I lay awake, unmoving and listening to the sounds of birds stirring outside. It was too early for them to begin their song yet, with the sky still pitch black. The colours of my dreams were too bright, the birdsong too vivid, I could not remain asleep. I had spent the night tossing and turning, trying to fumble my way into unconsciousness; I could not. I had slept for the last time a maiden; my wedding day promised that I would wake tomorrow as a married woman should.
The thought did not frighten me. I knew the man I was marrying, François and I had grown up together after all. We were not strangers and we had been promised to each other for ten years, that was enough time to get used to the idea. We loved each other too, which was more than …show more content…
It will be white, how I love white. Like a blooming-"
“White is the colour of solemnity, of mourning. It would be bad luck.” His voice a slice, a closing door. I never liked closing doors.
“I don’t believe in such things. White is my colour, my chosen colour.” My voice negating his. “I look the best in white; my dear friend Brantôme says so. He says, ‘the whiteness of my face rivals the whiteness of my veil.’”
“Your Majesty, it is not just about you; your actions affect others. What will the people of France think of you breaking such a sacred tradition? I urge you to consider a colour other than your favoured white,”
But the Cardinal had given up quickly, realising that to refuse a queen or attempt to persuade her would not work. Again when I had summoned the court tailor and described the dress I wanted, he too had argued.
“No, no, Your Royal Highness, here in France white is the colour of mourning. It will not do for a wedding gown! May I suggest blue, blue like the colour of the sky in the summer-“ His hand toward me outflung now, a placation.
Inside me a bud unfurled. “You may suggest,” I had told him with a smile, “but I insist on …show more content…
The bedding ceremony, a rite of all royal marriages. Without witnesses to the consummation of the royal marriage, it could never be proven that we had laid together as husband and wife. This could give grounds for the annulment of our marriage and, should François die without issue, render my position at court uncertain.
The witnesses stood like sentinels near the bed, our bodies clearly visible to them through the sheer curtains around the bed. I felt uncomfortable, having men who were not my husband looking at me. Even having François seeing me so vulnerable was new and not yet welcomed. I was now their future queen, and I knew it was only customary. Without their watchful eyes, I would be in more trouble than needed in the future. Questions about the legitimacy of my marriage would arise, and I knew that as a queen this is a circumstance which I would have to abide by.
The curtains around us were drawn, creating a thin barrier between my husband and I. What do I do now? Noting my hesitation, this François put his arms around me and kissed me delicately. “Now you are mine, and no one can take you away.” Still his words could not calm me enough to feel completely comfortable with this situation. All I could focus on was their eyes, watching
The thought did not frighten me. I knew the man I was marrying, François and I had grown up together after all. We were not strangers and we had been promised to each other for ten years, that was enough time to get used to the idea. We loved each other too, which was more than …show more content…
It will be white, how I love white. Like a blooming-"
“White is the colour of solemnity, of mourning. It would be bad luck.” His voice a slice, a closing door. I never liked closing doors.
“I don’t believe in such things. White is my colour, my chosen colour.” My voice negating his. “I look the best in white; my dear friend Brantôme says so. He says, ‘the whiteness of my face rivals the whiteness of my veil.’”
“Your Majesty, it is not just about you; your actions affect others. What will the people of France think of you breaking such a sacred tradition? I urge you to consider a colour other than your favoured white,”
But the Cardinal had given up quickly, realising that to refuse a queen or attempt to persuade her would not work. Again when I had summoned the court tailor and described the dress I wanted, he too had argued.
“No, no, Your Royal Highness, here in France white is the colour of mourning. It will not do for a wedding gown! May I suggest blue, blue like the colour of the sky in the summer-“ His hand toward me outflung now, a placation.
Inside me a bud unfurled. “You may suggest,” I had told him with a smile, “but I insist on …show more content…
The bedding ceremony, a rite of all royal marriages. Without witnesses to the consummation of the royal marriage, it could never be proven that we had laid together as husband and wife. This could give grounds for the annulment of our marriage and, should François die without issue, render my position at court uncertain.
The witnesses stood like sentinels near the bed, our bodies clearly visible to them through the sheer curtains around the bed. I felt uncomfortable, having men who were not my husband looking at me. Even having François seeing me so vulnerable was new and not yet welcomed. I was now their future queen, and I knew it was only customary. Without their watchful eyes, I would be in more trouble than needed in the future. Questions about the legitimacy of my marriage would arise, and I knew that as a queen this is a circumstance which I would have to abide by.
The curtains around us were drawn, creating a thin barrier between my husband and I. What do I do now? Noting my hesitation, this François put his arms around me and kissed me delicately. “Now you are mine, and no one can take you away.” Still his words could not calm me enough to feel completely comfortable with this situation. All I could focus on was their eyes, watching