“Margaret here doesn’t know about painters or mistresses, and I know for a fact she’s never met the Queen.” The low voice in her ear sounded amused, the hard, cruel undertone freezing her in place. “You won’t need that satchel of yours where we’re taking you.”
Susanna’s heart thumped in panic. She tried to scream, tried to twist away, but he tightened his grip and pressed his hand more viciously into her mouth. She could smell sweat and the sweet, green scent of hay on him.
Without even a grunt of effort, he lifted her off her feet, leaving her to kick uselessly at the air.
“The way clear?” Margaret asked, her cold eyes never leaving Susanna’s face.
“Aye. I paid the servants to look the other way for ten minutes.” He seemed relaxed, holding her easily.
More than anything else, his self-confidence thrust a cold, roiling ball of fear into her stomach.
“Come on, then.” The woman stepped ahead of them, moving away from the Queen’s rooms, and slipped down the service staircase at the end of the passageway.
“Time to get you tucked away, nice and safe,” the man said.
Susanna tried to bite his hand, to fling herself from him, but he was immensely strong. He held her firmly, laughing softly at her attempts as he followed his accomplice down the stairs.
Tucked away nice and safe? As she panted with exertion and frustration, Susanna wondered at his words. It sounded as if he did not mean to kill her.
Which left only one alternative.
Parker should have hidden his regard for her. They were about to use her against him.
31
The Chiefe Conditions and Qualities in a Courtier: Not to be overseene in speaking wordes otherwhile that may offende where he ment it not.
Of the Chief Conditions and Qualityes in a Waytyng Gentylwoman: Not to mingle with grave and sad matters, meerie jestes and laughinge matters: nor with mirth, matters of gravitie.
Is that the call to hunt?” Norfolk swung his head in the direction of the bugle call, then turned back to Parker. The clear, full notes of the call settled over them like the snow blanketing the squat rosebushes among which they stood.
“So it seems.” Parker kept his eyes on Norfolk.
“Your threat to take me to the King was a bluff.” Norfolk’s voice rose. “He wasn’t in his closet at all, he was at the stables.”
Norfolk drew himself up, vibrating anger, and Parker’s sword hand twitched. “Knowing what I do about you, I wouldn’t let you within ten feet of the King.”
“Damn you, Parker. You go too far.”
“I could go further. The King has given me his full support. I don’t need to remind you what happened to Buckingham when he was tried for treason. I heard your father cried as he sentenced him, sir. You know you are not above the same fate at the chopping block.”
Norfolk blanched, his posture collapsing as he took a stumbling step back. He looked stricken. “You remind me of the worst day of my life. Of my father’s life.”
“One you may well relive as the guilty party this time, instead of the judge. Unlike Buckingham’s case, we don’t just have the disaffected testimony of staff and the foolish movement of troops as evidence. We have a full-blown plot.”
“And what plot is that?” Norfolk’s face was impossible to read.
“Sir.” Harry’s voice rang out in warning from a large lemon tree in the corner of the garden.
Parker’s hand went to his sword, but the man approaching was in servants’ dress, unarmed. He had a hard-edged, cocky look about him and he was well-built and strong, but no threat against a sword and knife. It was a relief.
Having pressed every able-bodied man he trusted into service protecting the King today, Parker was vulnerable if Norfolk had more accomplices of Fielder’s caliber available to him.
The servant picked his way through the garden toward them and Norfolk went to intercept him, white-lipped and agitated. They put their heads together, and Parker noticed that the man stumbled over his message, a curious, pent-up energy in him.
Norfolk smiled, and when at last he stepped back, his expression was smug. The servant turned to gaze at Parker, a long, considering look that made Parker think of cats crouched over fishponds. Parker’s knife dropped into his palm.
Norfolk’s gaze fixed on Parker’s hand. “Put it away.” He shot a quick, furious look at the servant, and the man turned and walked off at an easy pace.
“I do not take orders from you, Norfolk.” Parker held himself still, waiting for the bad news.
“That’s about to change.” The smug look was back on Norfolk’s face. “If you want to see your Flemish painter alive, you’ll start listening to me very, very closely.”
Her satchel sat abandoned against the far wall of the Queen’s antechamber. Parker lifted the bag up, because she would not forgive him if it was lost.
“Sir?”
Parker turned and saw a young woman he recognized from court. She was holding a piece of paper in her hands, and she stepped boldly from the huddle of women that had formed when he’d flung the door open and stormed in with the surprised yeomen at his heels.
“I see from the way you touch Mistress Horenbout’s satchel that you care for her.”
She looked at him intently, then flicked her eyes toward the door.
“You are right.” Parker held out his arm as naturally as he could.
She took it with a smile and a curtsy.
“I do not know who arranged for her abduction, sir.” The woman pitched her voice for his ears alone. “It could be one of the ladies, although I did see a servant look overlong at her when they came to deliver the Queen’s repast to her chamber.”
Parker felt a jolt at that. Norfolk had made use of servants throughout his scheme. But to have someone serving the Queen … The thought lodged sharp-edged shards of ice in his gut.
