The Other Henry VIII

Hawks and Rivals

To the chagrin of Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Princess Margaret settled into her new position with the ease and grace that she had been born with. Though she spent little time with King Francis, and exchanged few words when they did, she was beginning to understand what sort of a man he was. Unlike Henry, whose erratic behaviour always betrayed his position on matters whether he liked it or not, the French King put on a seamless affectation of indifference and ignorance. He deflected any questions involving business with a careless wave of the hand. And though his court indulged themselves in sumptuous feasts and lavish balls, there was a sense of anguish bubbling softly beneath the surface of it all. Their kingdom had been plagued with war for many years, and though both princes had been released from the Emperor's custody, the memories were far from giving them peace. They put up a brilliant facade, thought Margaret — it was almost convincing.

Isabel Westover proved to be the best companion she could have asked for. Commanding, sharp-tongued, and fiercely loyal, she could never be found further than five paces from her mistress. She was a more than worthy opponent of Lady Anne, who stalked the halls of the palace like a bloodhound, dressed head-to-toe in the finest fashions and jewels that the King's purse could allow. After the initial shock, the courtiers soon settled into the roles of spectators on the impassioned feud between the King's future wife and official mistress. While Lady Anne coaxed and charmed Francis, whispering in his ear at dinner and touching his hand as they passed in the hall, Margaret spoke with him amiably when called upon and formed tactful alliances with nobles when his back was turned.

It was no secret that many at court resented Lady Anne. With the King, she could be playful and engaging, but it all faded when confronted with those who opposed her. By the day of the royal wedding, she was at the end of her tether. A maid had seen her barking furiously at her own ladies because they did not move quick enough.
"She's exceptionally clever," said Isabel as she fastened her mistress' sleeves, "And accomplished. That was what drew the King to her, at first."
"And it does help that she's perfect in every way," pointed out one of the other ladies.
"Except her temper," quipped Isabel, and was delighted to see Margaret laugh in return.

The anaemic winter sun hung low and feeble in the sky when their carriages set off for the cathedral. As a seasoned bride and by no means a young woman anymore, Margaret had chosen black for the colour of her gown, but someone along the line had decided to make it so voluminous that only Isabel could squeeze into the carriage with her. No doubt Lady Anne would have been informed of the fact long ago, and would have spent days formulating the ideal gown to upstage the future Queen at her own wedding. Margaret told her companion so.

"It is likely. She overshadowed Eleanor of Austria at her wedding with the King without even trying," pondered Isabel. "But she doesn't know what a Princess of England is capable of. Her arrogance will be her undoing."
Reassured, Margaret relaxed and began to gaze out of the window. The swaying of the carriage rocked her gently like the ample arms of a wet nurse. Somehow it felt as if the two of them had been friends for years. When Isabel spoke, the excruciating tear that John had left in her heart and the dull ache of pining for her son dwindled just enough to make the pain bearable.
"When you and Leia were at court here as girls, why did you not return to England with her?" she found herself asking.

Isabel's courage wavered for a moment, and she was glad that her mistress was looking the other way. "Leia was always Papa's favourite," she answered ruefully, "I was his second. Which, among eight children, I suppose is nothing to complain about. That was why he sent us here, you see. He thought living at court for a while would improve our chances of marrying well. Poor Papa. He had such high hopes for the pair of us. But when he heard King Francis had taken a liking to her, he summoned her back immediately. He saw no point in wasting time on a married man, however powerful he may be. King Henry was married too so, of course, he wouldn't do at all. Only the old bachelor Exeter was good enough for his beloved Leia. I think he forgot about me, after that.  And now, she's Queen of England, mother to the future King. The prime example of Papa's talent for placing the right bets. Who knows what would have happened if he had sent me home in her place? A Starling girl on Leia's throne, I expect. I don't blame her for abandoning me here; there's only so much a girl of fifteen can do to retaliate. But I do blame Papa. I imagine most people back in England are unaware of me. his homely spinster daughter, tucked away in France where I won't bother anyone. And that's the way he likes it."