In Defense of the Queen (3 page)

Parker carefully placed a hand on her arm, his touch warm. “The attack tonight could have been to silence you, so you can’t deliver the message. Does your brother realize that?”

She nodded. “He said he was sure no one in London could know why he was here, but he was lying again.”

“Charles won’t want Margaret whispering his plans to Katherine in advance. He would stop this if he could. So most likely someone working for Charles followed your brother here from Margaret’s court, or sent word of his arrival to Emperor Charles’s spies here in London.”

She covered his hand with her own. Looked directly into his eyes. “What do we do?”

He looked towards the fire. “There is no question. We burn this letter and say nothing.”

Chapter Four

For most princes apply themselves more to affairs of war than to the useful arts of peace; and in these I neither have any knowledge, nor do I much desire it; they are generally more set on acquiring new kingdoms, right or wrong, than on governing well those they possess

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

“Y
ou would not burn it if it weren’t in my father’s hand. If it weren’t brought by my brother.” She raised her gaze to his. “You would give it to the King.”

“But it is from your father, brought by your brother.” There was nothing to add to that. The ties to treason in this were too close to her. He would cut them with his sharpest knife.

There was a glitter in her eyes as she bent her head over the letter again. “No matter if we burn it or not, if someone knows of this, I won’t be safe until I’ve had an audience with the Queen.” She handed it to him.

Parker rolled it up and touched one end of the parchment to the flames without hesitation, made sure it caught well before he threw it into the heart of the blaze.

They both watched it burn.

“Only if that bolt was not from Jean’s bow.”

The anger he’d been pushing down since learning how her family had compromised and endangered her boiled up again. He tried to keep his voice even. “Henry has spies in Margaret’s court, too, or Wolsey does on his behalf. Charles will most definitely have someone watching his aunt. Any of them could be the ones who know of this. Or all of them.”

“But if they know or suspect Margaret has given me something to pass on to the Queen, would they try to kill me without finding out the details? Without learning the message?” She looked toward the closed shutters and shivered.

“No,” he said slowly. “Wolsey or Henry wouldn’t kill before they found out what Margaret is up to, what message she wants given to Katherine. They’d have you or your brother in the Tower for a . . . conversation first. Charles, on the other hand, would know whatever it was, it would not be in his interests. So he may have given orders to kill first, find out what it’s about later.”

She closed her eyes, her hands gripping her upper arms, as if holding on for dear life. “My father could not have realized . . .”

“Your father has worked at court for many years. He knew what he was doing.” He tried to temper the ice in his tone, but she winced. “And because of it, your death would now be convenient to Emperor Charles.”

She opened her eyes again, raised her head. “Unless you get me to the Queen. Tonight. So that whoever knows of this thinks all the damage I can do has been done.”

He wanted to run up the stairs and punch Lucas Horenbout until his handsome face was in ruins. Parker turned away from her, opening and closing his fists. He would rather anything than take her out on the streets tonight. But she was right. If she was able to obtain a private audience with the Queen they would at least obtain a temporary reprieve.

No one would know she hadn’t said anything to the Queen. It would be assumed she had.

He wished now he had been faster across the garden, wished he knew for certain if it was Jean up on the wall or not. It would make this decision so much easier.

“You know it is the best course.” Her voice was soft, small, and he turned at last to look at her.

She had risen from her chair and watched him with dark eyes.

“Yes.” He said the word on a sigh. His gaze caught the bolt still sticking into the door of the study, and he wondered how fortune could change so quickly.

From kissing his lover by the window, to getting ready to race through the darkness to Bridewell Palace, all within the hour.

There was a noise outside the door, as someone came down the passage.

“I hope that’s your brother.” Parker watched the door, anticipation leaping in him, warming his heart.

“Why?” She looked across to him, and he saw her swallow in shock. “Parker. No.”

He did not respond. If it were Horenbout, he was about to lose some teeth.

* * *

Peter Jack took a step back into the passageway at the sight of Parker’s face, his hand dropping from the handle like a dead-weight.

“Sir?” He half-swallowed his words.

“Come in.” Parker sounded resigned.

“He was hoping it was someone else.” Susanna could not allow Peter Jack to think that look had been meant for him.

“Who?” Peter Jack stepped into the room, and Susanna pointed upwards to the guest room.

“Ah.” He grinned. He pushed the door closed and caught sight of the bolt embedded in it. Stood, open-mouthed.

Parker stepped closer and pulled the bolt from the door. Turned it over in his hands.

Susanna reached out and touched the shaft. The wood was smooth and cool. “’Tis well made.”

“Yes.” Parker held it closer to the light of the fire. “It isn’t English-made. Italian, or perhaps Swiss.”

“What does that mean?” Peter Jack looked between them.

“It means whoever is shooting is from the other side of the Channel, or they can afford the best.”

“Like the Emperor.” Susanna’s heart skipped at the sight of Parker, frowning down at the bolt in his hand. He had been the King’s Yeoman of the Crossbows up until only a few months ago and now he looked at the sleek shaft as if it could somehow speak to him.

“The Emperor Charles?” Peter Jack had not moved since he’d stepped into the room. “Why would he?”

“My brother brought a secret message for the Queen with him from Margaret of Austria. We think the Emperor’s agents are trying to stop me passing it to her.”

“Either that, or Jean took the first of many shots at you.” Parker’s tone made her look up, and despite everything, despite the pit they were sliding into, relentlessly and with no hope of a handhold, she smiled.

