In Defense of the Queen (24 page)

“How did you get past the locked door?” Croke stepped closer, and looked past him, as if expecting an attack at any moment.

“I got in through an open window. This place is not secure, although the assassin has gone for the moment.”

“Someone cried out, in the street.” Kilburne struggled to sit even higher, then gave up the fight and slumped back.

One of the guards looked out of a parted curtain, trying to see the road, but Parker motioned him back.

“My page and some boys who work for me are out there, watching the street for us.” He opened the door a little way, and stepped out, closing it behind him.

He came back in almost immediately, with Harry on his heels.

“Someone got Will. He’s been knocked down. He’s breathing, but we can’t wake him.” Harry’s gaze flicked around the room, noting Croke, his eyes going wide at the sight of Kilburne’s blood-soaked doublet.

“When?” Parker tried to control his surprise, and an icy hand stroked its fingers down Susanna’s spine.

“Right now.”

“Then there are more than one of them. Peter Jack and I watched the shooter row off down the Thames. There’s no way he’s had time to double back and knock out Will.”

“What do we do?” Croke looked at Parker.

“How many servants serve here?”

“About twenty in all.” Croke spoke automatically, then went still. “You think one of them . . .”

“I think it would be foolish to take the chance they are all trustworthy, and give a traitor an opportunity to get to Fitzroy. We need to get him out of this house.”

It was only because she knew him so well that she saw the tension in him as he spoke of taking the prince out into the city.

“But guarding him in the open will be almost impossible.” Kilburne’s voice was getting weaker.

“Better to keep moving, to places they don’t know. They’ve most likely been studying Durham House for days. It will be safer on the outside.”

“I know where we can take him.” Kilburne shifted uncomfortably from his place on the floor. They all turned their attention to him. “The Tower.”

“Why not Bridewell?” Croke asked, “or Greenwich?”

Parker shook his head. “Whoever is behind this is at Bridewell, most likely, and with the King not in residence, Greenwich will not have the security we need to protect the prince.”

The Tower. It was the last place she wanted to return to. Jean had still been there when they’d left, although she was sure the assassin had long since made his escape. It was hardly an excuse she could use with Kilburne, anyway.

Wolsey might still be there, and some of Kilburne’s guards were in his control. It was not much, but she voiced it. “Wolsey is at the Tower.”

Kilburne coughed. Breathed deep. “Wolsey is the prince’s godfather. Whatever your feelings are of him personally, he would never harm Fitzroy.”

Susanna nodded. Exchanged a quick look with Parker. She could see the same frustration in his eyes. To keep the prince safe, they would have to return to the one place she was not.

Chapter Thirty-two

They would be both troubled and ashamed of a bloody victory over their enemies; and think it would be as foolish a purchase as to buy the most valuable goods at too high a rate. And in no victory do they glory so much as in that which is gained by dexterity and good conduct without bloodshed.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

I
f only the river weren’t in spring tide. Parker looked out onto the Strand and grimaced at the heavy foot traffic.

But with the tide low, they would not get past the bridge, and Jules and his men would only need to wait for them to come in to dock to pick them off, one by one.

The river was out.

And it had taken time for Peter Jack and Harry to bring Will inside. By now, Jules could be waiting right outside Durham House again, along with whichever of his accomplices had hit Will.

If his helper were Jan Heyman, the musician would have more than spying charges to worry about. Parker would see to it personally.

He glanced across the room.

Susanna had Will half-raised on her lap, holding a cup of water to his lips and letting him take little sips now that he had awakened.

Henry Fitzroy sat beside them, watching them in fascination, his grip white-knuckled on his small longbow.

“We need to go.” The mellow light of afternoon filtered through the windows, and Kilburne looked too pale in its golden glow. He needed a healer as quickly as possible. Harry had already sent one of his lads to fetch Maggie in Parker’s cart—if it were still in one piece from this afternoon’s road block to stop Wolsey.

It was ironic the Hospital of the Savoy was just a short walk away, the next large building from Durham House on the river banks.

But Parker knew for a fact the master of the Savoy was a surveyor to Wolsey, and there was no circumstance under which he’d put anyone connected to himself under the hospital’s care.

Anyway, Kilburne looked too bad to move, and Will would be better off remaining still, as well. There was no doctor he would trust over Maggie, in any event.

“Do you want to take the prince’s cart?” One of the guards asked, and Parker turned to him, considering the offer.

“Would you consent to act as decoys?” He looked from Croke to the guards, and they all nodded.

“If you take the cart, with a sack under some blankets to look like a boy, and ride as fast as you can away west, towards Greenwich, that may confuse them. They will be familiar with the three of you as the prince’s companions by now. It would make sense that you would be the ones to spirit him away.”

Croke paled at the implication, but he nodded again. “I would agree that is a good plan.”

“Wear a leather jerkin under your cloak.” Parker placed a hand on his shoulder. “If we get the cart ready, we can open the gates and you can ride out at a gallop. Take them by surprise. I think it will serve to draw them off.”

“And out.” Harry was at the other window, but he dropped the curtain to speak. There was a hard look in his eyes. He was angry about Will, and perhaps about Kilburne, too. Parker knew he’d grown to respect the captain during his time with Susanna in the Tower.

“And out,” Parker agreed. “But we cannot engage them now. Not until Fitzroy is safely in the Tower. What I would say is get some of the lads to stay behind, see where they go. I am almost certain they will follow the cart, at least at first.”

“And then what?” Harry lifted the curtain again, looked out into the street.

“And then we hunt them down.”

