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.”