La Petite Boulain

by G Lawrence

  No, there was a lot of caution to be observed for a lady such as I. Marguerite may have the protection of her royal brother for her and her circle, but that did not mean it was advisable to speak of these matters to just anyone. I had to save my ideas on any questions raised from those books for the ears of Marguerite alone.

  Some would later say that Marguerite harboured heretical ideas, but she was as devout as she was clever. She was no heretic. This was why she enjoyed the idea that I put forward; that to love is to question and therefore understand. She believed wholly in God and the Catholic faith, but she also thought there was always room to improve anything. She did not accept anyone’s words blindly, and that included priests, cardinals and the Pope himself. She was possibly, in her heart, the purest person I had known. She was not without fault, but her faults did not lie in heresy, rather in the other direction. She wanted so much to improve our relationship with God that she was willing to brave the displeasure of Church leaders to bring forth new ideas. Her household became a haven for free thinkers and philosophers. Many in the Church reviled her for it; believing that any who questioned their power should be destroyed. They were the ones who sought to call this good woman a heretic; they were the ones who sought to blacken her name. Such is the lot of many good people who dare to question the power of the Church. Men who had become powerful because of their positions in the Church feared people like Marguerite. But if they had simply taken the time to listen to reformers, many things about this world would be different. Those who wanted reform wanted to work with the Church, not against it, at least to begin with… the changes and the fractures which would appear in the very fabric of the Church and its followers were already starting to show… they would lead later to much change in all of Christendom.

  During my time with Marguerite, I thought often that it would help the Church as a whole if more of its priests and leaders read and conversed on books as much as Marguerite did.

  Since the previous year, Marguerite had been largely concerned with the reform of convents in France; helping to mend the sloppy ways that had taken hold and turning the attention of the inhabitants back to the glory of God. It was her passion to ensure these convents were run for the glory of God, rather than as an easy resting place for lesser children of noble houses.

  There was corruption in many spheres of the Church, but to Marguerite this was something to be addressed and changed, not allowed to stay and fester. It was this reform of convents that had led her on to thinking of reforms in other matters; she was a great asset to her country, being a wise physical and spiritual presence in the world.

  She opened my mind to a whole new world of possibility and philosophy.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  1520

  The Field of the Cloth of Gold

  The Val d’Or, Calais

  Neutral territory between English held Guisnes, and French held Ardres

  There came an event in this year that would never again be surpassed in greatness or wonder. It was a phenomenon of the modern world, a spectacle of magnificence; it was the physical manifestation of a battle of pride between two kings. It was the biggest boast of all time, made material and given physical form.

  It came to be called The Field of the Cloth of Gold.

  I, amongst others, was fortunate enough to be present at this event. It was a meeting of the Kings of France and England under a new banner of peace and friendship. The Kings were united in a declaration of peace; the French Dauphin was betrothed to the English Princess, and the two Kings were united as brothers against the Emperor Charles of Spain and the Hapsburg territories. They were sworn to protect each other’s countries with fraternal love and eternal loyalty.

  Of course, we all believed little of this grand talk, really. Many treaties were made and then broken from one country to another. But as the opportunity arose for King Henry of England, and King François of France to meet in person, they found they could not resist the idea.

  The new treaty was merely an excuse for the two Kings, much alike in age and accomplishments, to finally see each other. Both were described as being handsome, learned and virile. They were but three years apart from each other in age. They were curious about each other, and that curiosity could not be sated by portraits, letters or dispatches. They had to see each other in the flesh, to compare themselves each to the other in person. Reports were given to us that the King of England had frequently questioned ambassadors on the physical attributes of the French King. One conversation was relayed to us in detail.

  “The King of France, is he as tall as I am?” Henry had asked the court ambassadors.

  The ambassadors had replied that there was little in difference between the two of them, both being tall men. This clearly had not pleased Henry, since he was often noted for his great height, for he then asked, “Is he stout?” the ambassadors answered that François was not stout, but lean and strong.

  “What sort of legs has he?” asked Henry, seemingly desperate to find something to best his rival with.

  “They are somewhat spare, Your Majesty,” the ambassadors spoke truly, for François’ legs were not his best attributes. At this, the English King had beamed, pulled aside the edges of his rich doublet and clapped his hand on his solid thigh.

  “Look here!” the young King exclaimed, “I have a good calf to my leg!”

  The ambassadors then apparently had to spend a while laughing, and admiring the legs of the English King. And whilst François might have bellowed with laughter to hear of the vanity of the English King, he himself was no less eager to compare himself to Henry.

  Each King was simply dying to best the other, to out-do the other, and both were quite interested, obviously, to see how they compared personally to the other. In short, they were so close in character and accomplishments that they would become either the best of friends, or the worst of enemies. We would have to wait to see which would prevail.

  And see we would, for this was not just a meeting of kings and a few attendants. The Field of the Cloth of Gold was to be a great coming together of two entire courts. François and Henry were both bringing thousands of courtiers, nobles and servants to the meeting. This was to be an event like no other; the greatest state meeting of two kings, two courts and two peoples for eons to come.

