Reaching the top of their respective hillocks at the entrance to the valley, each king stopped. At the sound of trumpets and sackbuts they galloped down the mounts and into the valley towards each other. Taking their caps off with a grand flourish, Henry and Francois embraced each other, still a-horse, although the English bay danced nervously, bringing the embrace to a quick close. Then, dismounting, arm in arm they entered a small pavilion that had been set up for their meeting, thus avoiding the sticky issue of which king should go first. Inside there were chairs, cushions, and refreshments. Once inside, the two kings were joined by Cardinal Wolsey and the French admiral Bonnivet. The articles of the meeting were read out, as were Henry’s titles, including King of France.
Henry Tudor laughed. “I fear that the presence ofmon frèreFrancois would invalidate that particular title,” he said, clapping his French counterpart on the back jovially. “And one day our children will make this ancient argument between England and France a moot point, eh?” And he laughed heartily once again.
The two men sat for some time drinking and talking. Finally they arose, went outside once again to the cheers of both parties of onlookers, embraced several more times, and parted, each to return to his own encampment. The sounds of the English oboes and sackbuts and the French flutes and drums filled the air as they went. And for the next few weeks there was feasting and jousting such as few had ever seen.
Philippa barely saw her husband during this time, for her place was with the queen. She hardly slept in their own comfortable pavilion, as she was expected to remain in the queen’s great tent at her mistress’s command. She returned to change her clothes, and among all the English ladies she was the best dressed, according to Guy-Paul St. Claire.
She would have been considered well dressed among the French, he declared gallantly. The English thought the French ladies’ gowns, with their open, low necklines, immodest. The ambassadors from Venice and Mantua thought the French more elegant with few exceptions, but much admired the beautiful gold chains that all of the English ladies seemed to possess. They also remarked that the English ladies drank too much.
On the tenth day of June, the king of France came to pay his respects to Queen Katherine. A banquet was given in his honor, and the choir from the Chapel Royal entertained the guests. Philippa had chosen to wear a gown of green and gold brocade with full sleeves of gold tissue that ended at the wrists in tight bejeweled bands. Her neckline was as fashionable as any French woman’s, and caused some whispering among the other women. The countess of Witton smiled to herself, well pleased. Her hair had been fashioned into a chignon at the nape of her neck, and was decorated with fresh flowers. Not even the French could match her daring style. Upon her head she wore a small gold tissue cap that was sewn with pearls.
The French king had spotted Philippa immediately, and asked among his attendants who she was.
“She is the countess of Witton,” Guy-Paul St. Claire told his master. “She is my English cousin’s new wife, sire.”
“Is she French-born?” Francois asked.
“Non. Indeed she is from the far north of England,” the comte de Renard said.
“Mon Dieu!”Francois exclaimed. “How did such a lovely girl gain such style?”
“I could not tell you, sire,” the comte answered. “I have only just met her myself.”
“I should like to meet her,” the king said, his black eyes narrowing speculatively.
“I think I could arrange it,” Guy-Paul St. Claire murmured. “I am certain that madame la comtesse would be honored, sire.” Now here was a stroke of good fortune, he thought to himself. He did not believe that Crispin’s wife was foolish enough to allow herself to be seduced by his king, but he could certainly gain a small social credit with the king by introducing them. What happened afterward would happen. And Francois was known to be very persuasive where the ladies were concerned. Mayhap he could seduce her. Whatever transpired, it was unlikely the lady would escape totally unscathed. There were many women eager to be seduced by the king of France. One who refused his king would present a challenge, and the comte de Renard knew Francois loved a challenge. But either way, the king would enjoy himself.
“Do so then,” his master replied; then he turned away to smile at his hostess who was even now saying she should like to present her ladies to him. Francois nodded pleasantly, and greeted each of the one hundred and thirty women brought before him with the traditional French dual kiss. Among those ladies was the lovely countess of Witton who curtseyed deeply, revealing a pair of quite magnificent breasts to his eye as she did so. His hands on her shoulders as he kissed her lingered perhaps just a trifle too long. But he also considered that Anne Chambers, another of the queen’s ladies, was quite lovely.
