Rouen, January 1522
There are many more weeks of bluster and posturing, but eventually, the Treaty of Rouen is hammered out into a shape that, while not exactly universally satisfactory, is at least a workable compromise.
Charles begrudgingly agrees to pay Henry and Francis 60,000 marks each and wed Marguerite in exchange for his freedom. The total ransom of 120,000 marks is surprisingly small, given how rich and powerful the Holy Roman Emperor is, but it is more than clear that, in exchange for this show of mercy, he will be expected to take Marguerite as his wife without a dowry. Charles also has to surrender any pretentions he might have of reconquering Milan for the Sforzas.
Francis annexes the counties of Hainault and Artois to France, but also agrees to stop supporting Henri of Navarre and accept Spanish sovereignty over the tiny kingdom.
Henry takes a strip of Burgundian land along the coast, extending the Pale of Calais as far as Bruges, as well as winning his daughter the title of Duchess of Milan and Orleans, by virtue of her betrothal to her younger cousin Henri. Crucially for the English wool trade, he also wins his merchants free trade in both France and the Empire.
There are those who wonder at Henry’s willingness to return Antwerp and Rotterdam to Charles’s hands, particularly the latter, which was won purely by the blood, sweat and toil of Englishmen. But then, they don’t know about the secret agreement he has struck with Francis behind Charles’s back.
“Send Wolsey to us as soon as you’ve given him his instructions,” Marie whispers, as she embraces Henry at his lavish farewell banquet shortly after Christmas, “We’ll give him gold and tokens aplenty to ease his way in Rome. And we’ll send Cardinal Lorraine with him. “The Pope won’t be able to resist
two cardinals pleading your cause.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear, sweet sister,” Henry replies, returning her embrace.
A moment later, he freezes.
“Mary?” His hands tighten on her waist and she hisses in surprise.
“How did you-? I’m not even sure
myself yet! I can only be two months at most.
Maybe three, if I conceived the very night you returned!”
“Of course you did. Everyone knows Francis only has to look at you to get you pregnant. As for how I knew? I’m your older brother. I know everything about you.”
Marie laughs and swats him for his cheek, then pulls him on to the dance floor before Francis can ask what they are whispering about. She’s not quite ready to give up this secret just yet.