Between Two Kings (12 page)

Anne held her breath. Jane Seymour fell pregnant so quickly after their marriage. She cursed silently. She hoped that it would be another daughter, a useless girl for Henry. She didn’t wish Jane to have miscarriages and stillborn babies, but she wanted the blonde-haired mousy to feel how Anne herself had felt when Henry had been disappointed with Elizabeth’s birth. “Well, it is normal when a wife expects a baby,” Anne said in a neutral voice, her gaze stony. “I wish she will have a healthy daughter.”

Jean smiled at her words and changed the topic. “Anne, do you know about the Italian war?”

“Yes, I do,” she confirmed. Then she put a piece of venison in her mouth.

“His Majesty King François is spending much time in Italy now.”

Anne nearly choked with juice. “Because of the war?” There was a hint of alarm in her voice.

“Yes, it is the result of the ongoing war – the Italian wars. Last year King François spent much time in the region of Provence, Piedmont and Lombardy,” he said in a cautious voice.

Anne’s blue eyes flew to Jean’s face. She put a glass of apple juice on the table as it trembled in her hands. For an instant there was a sort of alarm and anxiety in her gaze, which in a fraction of second went blank. Jean noticed it. “Will King François come here soon?”

Jean was eating a large slice of roasted meat. “I don’t exclude that he may come here. It is likely that France is seeking for an alliance with the Republic of Venice. France needs more allies against the Holy Roman Emperor.”

“What will we do in this case?” she inquired.

“First of all, you must calm down, Anne. I am not sure that the King of France will come here because he is currently too busy in Piedmont. It was also rumored that he had an important meeting at the Vatican,” Jean declared. “Moreover, it is not necessary that you will see him, even if he travels to Venice.”

Anne sighed heavily, then sipped some juice. “It will be better if I don’t meet him.”

She was alarmed. It was a real danger if King François traveled to Venice. The thought that King François might meet Anne and recognize her in Venice sent a shiver along her spine. Her heart nearly jumped out of her thorax as she tried to imagine what would happen in that most unfortunate case. If King François ever met Anne in Venice, it would be a disaster. Many questions whirled in her mind. Would François capture her and hold her as the English fugitive prisoner accused of high treason and sentenced to death? Would Anne be sent back to England as a peace gesture towards King Henry? What would happen to her relatives, including her father and her sister Mary? What would happen to Henry Percy and other accomplices in the plan of her salvation? Anne was frightened that she could become an anathema for her family, worse than the plague. Her new path promised to be even more dangerous than she had initially expected.

Everybody knew that King Henry had been favoring an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire over an alliance with France since Anne Boleyn’s downfall and execution. Given that France invaded Italy in 1536 and captured Turin, King François would most likely be happy not to admit an alliance between England and the Holy Roman Empire, which could have eventually become a potential threat for France. Therefore, it would be quite feasible that the French would choose to please England, Anne mused.

“It might be useful for you if you met King François,” Jean said unexpectedly.

Her eyes grew wide in astonishment. “I… I don’t think so,” she stammered.

“Anne, I am very serious.”

She went very still, and the old man’s words hung heavy in an oppressive silence. Surely, Jean was jeering at her, she thought. She didn’t understand him. “What do you mean by saying that it could be useful?”

Jean spoke in a flat baritone. “I suppose King François might become your ally.”

“Why should he?” she inquired skeptically.

“You have the same enemy – King Henry of England. King François has all the grounds to hate King Henry,” Jean explained.

Anne had always known about the competition between King Henry and King François, but Jean’s statement bewildered her. “To hate him?”

Jean gave a nod. “Yes. King François hates King Henry, with all his heart.”

“I thought that King François would seek for an alliance between England and France because France cannot admit an Anglo-Imperial alliance that may drastically weaken the political and military power of France.”

“I highly doubt that King François wants to have an alliance with England. Our king hates Emperor Charles V and King Henry VIII.”

She couldn’t grasp that mortal hatred between the kings existed. “But why?” she questioned and took an apple from the platter.

“There are very serious reasons for it. Just take for granted what I told you,” the old count answered reluctantly, then averted his gaze.

Anne decided not to pursue the topic because it was evident that Monsieur Jean wasn’t ready to reveal the truth. She was observant enough to notice his mood swings. When Anne was the Queen of England, she played many court games and was involved in many political intrigues. While she had let herself weave many intrigues in the past, now everything was different. After her tragic experience in England and her escape, she was tired of dangerous court games when courtiers gossiped, poisoned their enemies’ lives, and planned downfalls and ascensions.