  The meeting became known as The Field of the Cloth of Gold mainly because of the copious and profligate display of wealth that both countries brought to the field. Nobles attended the event only at ludicrous expense. Every lord and lady wore the newest and most expensive clothing at all occasions, and jewels were as common as pebbles on the ground. Good horse, rich foods, and tents made of silver and gold marked every turn of the event. Several of Henry’s nobles bankrupted themselves in the effort to dress and entertain as their King expected them to. Henry of England had to cut his nobles vast breaks in their taxes to the Crown to allow them to recover from this ostentatious show of wealth. It took the royal house of France ten years to pay back all the bills incurred by the event, so, perhaps you start to grasp the scale of the occasion.

  There was no palace or castle in England or France that could hold the sheer volume of people that were going to attend to this meeting. It was rumoured that King Henry alone was bringing a personal retinue of five thousand people, which we were much amazed at. François, not to be outdone by his rival, proclaimed he would bring as many attendants, if not more, and each Queen would have over a thousand attendants also. This was a meeting beyond any scale that can be imagined and the only way to accommodate all these people was to construct a camp for them.

  We were to meet where the English territory of Calais met French territories. Neutral ground… in theory at least.

  In some ways this would be like a military operation with all of the French, and English courts staying in tents. In other ways, since the tents were made of cloth of gold and silver, and were outstanding in their sumptuousness, it was nothing of the sort.

  Louise of Savoy was
busy choosing the best and the brightest of the court ladies to accompany Claude, herself and Margaret to the meeting. Whilst numbers clearly mattered, so did manners. None were taken who were not up to the challenge of out-doing the English court ladies in beauty, manner, talents and breeding. It was an honour to be chosen, as I was.

  We were confident that we should dazzle more than the ladies of the English Court. But to be sure, we were all charged to make and order fine new clothes, to practise our music and dancing and to rehearse our English, so that we might charm our guests by speaking in their own language. French was often the language used at the English Court, for it was considered the more cultured tongue, but if we ladies of the French Court could turn our tongues to the language of the English, then we would have one more skill to set on a peg above the English Court. Seeing that English was not difficult for me, I spent some time tutoring other ladies who were not as proficient as a native-born speaker. We would out-do them; we were utterly determined to.

  It did occur to me that I was in a unique position; as should the English outshine the French, I would be on the winning side since I was English. Something which, to be fair, I had almost forgotten during my time in France. Should the reverse happen, I should still be triumphant, as I was a member of the French Court. I liked that kind of wager.

  The Field of the Cloth of Gold came into our sights as we rode towards it; gold and silver cloth stretching for miles before us so that the whole valley shone as though it held the sun within its depths. A field of gold indeed; where no wheat nor grain grew in the lush valley, but where richness and wealth were tended instead. It was quite blinding in the sunlight. The camp of over three thousand tents had taken weeks to construct. Hundreds of men had worked ceaselessly to bring about this wonder, and each king had poured more money than any man could count into ensuring that his camp was the most impressive. Even so, not all of those who followed on the tail of the Kings could be placed in a tent or in nearby castles and estates; some ladies and lords of the court stayed with farmers in the area, and some, whose titles did not buy them a bed in this vast crowd, laid their heads upon beds of straw and hay wherever they could find a space.

  Tents and pavilions shone gold and silver in the sunlight, jousting fields with freshly painted poles glimmered white and green, blue and silver. Hundreds of beasts for feasting on were held in the farms and valleys about the camps and vast kitchens, housed in tents of red and gold, rang with the noise of the seemingly impossible task of making food for so many thousands of people.

  We sat on our horses at the top of that green hill and gazed silently on the wonders that our modern world had created. This spectacle was the greatest I thought I had seen, until one in the Queen’s party let out a short, surprised shout, pointing further into the mass of golden and silver tents. Beyond the French encampment was the English. We could see it in the distance. In amongst their tents of gold and silver cloth stood the impossible; a huge and beautiful castle! But there was no castle on this land, and there had been not enough time to build one. How had the English done such a thing?

  Claude looked both amazed and somewhat amused. Her husband’s tent was a huge and beautiful construction of gold and silver cloth, lined with tapestries, with many rooms; its roof was lined with blue velvet and silver stars, imitating the skies of the night. We had all seen the plans for it, it was a grand invention. But somehow the English had constructed a whole castle! This was a feat of greatness indeed and it was such a beautiful castle. Designed in the Italian style its face was red and white plaster, and turrets of black and gold and white stood upon it, stretching to the skies. The gateway was surmounted by the royal arms of the English, Tudor roses and a huge shining golden stature of Cupid. Great statues of noble beasts stood outside the castle, lining the route to its huge wooden gates upon giant poles, painted in bright stripes of green and white, the colours of the Tudors. More great beasts stood out, too, on the turrets of the castle and heraldic flags flew, billowing gently in the light breeze. Glorious works of decoration, knots and badges, devices of the English King and Queen lined the outside of the castle walls. There were the pomegranates of Queen Katherine’s badge and the lions and roses of the Tudors entwined with the initials H and K. Here and there, the badge of the pomegranate was marked with an emerging symbol of a little rose, showing the addition to the English royal house of the living daughter born to Katherine and Henry. Whilst she was a princess, rather than a prince as her father so desired, at least she was a living child and heir to the English throne. Many worried that the royal couple had only a daughter to succeed them and there was much fear within England of what might happen if a woman came to the throne in place of a man. All in England hoped that the living daughter of the King and Queen may prove yet to foreshadow male heirs to come.