“That alone is valuable information. Thank you.” They were nearing the door, although Parker was walking as slowly as he could.
She spoke quickly. “I saw the woman she spoke with. I think the woman who lured Mistress Horenbout out of the room is Norfolk’s mistress. My mother knows his wife, who has complained about the woman many times. She once pointed her out to my mother, although they were not aware I was listening to their conversation.”
They had reached the door, and Parker bowed smartly over her hand. “My thanks,” he murmured, his heart pounding at hearing her revelation.
She curtsied in return, and Parker stepped into the passageway.
“Halt.”
The strident voice of Lady Guildford cut across the room. For a moment, Parker considered ignoring her.
“Parker.” Her voice was like a whip crack.
He turned, his teeth clenched, impatient to be away.
“The Queen wishes to speak with you, sir.”
Parker forced himself to bow. His smile would have done credit to a death mask. Norfolk had given him an hour to see for himself that Susanna was gone, and he had never dealt well with the Queen.
No matter his personal regard for her intelligence and her courtesy, they were both very aware where his loyalties lay. And he knew it rankled her that he knew far more than she about her husband’s business.
Lady Guildford raised an imperious eyebrow. Parker stepped back into the room with an inward shout of frustration and made his way to the door of the inner sanctum.
Who could disobey a summons from the Queen?
32
The Chiefe Conditions and Qualities in a Courtier: To have the vertues of the minde, as justice, manlinesse, wisdome, temperance, staideness, noble courage, sober-moode, etc.
Of the Chief Conditions and Qualityes in a Waytyng Gentylwoman: Not willinglie to give eare to suche as report ill of other women.
The gentle rock of the rowboat knocked Susanna’s forehead against the rough wood support of the side seat with every ripple that hit the bow. Splinters poked through the sack that encased her, digging into her ski
She was alone, and in this they had been especially wily. They had stuffed her into a hessian sack that stank of oily, wet wool and to the casual eye she was nothing but a lump at the bottom of a small, battered boat tied just off the banks of the river.
Parker would never think to look for her here.
Norfolk would be trying to extort something from him for her safe return. Silence, or aid. And Parker might just accede to his demands to buy a little time to find her, even though he must know as well as she did that Norfolk would never let either of them live.
The icy puddle of water in the well of the boat had seeped through the sack, through her velvet dress, and dug cold fingers into her skin.
She shivered, and the toe of her slipper snagged on something. She tried to hold herself still and feel what it was.
The small opening at the neck of the sack.
She stretched her legs out and kicked, trying not to upset the boat. If it overturned she would sink to the bottom of the Thames. The drawstring stretched open a little way, and then the knot held.
Susanna wiggled her foot, testing for any weakness. The cord pulled tighter into an even more secure knot.
She gave in to frustration and panic, slamming her feet into the side of the small boat. It rocked wildly, tipping deeply to the left, and Susanna froze in terror. When at last the rocking subsided, she said a prayer of thanks.
She couldn’t afford the luxury of panic. She thought of what Parker might be doing to save her. Thought of everything she had to lose, and then carefully pushed her foot into the opening again.
Your Majesty.” Parker bowed low, then he stood before her chair by the fire. She was sewing Henry’s fine linen shirts, her plump, delicate fingers moving easily over the fabric.
“It is not like you to bring intrigue and danger to my chambers, Parker.” She inclined her head toward a chair beside hers, and despite his wish to be off as soon as possible, Parker forced himself to sit without haste or hesitation.
“No, it isn’t.” He sat straight, ready to rise.
“You cannot tell me the details.” It was not a question and she spoke stoically. There was a time, before Parker had come to court, when the Queen would have known the details all too well. Would have been advising Henry. When Katherine’s father made an alliance with the Emperor behind Henry’s back, her husband had never trusted her counsel again.
The Queen took his long silence for agreement and sighed. “What can you tell me, Parker?”
“That time is of the essence. Every minute I lose could be disastrous.”
“It is even less like you to be melodramatic.” She looked at him with clear eyes, and Parker could not help but wonder if she was comparing him to Henry, who loved melodrama. “So I can only assume you are speaking true.”
Parker waited for her to dismiss him, but she stretched the moment out longer.
He must have made some movement, a twitch of impatience, because she smiled. There was something petulant in the quirk of her lips.
“I’m sorry. I should not tease you, but it is all the power I have these days. I give you leave to go.”
Parker stood and bowed again, forcing himself to keep his eyes on her, to give her the respect of her station. “My thanks, Your Majesty.”
She waved him off, but as he bowed, he saw her expression briefly turn bitter.
He couldn’t blame her.
33
The Chiefe Conditions and Qualities in a Courtier: Not to folowe his own fansie, or alter the expresse wordes in any point of his commission from hys Prince or Lorde, onlesse he be assured that the profit will be more, in case it have good successe, then the damage, if it succeade yll.
Of the Chief Conditions and Qualityes in a Waytyng Gentylwoman: To devise sportes and pastimes.