Yet, she still was interested in politics because she had personal interests in England – her children’s interests. Even if she had left England forever, her life had already been tied to England. After Monsieur Jean’s last words, Anne craved to learn what had happened between King Henry and King François. Maybe there was something she didn’t know. Her intuition said that something dark had happened between England and France. She hoped that one day she would understand what Jean meant.

CHAPTER 6

April 1537, Vatican, the seat of the Papacy

The extravagant white royal carriage was moving away from the Vatican City and St. Peter’s Basilicais, which was a Late Renaissance church principally re-designed by Donato Bramante in the beginning of the 16
th
century.

Inside the carriage was King François I of France, his long-term 
maîtresse en titre
 Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d’Heilly, Duchess d’Étampes, and François de Tournon, a French diplomat and the cardinal in great favor of the King of France. They were on their way to a special meeting with Pope Paul III. The meeting was connected to the annulment of the king’s marriage to Eleanor of Austria, born an Archduchess of Austria and Infanta of Castile from the House of Habsburg; she was the elder sister of Emperor Charles V. It was a very sad story of matrimony. King François was forced to marry in July 1530 in order to secure the freedom of his two eldest sons - Dauphin François, Duke of Brittany, and Dauphin Henry.

The disaster began in the Battle of Pavia on 24 February 1525, where the king was actually captured by the imperial forces. François was held captive in the miserable prison in Madrid in May 1526 before he was eventually allowed to return to France in exchange for his two sons Dauphin François and his second son Henry. His sons had spent several years in Madrid before they returned home to France in 1530.

To release his two sons from captivity, King François had to make many concessions to Emperor Charles V. The King of France was also forced to marry Eleanor of Austria. As a result, King François hated Emperor Charles wholeheartedly. He also wasn’t interested in the marriage to Eleanor of Austria, whom he usually publicly ignored due to his hatred for Charles and his personal dislike of Eleanor. François had never consummated his marriage to Eleanor and preferred his lover Anne de Pisseleu over his wife. For around eleven years, Anne de Pisseleu had been the king’s 
maîtresse en titre
 since his return from captivity in Madrid.

As France gained military power and had a well-trained, large army, King François was no longer able to tolerate his marriage and thus appealed to the pope. François knew that his appeal for an annulment was well-grounded because his marriage to Eleanor of Austria had been forced. The pope officially granted an annulment on the basis of
the Catholic Canon 1103
that stated that a marriage may be declared invalid if force or grave fear was imposed on at least one of the two parties to obtain their consent. Non-consummation was an additional argument for an annulment. The latter could have been confirmed by every French courtier as the King of France had never been seen in the queen’s personal chambers. While there were true reasons to declare his marriage null and void, François was lucky that the pope was on his side, not being entirely pleased with the behavior of Charles V and the rising power of the Holy Roman Empire in Europe.

“It is a glorious day today, isn’t it?” Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly questioned with a smile.

King François smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“Your Majesty, congratulations with the annulment of your second marriage,” Cardinal François de Tournon said, briefly touching his red four-cornered cap.

François continued to smile, looking at his lover. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

“We got what we wanted,” the cardinal added.

“We must thank His Holiness for his help,” François returned. “Please ask Monsieur Antoine de Noailles to accompany Her Highness Infanta Eleanor back to Spain to her dear brother.” He referred to Eleanor by her Spanish title from birth as though she had never been married to him.

The cardinal gave a nod. “I will.”

François drew a hand through his chestnut hair. His sardonic and chilly smile betokened his satisfaction. “The emperor will be infuriated and intimidated with our achievements.”

The cardinal also smiled. “The emperor will be very angry.”

“Of course, the emperor will be outraged. France just threw this annulment right into his face. This is a historical moment.” Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess d’Étampes, laughed. “Your Majesty, now you are like King Henry of England.”

The king’s smile faded away, his jaw line tensed. “I wouldn’t say that I am like Henry. I never killed my own wife.” His face clouded as his thoughts drifted to the atrocity King Henry did to Anne Boleyn.

“I am sorry if I expressed my opinion confusingly,” Anne said apologetically.

“Never mind, Anne,” François replied softly.

