Charles had had the foresight to recognize that, if he were to consolidate the alliance he wished for, he must first placate Wolsey, and for that reason he had promised the Cardinal a considerable “pension.” The thought of vast sums being paid to him from the Imperial coffers was sweet, but some promises were made to be broken; and Wolsey was not certain whether Charles was to be relied on. He had also promised what was more important stilclass="underline" to use his influence at the Papal election, for the great goal of the Cardinal was the Papal crown since, possessing that, he would stand apart from kings, a ruler in his own right. He yearned for that crown.
There had been a disappointment early that year when Pope Leo X had died and a Papal election had taken place. Wolsey had felt that his chances of election were slender, but the promise of Imperial favor had sent his hopes soaring. He received only seven votes, and Adrian VI was elected.
This was not such a bitter disappointment as it might have been, for the Cardinal did not believe Adrian would live long and it seemed certain that another election would be held before many months had passed. If by that time Wolsey could show himself to be the true friend of the Emperor it might be that the promise of help would this time be fulfilled.
Perhaps he had no reason to feel disappointed; he was rising higher and higher in his own country and only last year Henry had presented him with the Abbey of St. Albans, doubtless to repay him for the money from his own pocket which he had spent on the recent embassy to Calais, whither he had gone to help settle differences between François and the Emperor.
And now the friendship with Charles was being strengthened and a treaty had been signed at Windsor in which Henry and Charles agreed on an invasion of France before the May of 1524.
This was where the King had shown himself inclined to meddle. Wolsey himself was not eager to go to war. War to him meant expense, for even with victory the spoils were often scarcely worth the effort made to obtain them. But war to Henry meant the glory of conquest, and it was as irresistible to him as one of the games he played with such élan at a pageant.
Still, a goodly pension from the Emperor, the promise of Imperial support at the next Papal election, and the need to fall in with the King’s wishes—they were very acceptable, thought Thomas Wolsey as he rode on to Greenwich.
AT THE DOOR of the Palace stood the Queen holding the hand of her daughter.
The Emperor dismounted and went towards them. He knelt before his aunt and, taking her hand, kissed it fervently.
Mary looked on, and she thought she loved the Emperor—firstly because he was so delighted to see her mother and looked at her so fondly; secondly because her mother was so pleased with him; and thirdly because there was nothing in that pale face to alarm a six-year-old girl.
Now he had turned to greet Mary. He took her hand and stooped low to kiss it; and as he did so there was a cheer from all those watching.
The King could not allow them to keep the center of the stage too long and was very quickly beside them, taking his daughter in his arms to the great delight of all who watched, particularly the common people. They might admire the grace of Charles, but they liked better the King’s homely manners. Henry knew it, and he was delighted because he was now the center of attention and admiration.
So they went into the Palace, Mary walking between her father and mother while the Emperor was at the Queen’s side.
Katharine felt happy to have with her one who was of her own family, although Charles did not resemble his mother in the least, nor was he, with his pallid looks, like his father who had been known as Philip the Handsome.
A momentary anxiety came to Katharine as she wondered whether Charles resembled his father in any other way. Philip had found women irresistible, and with his Flemish mistresses had submitted the passionate Juana to many an indignity, which conduct it was believed had aggravated her madness.
But surely there was no need to fear that her daughter would be submitted to similar treatment by this serious young man.
“I am so happy to have you with us,” she told her nephew.
“You cannot be more delighted than I am,” replied Charles in his somewhat hesitant way; but Katharine felt that the slight stammer accentuated his sincerity.
Henry said: “After the banquet our daughter shall show Your Imperial Highness how skilful she is at the virginals.”
“It would seem I have a most accomplished bride,” replied Charles and when, glancing up at him, Mary saw he was smiling at her with kindliness, she knew he was telling her not to be afraid.
So into the banqueting hall they went and sat down with ceremony, when good English food was served.
The King looked on in high good humor. He was pleased because he and the Emperor were going to make war on François, and he had sworn vengeance on the King of France ever since he, Henry, had challenged him to a wrestling match only to be ignobly thrown to the ground by that lean, smiling giant.
He was even pleased with Katharine on this occasion. She had played her part in bringing about the Spanish alliance; for there was no doubt that the Emperor was more ready to enter into alliance with an England whose Queen was his aunt than he would otherwise have been.
Henry caught the brooding eye of his Cardinal fixed on the pale young man.
Ha! he thought, Wolsey is uncertain. He is not enamored of our nephew. He looks for treachery in all who are not English. ’Tis not a bad trait in a Chancellor.
He thought of how Wolsey had bargained when they had made the treaty. A good servant, he mused, and one devoted to the interests of his King and country.
Enough of solemnity, he decided, and clapped his hands. “Music!” he cried. “Let there be music.”
So the minstrels played, and later Mary sat at the virginals and showed her fiancé how skilful she was.
“Is it possible that she is but six years old!” cried Charles.
And the King roared his delight.
“I think,” said the Emperor, “that with one so advanced it should not be necessary for me to wait six years for her. Let me take her with me. I promise you she shall have all the care at my court that you could give her at yours.”
Katharine cried in alarm: “No, no. She is too young to leave her home. Six years is not so long, nephew. You must wait six years.”
Charles gave her his slow, kindly smile. “I am in your hands,” he said.
Mary who had been listening to this conversation had grown numb with terror. Six years was a lifetime, but he wanted to take her now. This young man no longer seemed so kindly; he represented a danger. For the first time in her life she became aware that she might be taken from her mother’s side.
Katharine, who was watching her, noticed her alarm and knew the cause. She said: “It is past the Princess’s bed time. The excitement of Your Excellency’s visit has exhausted her. I ask your leave for her to retire to her apartments.”
Charles bowed his head and Henry murmured: “Let her women take her to bed, and we will show our nephew some of our English dances.”
So Mary was taken away while the royal party went into the ballroom; and soon the King was dancing and leaping to the admiration of all.
Katharine slipped away when the revelry was at its height and went to her daughter’s apartment, where she found Mary lying in her bed, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes wide open.
“Still awake, my darling?” Katharine gently reproved.
“Oh, Mother, I knew you would come.”
Katharine laid a hand on the flushed forehead. “You are afraid you will be sent away.”