The King's Secret Matter by Jean Plaidy Page A

better that she should learn it from me than any other.
    â€˜I left my mother to come here and marry your uncle Arthur. He was the King’s elder brother and, had he lived, he would have been the King, and your father the Archbishop of Canterbury. So I married Arthur, and when Arthur died I married your father.’
    â€˜What was my uncle Arthur like, Mother?’
    â€˜He was kind and gentle and rather delicate.’
    â€˜Not like my father,’ said the girl. ‘Did he want sons?’
    Those words made the Queen feel that she could have wept. She took her daughter in her arms, not only because she wasovercome by tenderness for her, but because she did not want her to see the tears in her eyes.
    â€˜He was too young,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘He was but a boy and he died before he grew to manhood.’
    â€˜How old is Charles, Mother?’
    â€˜He is twenty-two years old.’
    â€˜So old?’
    â€˜It is not really very old, Mary.’
    â€˜How many years older than I?’
    â€˜Now you should be able to tell me that.’
    Mary was thoughtful for a few moments; then she said: ‘Is it sixteen?’
    â€˜That is so.’
    â€˜Oh Mother, it seems so many.’
    â€˜Nonsense, darling; I am more than ten years older than Charles, yet you can be happy with me, can you not?’
    â€˜I can be so happy with you, Mother, that I believe I am never really happy when I am away from you.’
    The Queen laid her cheek against her daughter’s. ‘Oh my darling,’ she said, ‘do not love me too much.’
    â€˜How
can
I love you too much?’
    â€˜You are right, Mary. It can never be too much. I loved my mother so much that when I left her and when she left this Earth it seemed to me that she was still with me. I loved her so much that I was never alone.’
    The child looked bewildered and the Queen reproached herself for this outburst of emotion. She, who to everyone else was so calm and restrained, was on occasions forced to let her emotions flow over this beloved daughter who meant more to her than any other living person.
    I frighten the child with my confidences, she thought, andstood up, taking Mary’s hands in hers and smiling down at her.
    â€˜There, my love, are you ready?’
    â€˜Will you stand beside me all the time?’
    â€˜Perhaps not all the time, but I shall be there watching. And when you greet him I shall be beside you. Listen. I can hear the trumpets. That means they are close. We should be waiting to greet them. Come. Give me your hand. Now, darling, smile. You are very happy.’
    â€˜Are you happy too, Mother?’
    â€˜Indeed, yes. One of the dearest wishes of my heart is about to be fulfilled. Now we are ready to greet my nephew, who will be my son when he is the husband of my beloved daughter.’
    She held the little hand firmly in hers; and together they descended to the hall for the ceremonial greeting.

    As the royal cavalcade came from Windsor to Greenwich the people massed in their thousands to watch their King pass by. Loudly they cheered him, for he was a magnificent sight on horseback, and beside him the Emperor appeared a somewhat poor figure. The King of England was over six feet tall, his skin was pink and smooth as a boy’s, his blue eyes were bright and clear, and he glowed with good health, so that in comparison the Emperor looked pallid and unhealthy. His teeth were prominent and none too white, and he breathed through his mouth which was perpetually ajar; his aquiline nose had a pinched look and the only colour in his face was the blue of his eyes. He was serious, whereas the King of England was gay; he smiled faintly while Henry roared forth his good humour.
    But he seemed happy to be in England, and Henry was clearly pleased with him because of the contrast they made andthe attention which was therefore called to his own many physical perfections.
    As they rode along Henry