“I only wanted to say that you are also a man who cast off his unwanted wife. King Henry also annulled his marriage to Lady Anne Boleyn before she was executed,” Anne noted.

As Duchess d’Étampes said that, François’ thoughts drifted to Anne Boleyn. When he’d heard about Anne’s imprisonment, the ridiculous charges against her, and her eventual death by being burnt at the stake as a witch, François was furious King Henry had been able to kill the queen, the mother of his daughter, so savagely. He was shocked by Anne’s cold-blooded murder. It was murder – he just couldn’t call it otherwise – and she was innocent.

Cardinal de Tournon blinked. “If King Henry annulled his marriage to Lady Anne, then the charges of adultery and treason against Lady Anne are groundless,” he speculated. “If there is no marriage, there is no adultery.” He shook his head.

François’ brow furrowed. As soon as they had touched on the topic of Anne Boleyn, his expression had turned distant, as if his thoughts were not entirely within the walls of the carriage. “I have known Lady Anne Boleyn since her early youth. She was too clever to betray the King of England with her own brother and several prominent courtiers,” he said in a steady voice. “God rest her soul,” he added regrettably, laying a stress on each word.

The cardinal crossed himself. “God rest her soul.”

“I think that King Henry just wanted to get rid of Lady Anne Boleyn,” Anne assumed.

The cardinal nodded. “If he just wanted to cast her aside, then he would simply divorce her or annul the marriage. There was something else beneath this tragic story.”

“What can it be if the charges against her are false?” the king’s mistress questioned.

François averted his gaze and looked outside of the carriage window. “I am sure that Thomas Cromwell is connected with the plot of the downfall of the Boleyns. Cromwell supplies Henry with a constant list of threats to the kingdom, real or imaginary, serious or minor, which makes my cousin increasingly erratic in many of his decisions and actions,” he commented. He wanted to call these decisions and actions “paranoid” or “mad”, but refrained from verbal, slanderous expressions. Henry was the King of England, and François was too cultured and too well-mannered to step so low in his speech toward any monarch.

“I agree,” the cardinal croaked.

“And so do I,” Duchess d’Étampes joined.

François rubbed his chin as if in contemplation. Then he emitted a heavy sigh. “It is a great pity that Lady Anne Boleyn was burnt to death by her own husband. I would be happy if she were alive now.”

Anne glared suspiciously at him. She had always been jealous of François where other women were concerned. “Your Majesty, what do you mean?”

The king managed an ambiguous smile. “I implied exactly what I said, Madame.”

Cardinal de Tournon looked slightly startled. He decided to change the topic. “Your Majesty, I think that you have spent too much time being involved in the ongoing Italian war with the emperor. Perhaps, you need to take a short break?”

François shook his head in disagreement. “It is not time for rest now. Very soon I am having an important meeting with the Doge of the Republic of Venice. We are traveling there very soon.”

“Is it so urgent?” Duchess d’Étampes asked.

François let out a cheerful laugh, asking himself how one woman could be so vexing, so cruel, and so attractive all at once. He knew that she knew about the war and many of his plans in Italy, but she still asked him whether his departure was so urgent, knowing perfectly well that he had to leave. “Anne, you know that there is a serious war in Piedmont and Lombardy. It is my duty as the King of France to secure new solid political and military alliances on the Italian Peninsula,” he explained.

“Is Your Majesty planning to establish an alliance with the Republic of Venice?” the cardinal asked.

The king nodded. “An alliance with the Republic of Venice is our first priority in the next few months. We must have as many Italian allies against the emperor as possible.”

“It would be an advantageous alliance,” the cardinal agreed.

“I expect Your Eminence to help me with the negotiations,” the king told the cardinal.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty, am I travelling with you?” Anne asked.

King François glared appraisingly at Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly, Duchess d’Étampes, the blond-haired, green-eyed French beauty. His eyes took in her small-framed figure under a light pink velvet gown with a very low crescent décolletage. She was accustomed to bearing her bosom and her shoulders were half-naked. Around her neck a gold cross dangled. She wore an elegant small pink velvet hat that had a pair of long white plumes that dipped and bobbed around her shoulders on the breeze.

François smiled. He liked how his mistress’ green, almost emerald, eyes sparkled with vivacity or languished in melancholy. She was a young woman who was always ready for passionate love and sophisticated intrigue, non-stop dancing and intellectual discussion. She was an exceptional woman in every aspect of the word and in all the charm of the idea.

