In Defense of the Queen (10 page)

Parker took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders. It would help no one if he were to anger the King.

He let his gaze move to Bryan, and saw he was staring at him, mouth slightly open. “What is the charge?” He spoke softly, just out of the King’s hearing.

“Treason.” Parker looked directly into Bryan’s eyes as he spoke. He’d saved Bryan from a charge of treason not too long ago, and if anyone understood the fear and powerlessness that came with such an accusation, it should be him.

Bryan looked away and would not meet Parker’s eyes again.

“So that’s the way of it?” Parker murmured.

A flush crept up Bryan’s face, but he still would not look at Parker.

He would keep the King’s favour, no matter who he must shake off to do so. No matter what he owed those he abandoned.

Parker wondered how Bryan would treat his sister, now Elizabeth Carew was no longer the King’s mistress.

“Where is she kept in the Tower?” Henry turned from the window.

“Her Majesty bade the Captain take her to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings.”

“The Queen was present?” Henry’s attention sharpened, and for the first time he looked worried.

“She was.”

“When you said your lady was taken from the Queen’s Chambers, I did not realize . . .” Henry’s eyes narrowed. “What was your lady doing there?”

“She was presenting the Queen with a small portrait of your daughter, Your Majesty.”

Henry cocked his head to one side. “I must see it. I didn’t know the Queen had commissioned such a work. And it reminds me. Last night I asked Mistress Horenbout to paint my son, Fitzroy.” Henry slid back behind his desk and picked up his quill. “I will instruct the guards to give her leave to visit Fitzroy when she needs to.” He wrote quickly, sanded the page and rolled it. Sealed it with his crest. “And she can busy herself illuminating these writs and communications.” He indicated a box of scrolls.

“I will make sure she receives them.” Parker wanted to lift the box and smash it to the floor.

He picked it up carefully and tucked it under his arm. “Wolsey will try to move her to the dungeon. And when he’s done there, she will be lucky to ever lift a brush again.” Could his voice really stay so level, so cool, and say words like that? When they stuck, hard as an almond swallowed whole, in his throat.

Henry picked up his quill again, and began signing the papers Bryan had brought him. “Wolsey will answer to me, if that happens.”

“That may be.” Parker could hear the bleakness in his own voice. “But if it comes to that, it will be too late.”

Chapter Fifteen

Do not you think that if I were about any king, proposing good laws to him, and endeavouring to root out all the cursed seeds of evil that I found in him, I should either be turned out of his court, or, at least, be laughed at for my pains?

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

T
he men who came for her didn’t knock, but thanks to their number and their haste on the stairs, Susanna heard them coming and was ready.

She watched the small, tight group of men enter her rooms, and retreated, shaking, into the stairwell.

She’d been in the Bell Tower, to look at the bell. Otherwise she’d have been trapped in her chambers.

Wolsey would be behind this. Come to drag her from comfort to the place he’d had in mind for her from the start.

The White Tower dungeons.

Her heart beat faster just thinking the name.

She could not go back up the Bell Tower. If they came looking for her there, there would be no escape. She lifted her skirts and ran silently to her chamber door. Pressed herself against the wall.

Men were moving furniture, cursing and swearing, and with her heart pounding in her ears, she ran past the open doorway, towards the stairs.

As her foot touched the first tread, someone burst from her rooms, shouting, and the angry sound of it, the fear of what he was there for, made her leap the stairs three or four at a time.

She reached the bottom, but before she could take a step towards the front entrance, she heard the handle turn on the big double door. More were coming in the front.

She spun, taking in dark panelled walls and a twisting passageway as she searched for some escape.

From above, the stairs creaked with the weight of running feet and the front door was thrown open so hard it slammed against the wall. She found herself five paces down the passage before she realized it, her feet tapping faintly on the stone floor.

She jerked to a stop as voices called up the stairs, straining to hear what was said. Icy perspiration pricked her brow like a crown of thorns and her breathing was harsh and too fast.

There was a shouted exchange, and Susanna forced her feet to move. She skidded to a stop again as a door just up from her was flung open.

She stared straight into Kilburne’s wide eyes.

Relief dipped her knees until she forced them straight. Without hesitation she ran to him, past him, and spun, to face back the way she’d come, with Kilburne standing between her and whoever was thundering down the passage. He looked over his shoulder at her, his mouth open, but then snapped his attention back to the incoming danger.

Kilburne had made promises on her behalf, and she thought he was a man of honour. Her life hung on whether this was so.

“Who goes there?” Kilburne’s voice was so calm, Susanna found her gaze sharpening on him.

“Lewis, sir.” Kilburne’s second-in-command stepped around the corner, panting. “Seems the Cardinal sent some men to fetch Mistress Horebout to the dungeon. We were just disputing their right to be above, searching for her.”

Lewis caught sight of her, peeping out from behind Kilburne, and his eyes opened wide.

Whatever he’d shouted up the stairs to Wolsey’s men, Susanna noted he had not gone up the stairs to stop them. Had not made a move to find Kilburne, either.

Kilburne stood silent, waiting for Lewis to finish, and did not speak for a long moment afterwards.

Lewis flushed.

“I will require a word with you when this matter is settled.” Kilburne spoke very quietly, but Lewis staggered back, as if under siege.

“Aye, sir.”

“You got her?” A man stepped into view, addressing Lewis.

Susanna saw the second-in-command go white at what the simple question gave away.

From the way Kilburne stiffened, the implication had not been lost on him, either.

At last, Wolsey’s man noticed Kilburne, and then, finally, her.