Two men stood near Norfolk’s rooms. They looked up, tense, as Parker strode forward, and he noted they were roughly dressed.
They moved to stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking the way to the door, but Parker didn’t slow down and he had no weapon in either hand. He sensed their surprise, their confusion as he came within striking distance.
“Halt.” One man lifted a thick stick as he spoke, and Parker smiled at him and kept coming. The man jerked back a half-step, a moment before Parker leaped and punched him in the face. In the same movement, he lifted his left arm up and across, slamming his elbow into the second man’s ear. As both fell, Parker flicked his arm, and straightened with his knife in hand. The two lay stunned and groaning on the floor.
It didn’t begin to ease his anger at Susanna’s taking. His hand clenched tight around the knife hilt as he struggled with the yearning to draw blood.
“If you are still in the palace by the time I call the Yeomen of the Guard, you’ll go to the Tower. I would think you have less than a half hour.” He spoke with quiet conviction, and the men dragged themselves to their feet and staggered away.
Parker took out the key he had requested from the Keeper of Greenwich Palace and turned it in the lock.
Norfolk stood beside his desk, and Parker could tell from the dart of his eyes that he knew Parker had overcome his guards. He swallowed convulsively. “There are plenty more where those came from.”
Parker slammed the door behind him. “Given the rank amateurs you’ve drafted into this, I’m sure you’re right.” He lifted his knife. “Where is she, you bastard?”
Norfolk did not hide his satisfaction. “My rank amateurs did a creditable job of spiriting her away, don’t you think?” He smiled and lifted a goblet from the table, then took a sip of wine. “Keeping servants in my employ has never proved so beneficial as today. I thought your little painter would be behind a locked door, so imagine my delight to discover she was in the Queen’s chamber. And who among us can turn down a direct summons from the Queen?”
Parker readjusted his grip on his knife handle.
“Tsk, tsk, Parker.” Norfolk laughed. “Given that her life hangs in the balance, it’s in your interest to keep me alive and well.”
Parker fought the rage and the panic and the fear behind a blank mask, and his body shuddered as he pinned it under control.
“What do you want?”
“That must surely be obvious. I want you to become blind, deaf, and dumb, Parker. I want you to say nothing as I bring forward startling, worrying intelligence that the King’s most trusted men are betraying him.” Norfolk stroked the gold chain around his neck.
“When do you plan to do it?”
“This evening, just before dinner.”
“And what happens if I say nothing?”
Norfolk lifted an eyebrow. “If you say nothing, when you return from the furor, you will find her back in her chamber.”
“What is to stop me speaking out when I have her back?”
Norfolk shrugged. “The damage would be done. The seed planted. That’s all I need.”
“How can I trust you?” Parker’s knuckles tightened to white as he gripped his blade.
Norfolk crossed his arms over his chest. “The only certainty is that if you cross me, she will die.”
Parker watched him for a long moment, then turned and swung the door open.
“See you in the dining hall, Parker.” Norfolk’s call was soft.
Parker’s footsteps didn’t falter. The coldness in Norfolk’s eyes set every instinct humming. No matter how he played this, the only way he’d see Susanna again was if he found her himself.
And he had less than three hours to do it.
Anything?” Parker detached himself from the deep shadow of the courtyard wall as Harry came out of the kitchens, munching on an apple.
Harry nodded, and Parker went back to his dark alcove, making space for Harry to join him.
“Nothing on the Queen’s servant—no one knows, or they ain’t talking, if someone there is taking bribes from Norfolk. But they were talking about a man who bribed a few of them to keep off that back staircase for fifteen minutes during the midday repast.”
Harry stopped to swallow and Parker grabbed the apple out of his hand. “We’ve got three hours before Norfolk kills her, so talk.”
“The man was abrasive and high-handed, insulted most of them even as he paid them. One of ’em thought he was Norfolk’s groom, and then another servant said he’d heard Norfolk was trying to get his mistress into the Queen’s apartments, see if the Queen would take her as a maid of honor. That way he could have her at court at the King’s expense.”
Norfolk’s mistress. The jolt of shock he’d felt when the maid of honor had said the same thing slammed into him again. It was the least cautious move Norfolk had made. A man’s mistress was a direct link to him, the first time Norfolk had allowed his own hand to be seen so close to the action. The act of a desperate man.
“I want to find that mistress. But first, the groom.” He slid a knife off his belt, the one he’d taken from Fielder the day before, and handed it to Harry.
“A loan?” Harry’s eyes widened.
“It’s yours. Let’s go find Susanna.”
Harry touched the knife with something approaching reverence, and Parker recalled the day his own father had given him a small bow to practice with. A rite of passage. He waited until Harry had attached the sheath to his belt, then stepped out of cover to make for the stables. Harry flanked him on his right.
The three men huddled for warmth around a small fire just outside the stable door were friends of Simon’s. Parker stepped up to them easily.
“I have a problem.” He kept his voice pitched low.
They stepped closer, heads bent toward him.
“I need to find Norfolk’s groom, and I need to find him before he knows I’m looking for him.”
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