Free Reluctant Queen: Tudor Historical Novel About Mary Rose Tudor, the Defiant Little Sister of King Henry VIII by Geraldine Evans Page B

said, but he was already an accomplished seducer.
    Mary had scoffed at this, saying that Francis wouldn’t dare to try to seduce her. Was she not the Queen of France and his mother-in-law?
    Lady Guildford had replied that Francis was a young man who would dare much, especially for such a conquest as Mary. That she was his Queen and married to King Louis would be more likely to spur him on than otherwise.
    Mary forgot Lady Guildford’s counsel and the eyes full of reproof each time she danced past. She had been forced to sacrifice the love of her life, so why shouldn’t she console herself in pleasurable dancing? The admiration she had received had gone a long way to bolstering her confidence and had resigned her a little more to the French marriage. She let herself hope that a Louis so easily tired by a few dances would be happy just to have her as a companion. He might even be relieved that his young bride expected nothing more from him. The sight of him looking so old and worn encouraged this hope.
    The evening’s gaiety continued far into the night, lit by the flames from the candles and the fire they sparked from Francis’ eyes.
     
     
    Across the river, in the poorer quarters of the town, other flames were flickering, concealed from the court by the thickly curtained windows. A small fire had started in one of the many wooden hovels. Increasingly high winds fanned the flames till they had consumed a large part of the district. The flames spread with terrifying speed and the people ran about hysterically hither and thither in their panic to escape the all-devouring flames. Their homes destroyed, many were lucky to escape with their lives and the rags on their backs.
    Others weren’t so fortunate. Their cries for help went unheard. The King’s pleasures were not to be disturbed, so the tocsins were forbidden to ring to summon the desperately-needed help. Mary danced on, happily unaware of this latest tragedy her arrival in France had brought.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Mary opened her eyes to greet her wedding day. The ball and its pleasures forgotten, she remembered only the importance of her new role. As her brother and Wolsey had impressed on her, not only was she now Queen of France, she was the first English princess to carry the title since the Norman Conquest over four hundred years before. That she was to be married on the day of St Denis, France’s patron saint, imbued the day not only with an historical significance, but a saintly one, also, and added to the weight of expectations of her.
    Nervously conscious of what would be expected of her, her anxieties weren’t helped by the fact that her limbs felt heavy and reluctant and that her head swam from the quantity of wine she had unwisely drunk the night before. Mary consoled herself with the thought that she was unlikely to be the first Queen of France to greet her formal wedding day suffering from a gueule de bois after drinking too much wine.
    There was no escaping it now. The day had already begun. Mary forced herself from the bed as she heard muffled whisperings beyond the bed-curtains. It was still early, but the day was bright and made her blink. Now, with the realisation of the onerous ceremonies the day would bring, and the reckoning for the previous night’s pleasures called in, she wished her dancing had been a little less abandoned, her drinking more abstemious. But the ball had gone on till late and yesterday, she had been only too willing to give herself to its pleasures. No doubt Lady Guildford would tell her such regrets were the result of foolish self-indulgence and that if she had paid heed to her wise words yesterday she would have retired earlier to be fresh for today. It didn’t help that the lady would have the right of it.
    Mary and her party had been lodged on the corner of the street leading from the Castle of Ponthieu to the Rue St Giles. A temporary gallery had been made to connect it to the Hotel Gruthuse, the king’s quarters.