“And you would be?” Kilburne’s tone was still even, but she could see his left hand clenching and unclenching.

“Harris, Captain. In service to the Cardinal Wolsey.” Harris reluctantly raised his hat. His men began to mill behind him, and he turned and spoke sharply.

Susanna heard them returning to the front entrance, muttering amongst themselves.

“And what is your business, Harris, that you should storm the Lieutenant’s Lodgings and run along its passageways, without first taking my leave?”

Harris’ cheeks flushed a deep red, and a little tick started up, just under his eye. “You took into custody a Mistress Horenbout this morning, on my lord’s orders, and she is wanted in the White Tower for questioning.”

“Who wants her? Where is the writ?” Kilburne held out his hand.

Harris shifted. “I’m only following my orders. I know nothing about a writ.”

“I understand. And I can only follow orders, myself. Especially those from His Majesty, the King.” Kilburne held up a scroll, with the King’s unmistakeable seal.

“What has that to do with the prisoner?” Harris flicked his gaze from Kilburne, to Lewis, to Susanna.

“This is a writ, containing my orders, straight from His Majesty, in His Majesty’s own hand, on what to do with the prisoner.” Kilburne opened it up. Glanced down at it. “And there is no mention of questioning in the Tower.”

“I don’t know anything about this . . .” Harris wiped a hand over his forehead, leaving a faint brown line of dust.

“Clearly not, or you would not have been acting directly against the King’s wishes, sir.” For the first time, Kilburne allowed his anger to show. “Count yourself lucky I prevented you from taking her, or you could well have ended in the dungeons for questioning, yourself.” Kilburne was surely exaggerating, but Harris went white at his words.

“Mistress Horenbout will not go to the White Tower unless I have the correct papers and a writ from the King, rescinding his orders. And I and my men will be the ones who will escort her there, should that be the case.”

Harris lifted his hat again, and stepped back, with one last, almost longing look at her. Then he turned and walked down the passage towards the door.

Susanna put a trembling hand against the wall and leaned against it. Her throat was too tight to speak.

Kilburne and Lewis exchanged a look.

“You all right?”

She flinched at the sound of a voice at her elbow. Spun to face the speaker.

Eric stood before her, just outside the door Kilburne had come from, and behind him, still in the room, she saw Harry. Eric was smiling, but Harry’s face was grim.

His fists were white-knuckled, and she knew, with a startling clarity, he had had to force himself not to step forward while Kilburne confronted Harris.

“It is good to see you.” She could only whisper. She wanted to sink to her knees at the sight of them, but she was too shaky to get up again, and she would do nothing in front of Lewis to show any weakness.

“I told Parker you could have one servant but with the extra duties required of you by the King, I see that two are necessary. And they have come not a moment too soon, it seems,” said Kilburne. “Your rooms will be in need of straightening.”

* * *

“Heyman escaped?” Susanna clamped her hand over her mouth, but the shout had already left her throat.

Harry winced. “Your brother untied him.”

Susanna gaped. “Why did he do that? Heyman
knows
something . . .”

They all contemplated that for a moment.

“Did your brother not start this?” Harry flung out an arm. “Isn’t he the reason you’re here?”

Susanna noticed the bruise on his face was settling into a deep greenish-yellow. Her brother was the cause of that, too.

“I can’t believe Lucas wishes me this much ill.” She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight back the dread that hung on her like the weights on the drawbridge just over the wall from where she stood. “He has been jealous of me. He is jealous of the position I hold with the King. But deliberately having me arrested, and possibly tortured? I can’t believe it.”

“Cannot or will not?” Eric kicked his legs as he sat on the bench beside the still cold fireplace.

Susanna closed her eyes. Thought. “Cannot.” She realized she spoke with certainty, and the weights eased a little. “Lucas would not try to harm me like this deliberately.”

“So, perhaps he never meant you to end up in the Tower, but he had a hand in it.” Harry’s mouth was still as grim as it had been downstairs in Kilburne’s rooms. “And letting Heyman go, that says he knows more than he’s letting on.”

He was right. Susanna rubbed her head. “If Lucas untied Heyman, he must be awake and at least better than he was.”

“One more person to watch.” Eric spoke in a clear imitation of Parker, wry, with an edge of bite.

Despite herself, Susanna smiled. She noticed a small wooden box resting on the chest Harry and one of Kilburne’s men had brought up, and bent to pick it up.

She slid open the lid, and saw the writs. “The King has sent more illuminations for me to work on while I’m here?”

Harry nodded, his face unreadable. Then he dug in her satchel, which he’d brought her from the Queen’s Chambers, and held out the King’s writ Kilburne had waved at Harris earlier. “You are also to paint his son.”

The writ had saved her from the dungeon, and she took it from Harry carefully. “Why did Kilburne give it to you?”

Harry grinned. “He didn’t. When we collected your things from his rooms, I saw it on his desk and thought it better in our hands than in anyone else’s.”

Susanna regarded him a long moment, and started to laugh.

She fought against it, but as some point, the laughter gave way to sobs.

Chapter Sixteen

if ill opinions cannot be quite rooted out, and you cannot cure some received vice according to your wishes, you must not, therefore, abandon the commonwealth, for the same reasons as you should not forsake the ship in a storm because you cannot command the winds.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

T
he man Parker was sure was a French spy walked down Fleet Street, unconcerned and relaxed.

Parker watched as he stopped and bought apples at a stall, and was close enough behind him to hear him crunch into one of them. His hand came up and wiped away the juice that spilled out onto his chin with his sleeve.