she wanted to escape was life's distilledbitterness--marriage with a man she loathed. None but a pure woman canknow the torture of that. I saw this whole disastrous campaign fromstart to finish. Mary began with a wide flank movement conducted undermasked batteries and skilfully executed. She sighed over her troublesand cried a great deal, but told the king he had been such a dear,kind brother to her that she would gladly do anything to please himand advance his interests. She said it would be torture to live withthat old creature, King Louis, but she would do it willingly to helpher handsome brother, no matter how much she might suffer.
The king laughed and said: "Poor old Louis! What about him? What abouthis suffering? He thinks he is making such a fine bargain, but theLord pity him, when he has my little sister in his side for a thorn.He had better employ some energetic soul to prick him with needles andbodkins, for I think there is more power for disturbance in thislittle body than in any other equal amount of space in all theuniverse. You will furnish him all the trouble he wants, won't you,sister?"
"I shall try," said the princess demurely, perfectly willing to obeyin everything.
"Devil a doubt of that, and you will succeed, too, or my crown's astew-pan," and he laughed at the huge joke he was about to perpetrateon his poor, old royal brother.
It would seem that the tremendous dose of flattery administered byMary would have been so plainly self-interested as to alarm thedullest perception, but Henry's vanity was so dense, and his appetitefor flattery so great, that he accepted it all without suspicion, andit made him quite affable and gracious.
Mary kept up her show of affection and docile obedience for a week ortwo until she thought Henry's suspicions were allayed; and then, afterhaving done enough petting and fondling, as she thought, to start theearth itself a-moving--as some men are foolish enough to say it reallydoes--she began the attack direct by putting her arms about the king'sneck, and piteously begging him not to sacrifice her whole life bysending her to France.
Her pathetic, soul-charged appeal might have softened the heart ofCaligula himself; but Henry was not even cruel. He was simply ananimal so absorbed in himself that he could not feel for others.
"Oh! it is out at last," he said, with a laugh. "I thought all thissweetness must have been for something. So the lady wants her Brandon,and doesn't want her Louis, yet is willing to obey her dear, kindbrother? Well, we'll take her at her word and let her obey. You may aswell understand, once and for all, that you are to go to France. Youpromised to go decently if I would not cut off that fellow's head, andnow I tell you that if I hear another whimper from you off it comes,and you will go to France, too."
This brought Mary to terms quickly enough. It touched her onevulnerable spot--her love.
"I will go; I promise it again. You shall never hear another word ofcomplaint from me if you give me your royal word that no harm shallcome to him--to him," and she put her hands over her face to concealher tears as she softly wept.
"The day you sail for France, Brandon shall go free and shall againhave his old post at court. I like the fellow as a good companion, andreally believe you are more to blame than he."
"I am all to blame, and am ready this day to pay the penalty. I am atyour disposal to go when and where you choose," answered Mary, mostpathetically.
Poor, fair Proserpina, with no kind mother Demeter to help her. Theground will soon open, and Pluto will have his bride.
That evening Cavendish took me aside and said his master, Wolsey,wished to speak to me privately at a convenient opportunity. So, whenthe bishop left his card-table, an hour later, I threw myself in hisway. He spoke gayly to me, and we walked down the corridor arm in arm.I could not imagine what was wanted, but presently it came out: "Mydear Caskoden"--had I been one for whom he could have had any use, Ishould have grown suspicious--"My dear Caskoden, I know I can trustyou; especially when that which I have to say is for the happiness ofyour friends. I am sure you will never name me in connection with thesuggestion I am about to make, and will use the thought only as yourown."
I did not know what was coming, but gave him the strongest assuranceof my trustworthiness.
"It is this: Louis of France is little better than a dead man. KingHenry, perhaps, is not fully aware of this, and, if he is, he hasnever considered the probability of his speedy death. The thoughtoccurred to me that although the princess cannot dissuade her brotherfrom this marriage, she may be able, in view of her ready and cheerfulcompliance, to extract some virtue out of her sore necessity andinduce him to promise that, in case of the death of Louis, she herselfshall choose her second husband."
"My lord," I replied, quickly grasping the point, "it is small wonderyou rule this land. You have both brain and heart."
"I thank you, Sir Edwin, and hope that both may always be at theservice of you and your friends."
I gave the suggestion to Mary as my own, recommending that she profferher request to the king in the presence of Wolsey, and, although shehad little faith or hope, she determined to try.
Within a day or two an opportunity offered, and she said to Henry: "Iam ready to go to France any time you wish, and shall do it decentlyand willingly; but if I do so much for you, brother, you might atleast promise me that when King Louis is dead I may marry whomsoever Iwish. He will probably live forever, but let me have at least thathope to give me what cheer it may while I suffer."
The ever-present Wolsey, who was standing near and heard Mary'spetition, interposed: "Let me add my prayer to that of her highness.We must give her her own way in something."
Mary was such a complete picture of wretchedness that I thought at thetime she had really found a tender spot in Henry's heart, for he gavethe promise. Since then I have learned, as you will shortly, that itwas given simply to pacify the girl, and without any intentionwhatever of its being kept; but that, in case of the death of KingLouis, Henry intended again to use his sister to his own advantage.
To be a beautiful princess is not to enjoy the bliss some peopleimagine. The earth is apt to open at any time, and Pluto to snatch heraway to--the Lord knows where.
