In Defense of the Queen (21 page)

Deadly, focused.

Those words could be used to describe Parker as well, but Jean had lost one thing Parker still had in abundance. His humanity.

The cough came again, and it sounded as if it were in the chapel itself. Susanna tensed, and realized at last the chapel’s high ceilings extended up into the third floor.

She moved away from the door, and looked up, saw a gallery ran along the top, with a door leading out to the landing above and the State Apartments. The King could attend church merely by walking from his rooms to the gallery, and look down on the service from above.

The sound of another small movement, the rustle of clothing, filtered down to her, and she guessed one of the gallery doors had not been properly shut.

She heard Jean call softly from halfway up the stairs, and then heard his footsteps as he climbed all the way to the top floor.

“Yes?” The guard spoke loudly, and Jean shushed him. Every sound carried down to her, clear as if she were beside them.

“The Cardinal is working in the vestry below.” Jean’s voice was now so low, she had to strain to hear it. “He is irritated by your cough. He says it’s disturbing him.”

Susanna heard Jean’s low laugh, and wondered if the guard had made a rude gesture in the Cardinal’s direction.

“I know, my friend. I know.”

His voice was so warm, so sympathetic, Susanna shivered. He would have killed this man if it hadn’t been inconvenient.

“Think of it this way, you have some time off. I’m to replace you. Is it just the King’s Chambers you watch up here?”

The guard gave a snorting laugh of his own. “Aye, I suppose time off won’t go amiss. The King and Queen’s Chambers and a few of his courtiers’ rooms. That is all you need to watch.”

“Good.” He waited while the guard hacked another cough.

On her floor, Susanna heard the door to the Cardinal’s Chambers swung open.

“Will you be quiet with that infernal racket.”

Susanna heard the door slam again, and wondered if it were one of Wolsey’s thugs or his secretary. Whoever it was, they had played directly into Jean’s hands.

“That’s your signal to be off, my friend.”

“S’pose so.” The guard moved down the stairs, unhurried, coughing all the while. Far more than he had been doing earlier.

Susanna smiled.

The handle of the door rattled, and shock at how fast, how silently Jean had returned froze her for a moment. She stepped back in place just in time.

“Where is the Mirror?” Jean’s face loomed at her, backlit by the weak light of the landing, and she wondered how she could create that effect in a painting. A devil leering through a door, with the fires of hell in the background.

“The Mirror.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her, and she blinked.

This would be the hardest part. “In the King’s Chamber in a small box.” She showed him the size in the small space between their bodies, hoping he would release her and step back. “It’s probably inside a chest.”

“Which will no doubt be locked.”

Susanna lifted her hands. “Did you think it would be easy?”

He pushed her away from him, and she stumbled backward. She put out a hand to steady herself, and it connected with a small table beside the door.

Jean leapt forward and caught it before it clattered to the floor. He placed it down with deliberate movements and then spun for the door. Let himself out without a word.

Susanna stared at the closed door, waiting for her pulse to calm.

At last she sat on a bench, still in shadow, and looked up at the light streaming in through the high stained glass windows, the floral rainbow pattern soothing her.

If he hadn’t been afraid she’d cry out, Jean would have hit her because of the table.

She knew it.

His behaviour was mercurial. One moment, entranced by her, the next, furious that she would not obey him to the letter. That she would not cower.

She thought of Fitzroy, being stalked by a killer, and wondered if she dare trust Jean to get her out of the Tower. The way his eyes had flared before he left—she hunched her shoulders and stood slowly.

Could it be he was done with her? He could take the Mirror and keep walking. Leave her to the wolves.

Leaving her only a wall away from the Cardinal Wolsey. Even the weight of the King’s ring did not soothe her at that thought.

Her hands were shaking and she lifted them up in the half-dark, willed them to still. When they were steady enough for her liking, she focused on listening. Wolsey was quiet now, but she could hear the occasional thump of a drawer, and was certain he was still busy within his vestry.

Above her, in the gallery, she thought she heard the faintest creak of wood. As if someone were adjusting their position.

Jean?

She had given him what he needed, and she would only slow him down now, and could still turn on him.

Perhaps he’d decided he was better off with her dead.

The darkness above seemed to loom over her, now. She imagined shadows in its depths, with crossbows raised.

With a sudden sense of urgency, she made for the door, opened it and walked out to the stairs. She looked up, but there was no sign of Jean on the landing.

She hesitated. Wondered if the guard below would fetch Kilburne if she asked them too, or if they would call up to Wolsey.

And then she remembered. Kilburne was set to take her to Fitzroy’s this afternoon. She was supposed to be painting him.

Her hand gripped the banister. She had completely forgotten. There could be no simpler way to have access to the little boy.

She hoped Wolsey had not convinced Kilburne he had a right to question her, or that the King’s wish for her to paint Fitzroy counted as more important than Wolsey’s questions.

Above her, she heard the creak of boards, and she moved as quietly as she could down the stairs toward the guards.

She would take her chances with Kilburne.

She had had the tiger by the tail and had let it go. It was time to put a safe distance between herself and the assassin.

Chapter Twenty-eight

And yet it is wonderful to see how this false notion of pleasure bewitches many who delight themselves with the fancy of their nobility, and are pleased with this conceit—that they are descended from ancestors who have been held for some successions rich, and who have had great possessions; for this is all that makes nobility at present.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

K
ilburne had been easy to get rid of. He was so shocked by Merden’s death, it had been a simple matter for Parker to steer him to his chambers to collect himself before he called his men to move Merden’s body.

