“There is more to this than I wish to know.” She crossed her arms in front of her, and stared back at him. “And yet, here we both stand.”
Kilburne shook himself, as if trying to wake from a dream, or shake water from his eyes. “My men will not harm you again.” He moved to the door.
“They want to.”
Her words stopped him dead. “My apologies for what happened. I don’t think it will happen again.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not reassured that you are not absolutely certain.”
He rubbed his face with his hands. “You are in more trouble than I first thought.”
Susanna smiled as he stepped out her rooms, and knew Kilburne’s hesitation before swinging shut the door was because of the bleakness he saw in her face. She waited for the click as the door closed. Tightened her arms in front of her. She was in trouble, that was certain, and being a prisoner in the Tower was the least of it.
Chapter Fourteen
he would rather govern rich men than be rich himself; since for one man to abound in wealth and pleasure when all about him are mourning and groaning, is to be a gaoler and not a king.
Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)
Horenbout stared at Parker, mouth open. “The Tower.” He stuttered out the words.
“She was arrested this morning.”
Lucas jumped to his feet, gasping, and leapt for the basin in the corner of the room.
Parker watched him dispassionately as he vomited and heaved, until at last he stood, spent and shaking, his breathing harsh.
“I never meant . . .” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I never thought . . .”
Parker straightened. He had never wanted to kill someone so badly. Every muscle, every tendon, screamed for action, screamed for him to flick his arm, palm his knife and throw it.
Straight into Horenbout’s throat.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Lucas’s eyes were wide, and Parker smelt the stink of fear in his sweat.
“My life was calm, happy, before you came along, Horenbout. Now my betrothed is in the Tower and my life has gone to hell.” He couldn’t help it, he did palm his knife into his hand.
“She is my sister. You think I wanted this?”
Parker flicked the knife upward, so it arced through the air. He caught it by the hilt. “You knew it was a possibility. But you endangered her anyway. Without asking her permission, without any precautions. The speed with which your plan has been uncovered tells me this was either done by amateurs, or someone wanted you and Susanna in trouble.”
“I didn’t engineer this. I’m just the messenger,” Lucas shouted, then gripped his head, rocking on his heels. “Mijn God.” He looked about to faint.
Parker felt no sympathy. “Why did you run yesterday? Who hit you over the head?”
Lucas groaned, and stumbled to the bed, flopped down on it and lay, eyes closed. “I was upstairs in my room. I saw someone come over the wall. He looked like a ruffian, a thug.” Lucas massaged his temples. “I grabbed a few things, and ran out the front door.”
“Straight to your meeting with Heyman.”
Horenbout’s eyes flew open at that. “He told you of our meeting?”
“He thought it would prove he didn’t knock you senseless.”
“Jan didn’t hit me over the head.”
“Who did then?” Parker stepped right up to the bed, to read his brother-in-law’s eyes.
“I never saw them, they came from behind—”
“Then it could have been Heyman. He was certainly the only one we found on the scene. And he knew where you would be, and when.”
“I don’t believe it,” Lucas whispered. “We . . .” He fell silent, cast a quick glance at Parker from the corner of his eye, and then winced at the pain it cost him. “I won’t believe it.”
Parker took a step back from the bed. Lucas and Heyman both went quiet with fear when he probed about their association. Heyman had risked serious harm when he’d refused to answer.
Someone very powerful lay behind this.
Someone they thought could reach right into Henry’s court, if they so wished.
“The Emperor Charles.” He didn’t know he had spoken aloud until Horenbout groaned, and turned away, his head in his hands.
“Leave me alone.” He buried his face into his pillow.
“Oh, I will. My lady is locked in the Tower, and I need to find a way to free her without jeopardizing our entire future at court.”
Horenbout lifted himself up. “And if you can’t?” He looked like a madman, ready for a place in Saint Mary of Bethlehem, his hair standing straight up and his eyes wide and desperate.
“If I can’t, I’ll have to find a way to free her and escape England.”
“You think me to blame for this, but I’ve sacrificed as well. Tried to protect us all—”
“If there is anything you know that can help me, tell me now.” Parker cut him off, sick of the sight of him. He moved towards the door.
Horenbout looked ready to speak, then sank back onto his pillow. Turned his face away.
Parker hesitated at the threshold. “If you know something useful and are holding it back and Susanna is hurt, no place you hide will be safe from me.”
He took the stairs at a run, and behind him, he heard Lucas begin to sob.
* * *
The last time Parker had been this nervous before meeting the King, he’d been young, without connections, with nothing but a dangerous letter and his wits as currency.
Things were all too different now. He had so much more to lose, but he walked past the courtiers and other Privy Chamber gentlemen, towards the guards of the King’s Closet, without hesitation or falter.
One of the guards stepped into the Closet, and Parker heard his name murmured. But when the man stepped back out, he shook his head.
“His Majesty is busy, he can see no one.”
Parker wanted to push them aside and walk in, anyway. But after his unthinking comment the night before, he was not as sure of his welcome as he usually would be.
“This is urgent.”
The guard hesitated, but he had delivered urgent messages from Parker before, and eventually the man stepped back in. He heard the King’s voice, sharp and annoyed, and the guard had a deep flush on his cheeks when he appeared at the door.
“Aye. Proceed.” He stepped aside for Parker to enter.
“Your Majesty.” Parker bowed in the doorway, and waited for Henry to invite him in.
The King looked up from his papers and gave a nod, and Parker stepped inside. The door closed behind him.
Francis Bryan stood beside the King, freshly returned from some diplomatic mission abroad. Parker had missed seeing him these last few months.
Henry didn’t send Bryan out, and Parker knew he was being punished for last night’s blunders. Being denied a private audience.
Bryan looked between them, uncomfortable. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his hands shook, the tip of a quill fluttering between his fingers.
“My betrothed was arrested from the Queen’s chambers this morning and taken to the Tower.” Parker did not let the anger that flared up just saying the words show on his face.
Henry let his quill fall. “Wolsey?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Bryan’s head jerk at the news.
Parker nodded.
“I didn’t authorise it.” Henry spoke slowly, a frown creasing his forehead.
“I know.” Parker flexed his hands. “Will you authorise her release?”
Henry leaned back in his chair, and pressed the tips of his fingers together. “I cannot ignore Wolsey’s accusations. If Mistress Horenbout is innocent of the charges my Lord Chancellor has made against her, she will be released soon enough.”
“You know why he’s done this.” Parker kept the fury from his voice with an effort of will. “She was acting for you when she made Wolsey her enemy. Risked her life in
your service.” Parker took a step towards the King, and Henry shifted in his chair. Scraped it back and walked to the window, looking out at the river.
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)
The 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 Ma
jesty, 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.
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