  But we were not thinking of such things of the future then; we were staring at the castle.

  The castle was a work of beauty, and shining huge windows of glass poured the light of the sun back towards us, as we stared in open-mouthed wonder at the brilliance of the English and their King. There was but one question on our lips… How had they managed to build such a castle so quickly?

  No one said anything for a while, but we gazed admiringly on this palace. There was silence apart from the horses, who sighed and huffed, longing to continue on their paths. In the silence of admiration, I felt pride in my native country, once of course, that pride had made it past the sense of French resentment that also rose in my heart! Such complicated emotions came to me as I looked on this castle, along with great admiration for the English King who had brought such wonders to pass.

  But how had the English done it? It was a simpler explanation than we imagined. For the palace that we sat admiring was not wholly made of stone. It was made of wood, timber and brick, but painted to look like stone and mortar. The walls were not as thick as they seemed and although stone chimneys graced the rooftops, most of the castle was made of wood; it was a lie, a feint, it was like a castle made for an entertainment or a pageant at court, just on a much larger scale. It was constructed to draw wonder and amazement, and it did its job well. I don’t think any of us could have been more amazed to see such a wonder, and from a distance, you would not have been able to tell that it was not made of thick, solid stone.

  Later, we were told of the trick, and some were allowed to see inside it. The palace had real windows and two floors. There was a great banqueting chamber and separate privy apartments for the English King and Queen and their young daughter Mary. There were chambers for entertainments and an alley for bowling, a sport becoming popular at this time; a chapel, and apartments for the Dowager Queen Mary, now Duchess of Suffolk, and her husband Brandon. There were more chambers; for Cardinal Wolsey, Lord Chancellor to the King, and housing for all his servants. The inside of the palace was furnished with carpets of Turkish work, tapestries and painted cloth, beds of estate, and great glass cupboards for the display of plate. At the front of the palace there stood two huge fountains that flowed with malmsey and claret wine, given freely to all who came to them with goblets eagerly in hand. It was a clever trick; one which Henry no doubt had great glee in devising, for the whole thing, this massive show of costly pageantry was of course planned and designed by him. It must have cost a king’s fortune to construct and it was done in perfect secrecy.

  We rode down the hill and the first meeting of the two Kings happened as though it was entirely informal. To the sound of ringing cannon fire, trumpets and drums, the two Kings rode towards each other and embraced as friends and brothers whilst still on horseback; we all applauded. Every eye was sparkling, for this was to be a time of great festivities and celebrations. Although we all knew that peace is easily made and easily broken between kings, we all entered into the spirit of happiness that was on offer. There were to be pageants and tournaments, there were dances, jousts and masques and each camp was desperate to outdo the other. Such a spirit of competition was exhilarating and intoxicating
.

  And for me there were yet more pleasures to be found, for amongst the English were people I had longed to see for some time; my father, my sister and her new husband, my brother, and my mother.

  I had not seen my brother or my mother for almost five years. When I left them I had been but a child, and now I was a young, accomplished and elegant lady-in-waiting to the Queen of France. I was eighteen when I came to The Field of the Cloth of Gold and my family, even my father who had seen me fleetingly at various court functions, barely recognised me.

  I went to them in their tents on the English side when Claude granted me time away. George was so changed I hardly knew him. He had grown into such a handsome and accomplished young man and I was so pleased to find that he and I had much in common. He had done well at court and was now a page in the King’s household. George had been with the Duke of Buckingham for some years until the King had noticed him, enjoyed his humour and easy ways, and asked that he join his own household.

  George was here as father’s official attendant, but was also called upon to work in the King’s household in the make-believe castle. George had become a gifted poet and we traded lines and wrote for each other. At first each of us was so polite that we got nowhere, but soon we were picking each others’ lines apart and improving our writing to no end through careful and correct critique. George was also interested in theology and reform. We had many whispered conversations on the value of Martin Luther’s arguments, as well as conversation on other banned texts. I was acquiring these volumes through Marguerite, and George was having them shipped to him secretly through our father’s connections abroad. Our father, it seemed, was also of the same thinking as George and I; he believed in reform. It was fine to find, despite the distance between us and the time passed since we last met, that George and I were so close in our ways of thinking.