“It is not that she has taken many lovers that is so disastrous; it is her manner of doing so. She blatantly enjoys it. It is almost as though her actions have become a public spectacle. People talk of her ribaldly. That, my brother will not endure. He declares he honors all women and will not have our sex humiliated… and that is what your sister is doing.”

I was bewildered and as always in our encounters Marguerite wanted me to explain my thoughts.

I said: “But it was the King himself who seduced her. He it was who called her his mare.”

“He did all this discreetly. It was only natural that she would find him irresistible and that in time he should have tired of her. Then she could have taken another lover… discreetly. In time the King might have found a husband for her. That often happens in such cases. But Mary could not wait. She must dash into the next available bed. She should have bargained.”

“That seems worse.”

“It is…in a way… but it is etiquette and let me tell you this, Anne, my dear child: it is not what is done in my brother's Court which is important, but the manner in which it is done.”

“But Mary would never barter. She would give.”

“That is true. But to give too freely is not good manners. It is humiliating our sex. You are puzzled, as well you might be. But this is how things are at my brother's Court.”

“Mary is young… she is simple really.”

“Ah, there you have it. She is too simple to be acceptable at the Court of France.”

“What will happen to her?”

“She is to be sent back to England.”

“Sent back in disgrace!”

“Her presence is no longer required at the Court of France.”

I covered my face with my hands. “And I?” I asked.

“My dear child, you are not responsible for your sister. Why, you are even younger than she is. I have grown fond of you. You interest me. My brother has noticed you, too.” She looked at me steadily. “You will always remember your sister and never, never make the mistakes that she has.”

I nodded.

“We wish you to stay at our Court. I am sure your father will agree to that—though your sister must go.”

So Mary went.

My father was horrified that she should be sent home—and for such a reason. I heard later from her that she was made very unhappy for a while. But she had had such an exciting time at the Court of France that she would remember it forever.

My father had married again and Mary was not welcome in the household. She was in disgrace.

But Mary's nature was not to be sad for long, and a year after her banishment I heard that she was married; her husband was a William Carey—a nobleman but poor; he came of a good family from the West Country—not the sort of match my father had anticipated for his daughter. It must have seemed to him that all his efforts on Mary's behalf had been wasted. But Mary was happy; she would always be happy; and perhaps if she were married to a man who pleased her—and she would not look for great riches—she would be contented.

Mary's experiences had a great effect on me—one which I should never forget. I did not know what plans my father had for me, but I guessed there would be plans. I was the only daughter left to keep up the Boleyn tradition of advantageous marriages.

And I was growing up.

I felt I wanted to hold back time. I wanted to go on living in this most elegant Court. I wanted to serve Queen Claude in the cloistered atmosphere of her apartments from which I could escape now and then to the stimulating society of Marguerite d'Alençon. I wanted my girlhood to go on and on.

Never, never must I follow in Mary's humiliating path. Remember it, always, I told myself.

One does not always realize at the time what effect historical events have upon our lives.

In the year 1520 I was thirteen years old, getting dangerously near the time when I should be considered marriageable. It was something I refused to think about.

Momentous events were afoot. The Emperor Maximilian, who had been one of the leading figures in European politics for so long, died. François immediately announced to his rival, Charles of Austria, who was now King of Spain, his claim to the vacant suzerainty. There was a great deal of discussion in Marguerite's circle about this. I heard it mentioned that the King of England believed he also had a claim.

The choice rested with a council of German Princes and Archbishops besides the Duke of Saxony, the Margrave of Brandenburg, the King of Bohemia and the Court Palatine of the Rhine. They were the only ones who could make the choice. Their verdict was a blow to François. He had thought he had a chance, though not an overwhelming one. Charles of Austria and Spain was elected and so became known as the Emperor Charles.

The result of this was to draw the disappointed candidates—France and England—together and it was arranged that a meeting should take place between them.

Much discussion went on between the two countries. Each was determined to show its power and glory to the other. So there was to be this meeting between the two Kings; if I were present with the Court, it would be the second time I had seen the King of England and I was excited at the prospect.

The matter was often discussed in Marguerite's circle, of which I was happy now to be a member. Queen Claude put no obstacles in my way; she thought it an excellent opportunity for me to be received in such intellectual company, which I could not enjoy with her.

I was naturally interested in comments on England. They spoke quite frankly in front of me. I think they had forgotten I was English—so French had I become.

Marguerite used to laugh about King Henry's vanity. We heard many stories about him because ambassadors were constantly coming back to the Court of France after having been to that of England and they liked to gossip. Marguerite encouraged this. We knew that the King of England had a tendency to play boyish games, that he liked appearing at masques in disguise, although it was never difficult to see through those disguises, for he could always be recognized by his height and reddish hair. He took a boyish delight in being treated familiarly and then suddenly revealing himself with: “I am your King.”

There was a great deal of laughter among Marguerite's friends—not always kind. Henry was a little naïve in the manner in which he betrayed his interest in François. They were more or less of the same age and in similar positions. Henry would have heard of François's good looks and elegance. He himself was considered handsome—a fine figure of a king and he wanted to make sure that he was equal to—or, better, excelled— François.

When the Venetian ambassador called at the Court, he had just come from England and he repeated a conversation between himself and Henry which was typical.

Henry wanted to know whether the King of France was as tall as he was. The Venetian ambassador replied that he could not give a definite answer; they were both unusually tall and must be about the same height.

“Is he as stout as I?” asked Henry.

“No,” replied the ambassador. “He is slender.”

“What sort of legs has he?” asked the King of England.

“Very slender.”

“Slender!” cried the King. “Then they cannot be shapely. Look you, man.” He held up his leg. “Look at this calf. Just look at it.”

The ambassador did as he was told and had to admit that the leg of the King of England was very fine indeed.

There was a great deal of laughter. “And what are your legs like?” became a catchphrase throughout the Court for a while.

But the growing power of the Emperor Charles meant that the Kings of France and England, whatever the rivalry between them, would have to watch the Emperor, and it was politic for them to show him that they were good friends, at least outwardly.

These three men stood astride Europe—the Emperor Charles, the King of France and the King of England. They were all young. Henry of England was the eldest, being three years older than François, and François was four years older than the Emperor. They were all eager to prove themselves—all energetically dedicated to the struggle for power.

As a result of this situation the King of England sent an embassy to Paris, there to make arrangements for the meeting between the two Kings. It was with some apprehension that I learned that my father was a member of this embassy.

Our meeting was rather a painful one. My father studied me closely. I saw at once that he was not displeased with me but the shadow of Mary's disgrace hung over us.

I curtsied and kept my eyes downcast.

He said: “It is a long time, daughter, since we met.”

“Yes, father.” I was uneasy, wondering whether I should have to return to England with him.

“I have had good reports of you,” he said, and I had the impression that he was pleased with me. I would have given a good deal for a sign of fatherly affection, but that, of course, would have been asking for too much. I found myself wishing that George had been sent instead of my father. What a different meeting that would have been!

I think he did not mean to be unkind, but he did not know how to show affection to us—though when I returned home and saw him with my stepmother, I realized that he could be fond of someone. It was a strange marriage because she was of no great family and by marrying her he had gone against the Boleyn tradition. I was to come to love her in time, for she was a wonderful woman—even though her blood might not be noble; and when I compared her with my cold grandfather, the Duke of Norfolk, and my indifferent uncle, the Earl of Surrey, I was glad my father had for once allowed his affections to get the better of his family pride.