His love affairs were numerous. Love was the great theme of the Court at that time. Poets wrote of it; musicians sang of it; courtiers talked of it. François was always gallant and charming; and he gathered about him men of similar tastes. It was said that if a man did not have a mistress he regarded him with suspicion. He liked to talk of women with other men and to hear how their love affairs were progressing; he would press for intimate details, and yet he could get angry if he considered any did not pay due respect to women.

To my mind it was all rather puzzling; but I did realize later how important my upbringing was in making me the sort of person I became.

In spite of his notorious infidelity to my mistress Claude, François was always gallant to her and showed her the respect due to a queen. She was constantly pregnant. I believe he delighted to see her in that condition for then he need not spend his nights with her until after the child was born and the time came for him to father another. It was really very decadent and the greatest offense was not wickedness but vulgarity. It was quite different from the Court of England of which I was to learn so much later.

Queen Claude herself took an interest in my education and very soon I was immersed in my quiet life. Those months which I had spent with Queen Mary seemed very far away. I often thought of her; and I heard that she was indeed living quietly in the country, for the Court was too expensive for her and her husband in view of their debts. I thought the King must soon free her of that obligation, for she would surely add to the brightness of his Court. I did hear also that she was deeply contented and I rejoiced with her. It seemed to be one of the few marriages which were truly happy.

As for myself, perhaps because of my youth, I was able to settle into the new life with the utmost ease. Not long after I joined Queen Claude's household, the King left to go to war. He wanted to prove to his subjects that besides being a handsome gallant he could be a conqueror. I heard these matters discussed and I was alert for what I could discover. Thus I learned that François was determined to bring conquests to France. He was gathering an army together on the pretext that he wished to make Burgundy secure against attacks from the Swiss, but it was believed—and this appeared to be the truth—that he was contemplating an invasion of the Italian States. Ferdinand of Spain was urging the Pope, the Swiss, the Emperor Maximilian and the Duke of Milan, Maximilian Sforza, to join a league for the defense of Italy. The Pope, however, refused to join, declaring himself, as Pope, to be father of them all.

The conquest of Italy had been the policy of the last two Kings of France and François was determined to continue in this. He appointed his mother Regent of France and went to war.

Soon we had news of his great victory at Melegnano over the Swiss. François had done all his country expected of him. In a short engagement he had beaten the Swiss, disconcerted his enemies and entered Milan in triumph. Maximilian Sforza, after taking refuge in the castle there, surrendered and agreed to retire to France with a pension. The Pope, seeing the way in which events had gone, invited François to meet him at Bologna, where they could discuss the future as the good friends the Pope and the Most Christian King must be.

I did not understand all this at the time, but it fell into place later and when I look back I see clearly how these events shaped my future.

François became enchanted by the art of Italy and grew much attached to Pope Leo. Leo was a most cultivated man, which might be expected of the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent. Intellectual, witty in conversation, astute in matters of state and a patron of the arts, he had all the gifts which would appeal to François. He was fond of music and enchanted by theatrical performances; he encouraged writers and artists as his father had done. It was small wonder that François was only too ready to dally at the Papal Court; he was in his element surrounded by works of art; and he found the women of Italy beautiful and gave his rapt attention to all.

Ferdinand of Spain had control of Naples, on which François had set his heart. Ferdinand was getting old and was ailing, Leo pointed out. He could not live long, so would it not be wise to postpone the attempt to take it and wait a while for Ferdinand's death, when it might be quite easy for François to attain his desire without going to war?

Having proved his military skill, François was ready to take that advice; and when he returned to France, he brought the great artist Leonardo da Vinci with him; he was so enamored of his work that he wanted him to work for him. He gave Leonardo the Château Cloux in Touraine, near Amboise, as his home. Unfortunately the great man did not enjoy it for long and died four years later in 1519, which was perhaps not unexpected as he was in his sixty-seventh year. François had the utmost respect for artists of all kinds. Once he said: “Men can make kings, but only God can make an artist.”

During the years that followed, I became so much a part of the French Court that I forgot I was English. I was growing up and very different from the seven-year-old who had arrived. I enjoyed looking on at the Court without being an actual part of it. It was like watching through a window. I was rather relieved about this in a way. I could see how easy it would be to be caught up in actions which might prove detrimental to one's dignity. I was very much aware of dignity. But perhaps I came to that state later, after what happened to my sister Mary. Looking back, it is not always easy to remember when one began to change.

I really enjoyed my role of observer. I felt I was being prepared for the day when I must emerge and take part in the scene. The King's favorite mistress at that time was Françoise de Foix, one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. Many envied her her place at Court; they said François was her slave and he certainly acted as though he adored her; but he was not faithful to her and it all seemed to me like a masque without reality. I thought I would not care to be Françoise de Foix for all the adulation which came her way. Tomorrow it would all be gone. It all depended on the fickle King and he was playing a game most of the time. But it was interesting to watch.

François had come to the throne in a haze of glory; he had appeared to have all the kingly qualities, but his extravagances had to be paid for, and the time must come when the people realized that a monarch who was as handsome as a god and amused them with his outrageous adventures might not bring them so much comfort as a sick old man who had the welfare of his people at heart. Under Louis life might have been dull for the citizens of Paris, but the streets were quiet; following the example of the King, the people had retired early, and if any had reason to be out late, they went without fear. That had changed. Bands of roistering young men roamed the streets. It had long been the law that anyone out after dark should carry a little hand-lantern, and these were maliciously knocked out of their owners’ hands; dissolute young men humiliated the women, taking liberties with them during these drunken brawls. There had been occasions when the mischief-makers were revealed and seen among them were noblemen; and there had been seen the most familiar face of all—the long-nosed, handsome, sardonic features of the Most Christian King.

The sober citizens were shocked; they were disillusioned; they began to talk nostalgically of the good old days.

A party of players had roamed the country, amusing the people with their comedies; and in the past they had often performed their little playlets at Court. A feature of these was the satirizing of well-known figures. The late Louis had often watched them and been amused to see himself portrayed not always flatteringly, counting his money, the parsimonious monarch who liked to keep the Treasury at a high level—for they all knew that this was not for himself but for the country's needs.

Now they were bringing into the sketches a new monarch—a figure of elegance to whom the cut of a coat was of the utmost importance, who flitted from one amour to another; it could only be a parody of François. But it was not the portrayal of François which was so disconcerting as that of his mother, the Duchess Louise. The people had to have a scape-goat and François, being young and charming, could be forgiven for his foibles. “High spirits. Youth,” said the people indulgently. The extravagances necessary to placate these high spirits were laid at the door of the Duchess Louise, who had taken charge of affairs to such a great extent since her regency that the people complained that she ruled the country. In the play she was Mère Sotte and was seen plundering the Treasury and leading her youthful son astray.

François might have shrugged this off—not so Louise. She was incensed. The criticism was directed against her and she wanted revenge. This was a blatant example of lèse majesté and, she declared, punishable by law.

Consequently the players were arrested and taken to Blois, where they were kept in dungeons.

I think they would probably have been left there to perish had it not been for Queen Claude. She was really distressed about the incident. I thought that, in her quiet way, she was very wise, although there had been times when I had been inclined to despise her for her meek acceptance of her lot. After all, she was a king's daughter. Had I been in her place, I should have insisted on being treated with more respect. I should have refused to feign indifference to François's love affairs, for it must be feigned. She must care. She must feel humiliated. And when the time came, she just meekly accepted his return to the marriage bed, remaining calm and continuing with her good works.