Chapter Thirteen

 

and this is all the success that I can have in a court, for I must always differ from the rest, and then I shall signify nothing; or, if I agree with them, I shall then only help forward their madness.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

 

With every step he took away from her, Parker’s failure weighed heavier on his shoulders. She was so vulnerable, at the mercy of too many who meant her harm.

He needed Peter Jack in those rooms with her. Knife in his boot and eyes open.

He was running by the time he reached Crooked Lane, his chest heaving as he pulled himself up the back stairs. A clawed fear-demon held fast to his lungs, squeezing them, piercing them mercilessly.

Harry, Peter Jack, Eric and Mistress Greene were on their feet as he stepped into the kitchen. White, fearful faces turning to him in expectation.

“She is in the Tower.”

Mistress Greene let out a single, whooping sob, then choked back the ones that would follow it. “What is the charge?”

“Wolsey accuses her of treason.”

At Harry’s shout of protest, he held up his hand.

“He has no proof. Absolutely none. He has moved against her too quickly, and that is at least one thing in our favour. That and she has the support of the Queen.”

“How will that help her?” Peter Jack’s voice cracked.

“It already has. The Queen bade the Tower Wardens take her to the royal apartments in the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, to the rooms she once gave to the Duc de Longueville. Susanna is in comfort, not in the dungeons, as Wolsey would have her.”

Mistress Greene sank down on the bench by the fire. “Thank the Good Lord.”

“What do we do?” Harry moved closer to the door, as if to leave immediately, and Parker felt a lift in the crushing weight that dragged at him.

“I persuaded the Captain to allow her a servant. I need Peter Jack there to keep watch on her, and to warn me if Wolsey makes any move. The Warden has guaranteed free passage.”

“And Harry?” Peter Jack scowled.

Parker cocked his head, looked properly at Peter Jack. “Harry and his lads are going to help me spy on Wolsey. To see who comes to him with information, and to watch where he goes.” He kept his voice calm, fighting the urge to roar. He did not have time for anything but immediate obedience.

“They were once my lads, too.”

“’Til you gave it all up for this.” Harry spoke quietly, hand flicking the air to encompass the kitchen, the house. The security of it all.

“You’re in here, too, aren’t you?” Peter Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “You look to have gotten the best of both.” He turned to Parker, his eyes narrowed. “You always leave me behind, and take him into the thick of the action—”

“Stop it.” Eric shoved Peter Jack hard enough to make him stumble. His slight body, only shoulder-height to his brother, vibrated with rage. “You think you’re left out of the action? What about me? You don’t think protecting my lady is a worthy job? I’ll do it.” He spun, facing Parker. “I’ll do it!”

Parker flicked his gaze from face to face. How had this blown up now, when every second counted? “Peter Jack, you once told Susanna you’d fight for her—”

“Yes, I’ll fight for her. I want to kill her swine of a brother for doing this to us, I want to help stop Wolsey. Not sit in the Tower with her, sucking my teeth.”

“I’ll watch her.” Harry stepped closer to Eric, touched a quivering shoulder. “Maybe we can do it together? You’re good in a fight, Eric, but the Tower Wardens are big, and if something happens . . . you could get help while I stand guard.”

Peter Jack opened his mouth, but Parker had had enough. “Harry, your lads will report to me, or Peter Jack?”

Harry gave a nod. “I’ll speak to them.” He turned without waiting and left, leaving the door open behind him.

Peter Jack watched him go, a hunted look in his eyes.

“Sir, I—”

Parker held up a hand, and in the silence that followed, he heard a sound.

The creak of floorboards by the entrance.

He launched himself at the passageway, but the front door had already slammed shut. When he flung it open and ran out into Crooked Lane, there was no one there.

He spun on his heel, almost colliding with Peter Jack, and raced back into the house, up the stairs and burst into the spare room.

Lucas Horenbout sat with his head in his hands on the bed. On the floor lay the rope that had tied Jan Heyman, but the musician had gone.

“What did you do?” Parker slapped Lucas’s hands away, and his head jerked up.

His face was pale, tinged with green, and his hand shook as he lifted it to wipe away a line of sweat on his brow.

“What did you tie Jan up for? He woke me, begging to be released.” His voice was weak, wavering.

Parker took a step back. Breathed deeply. The air in the room was stale, and he could smell the sharp odour of sweat.

“Where is Susanna?” Lucas gently lifted his hand to press the skin around the lump at the back of his head.

“Exactly where you made sure she would go.” Parker walked to the window and flung it open to purge the sour air of the room. “The Tower.”

* * *

The walls of Susanna’s prison were whitewashed, and set with dark beams. Her windows were large, paned with glass, and looked out over Tower Green, to the menace of the White Tower.

There was little furniture in the expansive, comfortable rooms, though, and she could only think that they had been taken for use elsewhere. A table and chair sat under one of the windows and two short benches were angled near the fireplace. That was the sum of it.

Kilburne eyed the room critically and muttered something about finding more furnishings.

She did not care if he did, or not. She wandered though a doorway, and found the bedchamber. There was a bed in it. An enormous one, and she could only think it had not been taken because of the difficulty in moving it down the steep stairs.

The back wall of the bedroom was of grey stone, part of the Bell Tower which the Lieutenant’s Lodgings leant up against. She could feel the tower looming over her, cold and harsh.

“The bell will ring each night to call the curfew. I will interpret the Queen’s orders concerning you to include the freedom of the grounds. You can take your ease on the Green, but when the bell rings, you must return to your rooms.” Kilburne stood, uncomfortable, in the doorway of the bedchamber. “I am sure Parker will send your servant soon.”

“Servant?” She lifted her head.

“I gave leave for a servant. He will have free passage from the Tower, but if he is outside the Tower after curfew, he won’t be allowed back in until the next morning. And he cannot leave the grounds between curfew and morning, either.”

“My thanks.”

He looked away. Her gratitude seemed to prick his conscience.

“I left my satchel in the Queen’s Chambers. Can I have it returned?” She walked towards him, and he edged out of the doorway, back into the main chamber, relieved.

“What is in it?” His voice took on a sharper edge, suspicious.

“My pigments and brushes. My parchment and charcoal. I have a number of commissions to complete for the King, and I will need them if I am to fulfil my obligations.”

“What were you doing this morning with the Queen?” Kilburne went to stand by a window, looking out over the Green.

“I was there to present her with a portrait of the Princess Mary.”

“A portrait? I saw none.” He turned, his eyes narrowed.

“The Queen held it in her hands when she spoke to you.” Susanna kept her tone mild. “It is on an oak panel, about this big.” She showed him with her hands. “A small portrait the Queen can take with her when she travels with the King. Something she can look at whenever she wants.”

She saw he recalled the Queen was holding something in her hands, and nodded slowly. “What has Wolsey against you?”

She shrugged. “A few months ago I prevented him from achieving a goal. And he has never forgiven me for it.”

Kilburne stared at her a long time, as if trying to understand how a woman with no powerful connections could stand in the Cardinal’s way. “There is more to this than I wish to know.”

“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.