Parker hoped he would be sufficiently occupied for some time. He reached the top of the wooden stairs and opened the door into the White Tower. The gloom of the inside enveloped him, and he stood still a moment to get used to it.

A guard at a table stood, and saluted him. “The Cardinal is up on the second floor, working in the vestry.”

Parker nodded his thanks. Walked past and up the central staircase. He wondered where Kingston was in all this. But the Constable of the Tower would not be concerned with so lowly a prisoner as Susanna, not with an efficient captain like Kilburne to rely upon.

He moved softly up the stairs, not sure if Wolsey would have his men standing outside or in the vestry with him.

There was a soft scuffle of feet just ahead, as if someone had heard him, and stopped dead.

He lunged forward, leaping up the steps, and slammed into—

“Parker.” Susanna went limp against him, and he could feel her whole body shaking. “I thought . . .”

Parker tightened his hold on her, his mind not quite sure of the evidence in his arms.

“You are all right.” He wanted to laugh it out loud, but forced himself to whisper in her ear.

“Jean is above, looking for the Mirror in the State apartments.”

If he didn’t have to choose between killing Jean and getting Susanna out of the White Tower safely, he would have taken the stairs without a second thought, knife in hand.

“We need to get you to Kilburne. I have the writ from the King. Wolsey can do nothing to you, and tonight, if he still has no proof against you, he has to let you go.”

“I need to get to Durham House, not back to Kilburne.” She looked wild, her hair half-fallen from its neat twist, her eyes wide. “We have to get to Fitzroy.”

He frowned. “The King will understand your delay on the portrait, and it will be one more mark against Wolsey for causing it.”

“No, not to paint him.” She raised her eyes upward, to the State Apartments. “Jean told me a nobleman has contracted an assassin to kill Fitzroy. I have the letter he was given as proof.”

Parker choked. “An assassin?”

“Yes, someone offered the job to Jean but he turned it down. But he swears someone else would have taken it. And it must be done before the seventh day in June.”

Parker heard the door open above, and the murmur of voices. Kingston and Wolsey. So that is where the Constable was.

He gripped Susanna’s hand and climbed the stairs to the landing, felt her resist a moment, and then place her trust in him.

It would be best to get this confrontation with Wolsey over with, and he could ask for no better witness than the Constable of the Tower.

“Parker.” Kingston gaped at him as they stepped into view. Wolsey stood behind him, his eyes hooded. “There seems to be some confusion about a certain prisoner . . .” Kingston tailed off as he noticed Susanna.

“There is no confusion, sir.” Parker pulled the hard-won writ from his pouch, and presented it. “The truth of the matter is, the Cardinal acted unwisely, and from false information. He made an arrest before ascertaining any facts, and when the King demanded he produce proof or release Mistress Horenbout tonight, he decided to extract a false confession from her with torture, rather than lose face. I appraised the King of this, and he has made his opinion on the matter clear.”

Wolsey’s cheeks burned with sudden colour.

Kingston took the writ and read it slowly. Looked between the two men.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and heavy, and eventually Kingston cleared his throat and shifted in place. “It seems clear enough the King wishes no harm come to his painter, and unless the questions you have to put to her are in my office, and without force, Cardinal, I suggest she be returned to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, which I hear from Kilburne was the Queen’s choice of accommodation for her.” He bowed to Susanna and she curtseyed back. “Apologies that my wife and I have not had the chance to visit you yet, mistress.”

“It is quite all right, sir.” Susanna ignored Wolsey. “As it happens, the Cardinal’s arrival interrupted a schedule set out by the King, for me to attend to his son, Henry Fitzroy, at Durham House this afternoon. I am busy painting a portrait of him, and the King is anxious for me to continue work on it.”

Kingston looked to Wolsey as if expecting him to deny it, but when he again said nothing, the Constable blushed. “I will need to speak to Kilburne about this. But if that is what the King requires, by all means, you should continue as usual.”

“My thanks, sir.” Susanna dipped in another curtsy. “I am eager to get back to work.”

Parker noticed a quick movement overhead. Jean was in the shadows above, watching them.

“Kilburne is dealing with the death of one of his men, sir.” He spoke to Kingston, but he kept Wolsey in his line of sight. “A guard named Merden. He was discovered in an unused house next to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings.”

Kingston gasped, and Wolsey snapped to immediate attention.

“That would have been your doing, Parker.” Wolsey could barely speak, rage distorted his mouth so badly.

“Captain Kilburne and I noted the man entering the Lodgings and followed him inside. We were together when we discovered the body.” Parker held Wolsey’s gaze while he spoke.

“I will confirm that with Captain Kilburne, but it does seem clear you are not responsible.” Kingston gave Wolsey a strange look. “I notice you’ve requested Merden’s services most often, of all the men here, Your Grace. I am sure it is merely grief that causes you to lash out so.”

“The Cardinal is surely bemoaning the waste of so valuable a man.” Parker spoke without inflection, and Wolsey spun around and walked back into the vestry. Slammed the door shut.

Kingston’s eyes went wide.

“With your permission, I will accompany Mistress Horenbout to Durham House in Captain Kilburne’s stead, sir.” Parker spoke with respect. He intended to go with Susanna, whether Kingston gave his permission or not, but this mess was not of the Constable’s making. His powers ended at the walls of the Tower, and nothing could prevent Parker from accompanying Kilburne, if Kingston insisted his captain make the trip.

“That would be delicate, sir. As I am to understand she is your betrothed.” Kingston looked agonized.