François thought that there were many incredible things in his mistress: from how her emerald eyes could languish or flash with fire to her small-boned feet in the velvet slippers. She had inborn French coquetry and was a highly skillful master of seduction and temptation, drawing men’s attention to herself. She walked like a temptress: light-footed, with a certain sway in her hips, with a pert tilt of her head and a playful sparkle in her eyes. She knew how to smile and how to look to mesmerize everyone. Men forgot how to breathe when Anne de Pisseleu’s eyes sparkled and seemed to shine even brighter than normal. She attracted and unnerved men around her; her voluptuous and pliant body, her beautiful face, and her enchanting smile made them incurably aroused and attached to her.

Anne de Pisseleu was a beautiful and intelligent creature. She was too beautiful, and nobody could have disputed that. Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly was beautiful to look at, passionate to the point of cruelty, intelligent and calculating in everything, intrepid in all situations, insolent in happiness, carrying skepticism as far as absolute doubt and passion as far as coldness. François knew that Anne didn’t possess the beautiful soul and heart of his first wife, Queen Claude of France, but he was still attracted to her.

A daughter of a nobleman of Picardy, Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly came to court in 1526 as a maid of honor to François’ mother Louise de Savoie, Duchess d’Angoulême. When King François returned from Spain in 1526, he first took Anne as his occasional lover and then as his official mistress, dismissing his first, long-term mistress Françoise de Foix, Countess de Châteaubriant. François didn’t have to pursue her for long as the young girl seemed to be quite willing to slide into the king’s bed sheets and didn’t show much resistance to his advances. Anne demonstrated how much attraction she had to the king, using all her stunning looks, deep intelligence, and sharp wit.

Since becoming the king’s official courtesan, Anne de Pisseleu had faced no competition from former Queen Eleanor, and held herself as the second Queen of France. She was always with François, being the first, and in the last several years the only, woman in the king’s bed, the first woman François danced with during the ball, and the second, after his sister Marguerite, woman with whom the king discussed various matters of politics. Anne de Pisseleu cultivated poets and championed various artists, sharing her royal lover’s great interests in art. The French court was split into factions between those who supported Prince Charles, Duke d’Orléans, as well as Anne and her circle, and those who supported Dauphin Henri and his lover Diane de Poitiers, including Anne de Montmorency. Anne was among those who championed Prince Charles and her own interests.

François eyed his mistress again, thinking about their past and the present. He was confused as he had always liked Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly, but now, strangely, he didn’t want her company on his trip to Venice. François was a little bored with Anne de Pisseleu. He was bored even with the wild passion that simmered between them every time they were alone in the bedchamber, when they danced, or when they were simply close to one another like now in the carriage.

However, now the king wanted tenderness and softness, not mere passion, and it was an unusual discovery for him. She hadn’t changed, but something had changed in him. He didn’t love her as much as he had loved her previously. In recent times, he began to question whether he had ever loved her genuinely. He might have been able to laugh at himself, if he hadn’t been so appalled that he questioned his own love for his beautiful and intelligent mistress. Even several months ago he was sure he loved her but his current feelings were strange to him. François smiled unassumingly at Anne. “No, you are not, Anne. You will go back to Turin and will wait for me there,” he instructed.

The mistress darted a significant glance at the king. “But, Your Majesty…”

François smiled with a warmer smile and took her small-boned hand in his. “Anne, I will be very busy in Venice and don’t want to be distracted. Please go back to Turin. It will be better.”

“I will gladly obey Your Majesty.” Anne forced herself to maintain a dignified posture of her body and demure facial expression, though she felt rodents gnawing at the bottom of her heart.

François smiled at his paramour. “Thank you.”

Anne de Pisseleu knew that if she asked why she had been ordered to leave for Turin, François would tell her not to meddle into his important political deals. Duchess d’Étampes knew that King François was attracted to her beauty and her intelligence. It was true that Anne de Pisseleu often influenced some of François’ decisions, but these decisions were rather insignificant and minor, even if they were of a political nature. He often listened to her and appreciated her opinion, but the final world was always with him. He didn’t like it if she openly meddled in his deals because he didn’t wish to let her have a great influence over him in military matters or in general politics. Duchess d’Étampes accepted that, because she loved the king and because it was ultimately better for her.