Mary again poured out her soul on paper--a libation intended forBrandon. I made a dozen attempts, in as many different ways, todeliver her letters, but every effort was a failure, and this missivemet the fate of the others. De Longueville kept close watch on hismaster's rival, and complained to Henry about these attempts atcommunication. Henry laughed and said he would see that they werestopped, but paid no more attention to the matter.
If Mary, before her interview with Henry, had been averse to theFrench marriage, she was now equally anxious to hurry it on, andlonged to go
upon the rack in order that Brandon might be free. He, ofcourse, objected as strenuously as possible to the purchase of hislife by her marriage to Louis, but his better judgment told him--infact, had told him from the first--that she would be compelledeventually to marry the French king, and common sense told him if itmust be, she might as well save his life at the same time.Furthermore, he felt a certain sense of delight in owing his life toher, and knew that the fact that she had saved him--that hersacrifice had not all been in vain--would make it easier for her tobear.
The most beautiful feature of the relations between these two loverswas their entire faith in each other. The way of their true love wasat least not roughened by cobble-stones of doubt, however impassableit was from mountains of opposition.
My inability to deliver Mary's letters did not deter her from writingthem; and as she was to be married in a few days--de Longueville toact as proxy--she devoted her entire time to her letters, and wrotepages upon pages, which she left with me to be delivered "afterdeath," as she called her marriage.
At this time I was called away from court for a day or two, and when Ireturned and called upon Brandon at the Tower, I found him whistlingand singing, apparently as happy as a lark. "You heartless dog,"thought I, at first; but I soon found that he felt more thanhappiness--exaltation.
"Have you seen her?" I asked.
"Who?" As if there were more than one woman in all the world for him.
"The princess."
"Not since I left her at Bristol."
I believed then, and believe now, that this was a point blankfalsehood--a very unusual thing for Brandon--but for some reasonprobably necessary in this case.
There was an expression in his face which I could not interpret, buthe wrote, as if carelessly scribbling on a scrap of paper that layupon the table, the words, "Be careful," and I took the hint--we werewatched. There is an unpleasant sensation when one feels that he iswatched by unseen eyes, and after talking for awhile on common topicsI left and took a boat for Greenwich.
When I arrived at the palace and saw Mary, what was my surprise tofind her as bright and jubilant as I had left Brandon. She, too,laughed and sang, and was so happy that she lighted the whole room.What did it all mean? There was but one explanation; they had met, andthere was some new plan on foot--with a fatal ending. The next failurewould mean death to Brandon, as certainly as the sun rises in theeast. What the plan was I could not guess. With Brandon in the Towerunder guard both day and night, and Mary as closely guarded in thepalace, I could not see any way of escape for either of them, nor howthey could possibly have come together.
Brandon had not told me, I supposed, for fear of being overheard, andMary, although she had the opportunity, was equally non-communicative,so I had recourse to Jane upon the first occasion. She, by the way,was as blue and sad-faced as Mary was joyous. I asked her if theprincess and Brandon had met, and she sadly said: "I do not know. Wewent down to London yesterday, and as we returned stopped at BridewellHouse, where we found the king and Wolsey. The princess left theroom, saying she would return in a few minutes, and then Wolsey wentout, leaving me alone with the king. Mary did not return for half anhour, and she may have seen Master Brandon during that time. I do notunderstand how the meeting could have occurred, but that is the onlytime she has been away from me." Here Jane deliberately put her headon my shoulder and began to weep piteously.
"What is the trouble?" I asked.
She shook her head: "I cannot, dare not tell you."
"Oh! but you must, you must," and I insisted so emphatically that sheat length said:
"The king!"
"The king! God in heaven, Jane, tell me quickly." I had noticed Henryof late casting glances at my beautiful little Jane, and had seen himtry to kiss her a few days before, as I have told you. This annoyed mevery much, but I thought little of it, as it was his habit to ogleevery pretty face. When urged, Jane said between her sobs: "He triedto kiss me and to--mistreat me when Wolsey left the room at BridewellHouse. I may have been used to detain him, while Mary met MasterBrandon, but if so, I am sure she knew nothing of it."
"And what did you do?"
"I struggled away from him and snatched this dagger from my breast,telling him that if he took but one step toward me I would plunge itin my heart; and he said I was a fool."
"God keep you always a fool," said I, prayerfully. "How long has thisbeen going on?"
"A month or two; but I have always been able to run away from him. Hehas been growing more importunate of late, so I bought a dagger thatvery day, and had it not one hour too soon." With this she drew out agleaming little weapon that flashed in the rays of the candle.
This was trouble in earnest for me, and I showed it very plainly. ThenJane timidly put her hand in mine, for the first time in her life, andmurmured:
"We will be married, Edwin, if you wish, before we return fromFrance." She was glad to fly to me to save herself from Henry, and Iwas glad even to be the lesser of two evils.
As to whether my two friends met or not that day at Bridewell I cannotsay; but I think they did. They had in some way come to anunderstanding that lightened both their hearts before Mary left forFrance, and this had been their only possible opportunity. Jane and Iwere always taken into their confidence on other occasions, but as tothis meeting, if any there was, we have never been told a word. Mybelief is that the meeting was contrived by Wolsey upon a solemnpromise from Brandon and Mary never to reveal it, and if so, they havesacredly kept their word.
On the 13th of August, 1514, Mary Tudor, with her golden hair fallingover her shoulders, was married at Greenwich to Louis de Valois; deLongueville acting as his French majesty's proxy. Poor, fairProserpina!...
Note.--Maidens only were married with their hair down. It was "the sacred token of maidenhood."--Editor.