Philippa moved away and found herself in the company of her husband’s cousin once more.
“Cousine.”He smiled toothily at her. “How lovely you are today. My master the king was even now remarking upon it. Would you like to be introduced to him,chérie?”
“I have already been presented by the queen,” Philippa said. She was considering if she liked Crispin’s cousin or not.
“Non, non,”the comte de Renard replied. “My master indeed remarked upon your beauty to me, wondering who you were. Fortunately I was able to enlighten him since you are my cousin’s wife. He has expressed his interest in spending a private moment with you.”
“Amid all this hubbub?” Philippa looked disbelieving. “What you mean,mon cherGuy-Paul, is that your king would like to seduce me. His reputation precedes him, I fear, and I have been a courtier far too long not to know when a man is bent upon seduction. Were I still a maid the answer would be no. However, even though I be a married woman, the answer is still no.” And she laughed. “Do not look so disappointed,monbrave. Did you really believe I should accept such an invitation?” No, she decided, she did not like Guy-Paul St. Claire, but she would be polite to him for Crispin’s sake.
He looked downcast for a moment, but then he said, “Since you are more than aware of my king’s behavior,chérie,you should be in no danger. Crispin tells me that your mama is a good friend of both your king and your queen. Would it not be of value to you to make a friend of France’s king?”
Philippa laughed. “To what purpose, Guy-Paul? If I do not allow myself to be seduced I shall offend King Francois. And I most certainly would not allow myself to be tempted by any man other than my husband, who is your cousin. Do you think that Crispin would approve of your pandering his wife to the king of France?”
The comte de Renard looked deeply offended at her words. “One never knows, madame,” he said, “when one will need a friend in high places. If not for yourself, then for your family. You will have children one day. And Crispin tells me that your mother is involved quite successfully in the merchant trade. Are not your friends her friends? Could having a king of France as an acquaintance not be of help to you one day?”
“I would say you speak wisdom, were I not suspicious of your motives, Guy-Paul. Why on earth would the king of France want to meet me except for the purpose of seduction? And why would you offer up your cousin’s wife to him?”Yet, Philippa thought, if she could make a friend of this king without compromising her virtue it might be of value to her family one day Would it really hurt to attempt such a thing? She didn’t have to succumb to a seduction, after all.
“Madame, you are far too suspicious of me, and I am hurt that you would be. I offer you, an English country girl if the truth be known, the opportunity to meet a king of great renown. What stories you will have to tell your children and your grandchildren one day. That a king of France admired you. That he sought to seduce you, and you resisted, yet kept his friendship. And yes, my king will owe me a small debt for bringing him the beautiful woman he admired. But he would never put your refusal at my door. He is not that kind of man. And you, I believe, are clever enough to keep his amity and goodwill, which cannot do harm to Crispin.”
Philippa was forced to laugh. “You are, I think, a very bad man, Guy-Paul St. Claire. You reason as well as Thomas More, although he is far more godly than you are or will ever be. If I agreed to meet King Francois, when and where would it be?”
The comte de Renard struggled to contain his glee. He had believed that by appealing to her intellect and her devotion to her family he would eventually bring her around to his way of thinking. Yet there was a moment he thought she might refuse him.
“I will not meet him at night,” Philippa quickly said. “And it must be sometime when Crispin is otherwise occupied. He would forbid me, as you are well aware. Then I would be angry, and probably do something foolish,” she finished with a small smile. “Better I tell him after the fact than before it that I have met your king. And he might be angry at you, Guy-Paul. Have you considered that?”
“Perhaps one afternoon after the jousting, and before the evening’s entertainment,” the comte suggested helpfully. He ignored her other words.
“Aye, that would be a good time,” Philippa answered him. “Crispin is usually with his gentlemen friends then.”
