In the Shadow of the Crown by Jean Plaidy Page A

beautiful…at least not in the conventional way. But there was something distinctive about her. When I came to compare her with the other ladies, it seemed that there was a uniformity about them and often one could mistake one for another. Thatcould never happen to this girl. No one else looked in the least like her. Her dark hair fell to her waist. Her enormous eyes were sparkling and luminous; her dress was not exactly in the fashion of the day and yet it was more stylish. It had long hanging sleeves and there was a jewel on a band about her neck. I was even more struck by the grace with which she moved.
    I noticed that people watched her all the time. I believed they were whispering about her. I meant to ask someone who she was, but I had not done so at that stage.
    She seemed a little reluctant to dance but, of course, she could not refuse the King.
    The music was playing. The King took her hand, and the dance began. The French ambassador asked me to dance and we fell in behind the King and his partner.
    I WAS ALONE with my mother. Such occasions were rare and therefore very precious to me. She told me how proud she was of me. My father was pleased; the French were satisfied; they would carry back a good report of me to the King.
    She said suddenly, “The Emperor has become a father.”
    I stared at her. I felt my face harden.
    She went on, “He has a son…a little boy. He is to be called Philip after the Emperor's father. I wonder if he will be as handsome.”
    I was silent. I could not speak.
    My mother took my hand and gripped it. I saw the tears on her cheeks.
    “Dear Mother,” I began, dropping formality. I stood up and put my arms about her. It seemed as if that were the wrong thing to do, for the tears came faster.
    She said, “He has been married such a short time and already he has a son. Why cannot…? Why? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Why is God punishing me?”
    I said, “You have me…”
    Then she began to weep openly. “You mean more to me, my daughter, than any son could mean, except…except…You see, your father wants sons. Oh, you will have to know sooner or later. How much longer can it be kept from you?”
    “Tell me, Mother, tell me,” I begged.
    “But you are a child still…”
    “The envoys thought I was far from stupid.”
    She stroked my hair. “You are my clever daughter. I want you to know that I love you. It has been my great sorrow that we have had to be apart so often.”
    “I always understood,” I told her, kissing her hand. “Please tell me. Perhaps I can comfort you.”
    “Your father would be rid of me.”
    “But…no…how…?”
    “He seeks means. He says he is afraid our marriage is no true marriage and that is why I have been unable to give him sons.”
    “But you are the Queen…”
    “You know I was married before.”
    “Yes, to Prince Arthur. Everyone knows.”
    “In the Bible it says that if a man marries his brother's widow the union shall be childless.”
    “But why…?”
    “It is said to be unclean. Again and again I have told him that I was never Arthur's wife in the true sense.”
    “And you are not childless. You have me… and there were others.”
    “You, my dearest, are the only one who survived and you are a girl.”
    “I see, he thinks God is punishing him for disobeying His Laws.”
    “I would never disobey God's Laws. I was never Arthur's wife. Your father is the only man I have known as a husband.”
    “You have told him that.”
    “A thousand times.”
    “Dearest Mother, do not grieve. Everyone will understand.”
    “Your father is determined. He says he must have a son…a legitimate son. And the only way he can do that is by ridding himself of me.”
    I was puzzled. It seemed impossible to me. My mother was the Queen. My father was married to her, so how could he marry someone else in order to get a son?
    I said, “I know he wants a son. All rulers do. They despise our sex. It is very sad. But my father is married