“Aye. I do collect enemies, don’t I?”

He held her gaze, and his lips curved. “Almost as many as me.”

Chapter Five

among the ministers of princes, there are none that are not so wise as to need no assistance, or at least, that do not think themselves so wise that they imagine they need none; and if they court any, it is only those for whom the prince has much personal favour, whom by their fawning and flatteries they endeavour to fix to their own interests;

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

T
he Queen would not see them. Parker stared at Gertrude Courtenay, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Parker, but she is not feeling well and she retired early this evening.”

“We had hoped to see her.” Susanna’s voice was soft, and Gertrude looked between them.

“It is important?”

“Aye.” Hope flared, and Parker stepped closer, but Gertrude was already shaking her head.

“Not now. She truly is asleep. But tomorrow. Come early, and I will make sure you gain admittance, if she is well enough.”

It was all they could hope for.

The other ladies-in-waiting watched them, the few who were not downstairs taking part in a revel organized by the King. He wondered which of the women in the chamber were spies, and for who. Cardinal Wolsey would have a few in his employ, as would the Duke of Norfolk. The Emperor Charles would have at least one, if he was worthy of his title.

News of this visit would reach all of their ears, or in the case of Charles, his spymaster in England, and because they had not succeeded in seeing the Queen, the danger to Susanna had increased. He tried to look as if he was merely disappointed, when he wanted nothing more than to push Gertrude Courtenay aside and force his way into the Queen’s chamber.

“Until the morrow.” Susanna dipped into a curtsy, and drew him away, to the door. He realized belatedly he was dragging his feet.

When they stepped out into the passage, she closed her eyes, her fists clenched at her side. “What now?”

Parker took her arm, and they walked to the stairs. “I think we should speak with the King.”

She glanced at him, and a shiver shook her. “Is that wise?”

“I would rather know if he has any inkling of what is happening or not. He must have spies in Margaret’s court. The question is, do they know what she’s up to? I don’t think any agent of the King shot at us tonight, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know something.”

Her steps faltered, and then she nodded. “Aye. It would be better to know.”

He squeezed her arm, and let his thumb brush her open palm. “Then into the pit, my love.”

* * *

Elizabeth Carew stood just within the doorway of the Privy Chamber.

Susanna let go of Parker’s arm as he went to greet a friend and stepped up to her side, followed her gaze.

The King was dancing.

Susanna watched him dip and bow, and stamp on the boards to a merry tune.

She looked towards the small band of musicians, but the Flemish flautist she knew was not playing tonight.

The King’s partner laughed as he swung her, her colour high.

“He has grown tired of me.”

Susanna flicked her gaze to Elizabeth, standing with her eyes still on the King.

“I’m sorry.” What else could she say to that? Elizabeth had thought the King had grown tired of her before, thought Susanna had been her replacement, but the fierce heat and jealousy on that occasion was missing from the King’s mistress now. She was calm.

At last, she turned her head to Susanna. Her face was utterly beautiful, completely serene. “I am relieved, truth be told.”

Again, Susanna did not know what to say. She looked out across the dance floor. “Who is he dancing with?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “The youngest daughter of a minor noble. If he takes her to his bed, it will not be for long. But between him and I, it is over. No doubt my husband will get a new landholding as a parting gift. For lending the King my services.”

Susanna stilled. Turned to her again. There had been a thread of steel, and of bitterness, in Elizabeth’s voice. “And you? What will you get?”

She smiled, but it was merely a tug of her cheeks, her eyes were cold. “I get a rest. And perhaps, with time, some of the Queen’s ladies will begin talking to me again.”

The dance came to an end, and the King bowed low, with a flourish, to his partner. She giggled and blushed.

Parker came up beside Susanna and touched her arm. “Better you stay here.”

She nodded, watched him move through the crowd towards the King.

Elizabeth seemed incapable of moving and she took her arm. Steered her to the chairs that were set along the wall.

“Where is your husband, my lady?” She searched the room, but Nicholas Carew was nowhere in sight.

The King clapped his hands enthusiastically, and the musicians started a new, faster, piece. Henry grabbed his partner again, and pulled her onto the floor.

Susanna saw Parker halt, then begin on a new path that would bring him closer to the swirling monarch.

Elizabeth moved, jerky as a puppet, to adjust her skirts. “My husband injured himself in the lists today.” Her voice was quite without intonation. “His ribs are painful.”

Susanna swallowed, her eyes tracking Parker as he side-stepped the twirling dancers. “Perhaps a stay at your country estate will do you both good?”

Life finally flickered in Elizabeth’s eyes. She gazed at Susanna coolly. “Perhaps.”

“Did your mother like the pencil sketch I made of you?” Susanna held her gaze, and did not flinch, and eventually Elizabeth Carew looked away.

“Aye. She liked it very well, thank you.”

“I would still paint you, my lady.”

Elizabeth made a face, as if she could no longer imagine a reason for Susanna’s interest.

“I am just finished working on a painting of the Princess Mary, so I can start whenever you give me the word.”

Elizabeth hesitated. “I do not think my husband would care for what you have in mind.” She slanted a look at Susanna. “You still wish to paint me rising from a forest stream?”

Susanna nodded.

Elizabeth watched the dancing in silence a little longer. Drew herself up straighter. “Aye.” She stood, her eyes on the King one last time. “You may call on me when you are ready, Mistress Horenbout, and I will sit for you.”