“I’ll stay here with Will and Captain Kilburne.” Susanna spoke from her seat on the floor. “Someone needs to let Maggie in, and I don’t trust the servants. Not if there is a chance one or more is in Jules’ pay.”

Parker stared at her. “I wouldn’t leave you here for that very reason.” He glanced back at the window. “They may decide to check inside the house if they realize the cart is a diversion. You won’t be staying.”

“I’ll stay.” Peter Jack had been quiet, leaning against the wall, and Parker knew he was almost asleep on his feet. He hadn’t slept in over a day and night, and it was taking its toll. He was not up to a wild ride through the streets of London.

He nodded. “That is sensible.” He held his hand out to Susanna, and she took it reluctantly. As he pulled her to her feet, he drew her against him, touched his lips to her ear. “You are too precious to me. I cannot let you out my sight now.”

She sighed in acquiescence, but her eyes lingered on Will. “At least Maggie should already be en route.”

Croke cleared his throat. “We will be off.”

“Don’t forget that leather jerkin.” Parker let Susanna go. “Good luck.”

Croke walked over to Fitzroy and bowed. “Good luck to you, your lordship. Heed Master Parker well. I know he is a great friend of your father’s and will take care of you.”

Fitzroy bowed back. “I will, sir.” His gaze rested on Will and Kilburne a moment, and Parker knew he had realized this was no game. That both he and Croke could just as easily end up in the same condition. Croke had done a good job with the boy. He was thoughtful enough to understand others had been harmed helping him. Perhaps seeing Fitzroy on the throne would be no bad thing.

Croke gave an encouraging smile. “We will see each other soon.” He exchanged a last look with Parker and left the room, with the guards following behind him.

“As soon as they leave the front gate, we leave by the side alley.” Parker waited for Harry to drop the curtain and step away from the window. “And then we ride like the demons of hell are at our heels.”

* * *

Harry was only a slightly better horseman than she, but Susanna was grateful he was at the reins as they struggled to keep pace with Parker, who had Fitzroy tucked before him and covered over with his cloak.

The streets of London always carried danger, but now it seemed to her every small movement was a bowman lifting a bow, or an assassin unsheathing his knife.

Their best defence was to keep moving forward at the bone rattling pace Parker had set.

Ahead, on their right, the Hospital of the Savoy loomed, and there was a collection of the wounded and ill loitering out the front.

It was easy to see how Jules and his men had easily kept watch on Durham House. There were so many people standing or sitting on the side of the road, they would not have stood out.

A man stepped into Parker’s way on the road ahead, and Harry drew his knife as they closed the distance. Parker danced the horse around the man, but he moved to block the way again, reaching up to grab the reins.

He was filthy. His legs were covered in something dried and black, caked to his leggings, and as they came level with Parker the stink of it enveloped her. It could have been nightsoil just as easily as mud.

The man was shouting something unintelligible, and at last Parker drew his sword, smooth, clean and efficient.

“Let us pass.” He lifted the sword to show he was armed and as a warning, but the man did not notice or did not care.

He made another grab for the reins, and Susanna saw Parker’s face harden. She guessed this was not one of Jules’s men, but Parker had had enough, and he was not prepared to take more of a risk than he already had. Fitzroy had been partly revealed by the horse’s panicked movements—Susanna could see his blond head emerging from Parker’s cloak—and if any of Jules’s men were watching, the secret was out.

Parker’s sword came down, and the flat of the blade struck the man’s upper arm as he lifted it to make another grab at the horse’s mouth.

He howled as if his arm had been sliced open, and Parker followed it through with a smack to the man’s ear.

With a shriek, he toppled over and crawled away, and Parker moved on, sword slashing out as he went.

The crowd parted, and as they followed close on Parker’s heels, Susanna locked gazes for a moment with a woman pressed up against the wooden fence along one part of the hospital front.

Her eyes were tired, worn through to her soul. No one would commission a portrait of such a woman, such a subject, but Susanna knew she would paint it. The raw exhaustion, the lack of any emotional shield, was as riveting as it was disturbing.

She stared hard, trying to memorize every detail, and at last, unnerved, the woman turned away, pressing her face into the wood.

The horse jerked to the side a little, and Susanna clutched at Harry’s waist to find her balance, looked back at the woman a final time.

A tight, cold hand of fear gripped her neck. The woman was staring down the road, the way they had come, her mouth open, and Susanna twisted in the saddle to look behind her.

A man was standing in the middle of the road, crossbow raised.

“Danger. Behind us.” Susanna grabbed hold of the ends of her cloak and lifted her arms out, creating wings of black wool that lifted and billowed in the late afternoon breeze.

She hoped the fabric blocked Parker and Fitzroy from view.

Parker turned back and she brought her arms in for a moment so he could see, then raised them out again.

They had been moving as fast as they could, before, but now Parker showed the crowds no mercy. He let out a cry that sent a shiver down her spine—a war cry that had a place on an ancient battlefield, and forced his mount into a canter, sword swinging left and right.

Harry followed tight behind, and Susanna wondered what the people leaping out of their path thought of the mad warrior with a child tucked up against his chest, and the dark horse, a Pegasus with wool wings spread wide, following behind him.

She braced herself for Jules’s bolt through her back. Braced herself for him to rid himself of her meddling, but then they thundered over Strand Bridge, bore right with the curve of the road, and suddenly, the Savoy Hospital was no longer behind them.

They only had the whole of London to ride through to reach safety.

Chapter Thirty-three

for it has often fallen out that many of them, and even the prince himself, have been betrayed, by those in whom they have trusted most;