When Knighthood Was in Flower: or, the Love Story of Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor the King's Sister, and Happening in the Reign of His August Majesty King Henry the EighthMajor, Charles
History
When Knighthood Was in Flower: or, the Love Story of Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor the King's Sister, and Happening in the Reign of His August Majesty King Henry the Eighth
Major, Charles
Great Britain -- History -- Henry VIII, 1509-1547 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Love stories; Mary, Queen, consort of Louis XII, King of France, 1496-1533 -- Fiction; Suffolk, Charles Brandon, Duke of, approximately 1484-1545 -- Fiction
Quick as a flash came the answer: "I can not say of what consequence
the Princess Mary is about the court; it is not my place to determine
such matters. I am sure, however, she is not here, for I doubt not she
would have given a gentle answer to a message from the queen. I shall
continue my search." With this, he turned to leave, and the ladies,
including Jane, who was there and saw it all and told me of it,
awaited the bolt they knew would come, for they saw the lightning
gathering in Mary's eyes.
Mary sprang to her feet with an angry flush in her face, exclaiming:
"Insolent fellow, I am the Princess Mary; if you have a message,
deliver it and be gone." You may be sure this sort of treatment was
such as the cool-headed, daring Brandon would repay with usury; so,
turning upon his heel and almost presenting his back to Mary, he spoke
to Lady Jane:
"Will your ladyship say to her highness that her majesty, the queen,
awaits her coming at the marble landing?"
"No need to repeat the message, Jane," cried Mary. "I have ears and
can hear for myself." Then turning to Brandon: "If your insolence will
permit you to receive a message from so insignificant a person as the
king's sister, I beg you to say to the queen that I shall be with her
presently."
He did not turn his face toward Mary, but bowed again to Jane.
"May I ask your ladyship further to say for me that if I have been
guilty of any discourtesy I greatly regret it. My failure to recognize
the Princess Mary grew out of my misfortune in never having been
allowed to bask in the light of her countenance. I cannot believe the
fault lies at my door, and I hope for her own sake that her highness,
on second thought, will realize how ungentle and unkind some one else
has been." And with a sweeping courtesy he walked quickly down the
path.
"The insolent wretch!" cried one.
"He ought to hold papers on the pillory," said another.
"Nothing of the sort," broke in sensible, fearless little Jane; "I
think the Lady Mary was wrong. He could not have known her by
inspiration."
"Jane is right," exclaimed Mary, whose temper, if short, was also
short-lived, and whose kindly heart always set her right if she but
gave it a little time. Her faults were rather those of education than
of nature. "Jane is right; it was what I deserved. I did not think
when I spoke, and did not really mean it as it sounded. He acted like
a man, and looked like one, too, when he defended himself. I warrant
the pope at Rome could not run over him with impunity. For once I have
found a real live man, full of manliness. I saw him in the lists at
Windsor a week ago, but the king said his name was a secret, and I
could not learn it. He seemed to know you, Jane. Who is he? Now tell
us all you know. The queen can wait."
And her majesty waited on a girl's curiosity.
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