Chapter Twenty-four

 

Nature inclines us to enter into society; for there is no man so much raised above the rest of mankind as to be the only favourite of Nature, who, on the contrary, seems to have placed on a level all those that belong to the same species.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

 

“The Cardinal is coming. The Cardinal is coming.” Eric was breathless as he burst into the room. “We have to hide.”

“How close?” Susanna stood from the table and met him at the door, Harry just behind her.

“On the approach to the Gate. He’s just turned onto Petty Wales. Five minutes away.”

“Let’s go.” Susanna stepped out into the passage and then ran along to the end, through the door into the Bell Tower.

“We’ll be trapped up there.” Harry stood firm, near her door.

“We aren’t going to stay there. We’re going to ring the bell.” She’d thought about it all morning. Ringing the bell when there was no actual threat to the Tower may land her in trouble, but it couldn’t compare to the trouble she would be in if Wolsey was able to walk through those gates with his writ.

Eric was already behind her, and Harry followed, still reluctant.

“What will that do?”

“Kilburne told me if the bell is rung out of curfew times, it signals the Tower is under attack. The guards lock the gates and raise the drawbridge.”

“The Cardinal won’t be able to come in.” Eric laughed.

“And we give Parker more time to reach us.” She was gasping as she spoke, near the top now.

She burst into the open-air belfry and grabbed for the rope, hooked neatly over its holder.

“I might need help.” She pulled down, and the bell swung, but not enough, it didn’t touch the clapper. Eric took hold just below her own hands and pulled with her a second time. The clapper made a small twang against the side. Harry reached above her hands, and the three of them jumped and pulled down with everything they had.

The bell rang out, the clearest, sweetest sound, and they did it again, and again.

“Listen.” Eric let go, and pointed toward the gate, and then she heard it too. The sound of the drawbridge coming up, the rattle of chains as the portcullises dropped.

“We did it.” Harry shouted a laugh, the sound of it drowned out by the counter-swing of the bell coming down for one last ring.

“Let’s find somewhere to hide.” Susanna spun to the stairs.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Jean’s voice came just as the bell fell silent, his words clear and loud in the belfry. He stood a few steps from the stairs, to the left, and he moved his crossbow a little to the side so she could see his face.

Susanna’s mouth hung open. She closed it slowly and continued to stare at the assassin. He was dressed in the uniform of the Tower guards.

Then they all heard the sound of someone running up the stairs, and they all turned to the door, as Kilburne burst through.

“What is this?” Kilburne stood at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily, his sword drawn. He frowned at Jean, trying to place him among his men.

“I’m afraid your bell rung a little too late.” Jean spoke with laughter in his voice. “The enemy is already within.”

Kilburne almost stepped back in shock, catching himself just in time before he fell backward down the steep stairs. “Who are you? You aren’t one of my men.”

Jean flicked his crossbow right, indicating Kilburne come round to stand with the others, and the captain reluctantly complied.

“You’re right, I’m not one of your men, but I’m sure some of them will be along soon, Captain, so . . .” Jean pointed the bow at Eric. “Mistress Horenbout, you will come with me, or I will shoot the little boy.”

Susanna did not hesitate. Better than anyone, she knew Jean would do whatever he threatened. She took a step toward him.

“Wait.” He held up a hand. “First, I’d like you to drop that knife you have up your sleeve.” He took aim at Eric again, and she pulled her sleeve up, and unstrapped the blade Parker had given her. Dropped it to the floor.

Kilburne looked at her with eyes wide with horror.

“Good. I learned my lesson from last time we met, madame. Now come here.”

She went to stand by his side, and Harry gave a strangled cry of frustration as Jean drew her in front of him, and placed a knife to her throat.

“If I hear a footstep on the stairs before I reach the bottom, I will slit her throat, and you can explain that to your master.”

Harry fisted his hands and she saw agony in his eyes as Jean pulled her after him, down into the Bell Tower.

She was surprised when he put her in front of him, but did not keep his hold on her throat, letting her move under her own power. She could feel the knife near her neck, the blade touching her lightly when she didn’t move fast enough. It made her shiver.

The weight of the King’s ring pulled at her left sleeve, and she thought it ironic her last resort was worthless to her now. The ring would mean something to Wolsey, would stop him in his tracks, but it meant nothing to Jean. Except as something to steal.

“How did you get in?”

He snorted. “That was easy enough. It is how I am going to get out now you have raised the alarm that occupies my thoughts.”

“Why are you here? Why didn’t you simply kill me in the Bell Tower belfry, rather than having the inconvenience of dragging me down the stairs?”

Jean clucked his tongue. “Despite what I threatened your young bodyguard above, I am not here to kill you.”

Susanna almost stumbled on the step, and his hand came out to steady her. “What do you want with me, then?”

“Two things, as it happens.”

She was silent, waiting for him to go on.

“The current whereabouts of the Mirror of Naples, naturally, and I also have an offer to put to you.”

“An offer?” She stopped on the stairs and turned to look up at him.

“Yes. I am not sure what your answer will be, but I will take the chance of rejection. Would you come away with me, to France?”

“Come away with you to France?” She repeated the words, unable to take their meaning.

He sighed, as if she were a very slow child. “As my lover.”

* * *

Parker could not help the smile on his face as Wolsey approached, walking slower now he could see there would be no quick entry into the Tower. Peter Jack had reached his side. He was limping, and he stopped just at Parker’s left shoulder. Parker risked a quick look at him before he turned back to Wolsey and he did not hide the pride and respect in his eyes.

Peter Jack held his gaze.

“Your Grace.” Parker turned to Wolsey, but did not bow.

The Cardinal did not reply.

Parker saw Wolsey’s eyes flick to his face. He raised a hand and wiped away the blood from the man he had cut at Belin’s Gate. It was already beginning to dry, and it flaked off from his cheek as he rubbed.

They said nothing.

There were two dead men, and their deaths were on his and Wolsey’s hands, both. The weight of them was as heavy as if both bodies were draped across Parker’s shoulders.

“They died for nothing.” Parker looked beyond Wolsey, to his two men, standing just behind him. “The King issued a writ to stay you, Wolsey.”

Wolsey made a hissing sound, like a kettle boiling dry. “The King is away.”

“The King is away, you are right. Away in Epping Forest. And he was none too pleased to have me track him down there in the middle of his hunt and ask him to stop you damaging his artist beyond repair, searching for proof that doesn’t exist.” Parker paused. “Might I clarify, none too pleased with you.”

Wolsey’s eyes flared, hatred and frustration burning bright. “You interfere in everything, damn you.”

Parker eyed him like he would a rabid dog. “That is my betrothed you planned to torture, Cardinal. Did you think I would stand aside and watch?”

“Your loyalty to the King should come before your loyalty to her.” Wolsey spat the words.

“You did not have her arrested out of concern for the King, you hypocrite. You did it to punish her for what happened a few months ago. When Renard came to you with a story, but no proof, you were only too eager to believe it.”

Wolsey flinched as he said Renard’s name. “How . . ?”

“I know all about Renard.” Parker watched Wolsey’s face with interest. “I know he was no French spy. He was turned by de Praet. He’s been feeding you false information since the Comte returned to France.”

Wolsey turned white-faced. He staggered a little, as if about to faint.

“Renard wanted Susanna imprisoned because he thought she might know something to the King’s advantage. Something that would put the Emperor in a difficult position.” He laughed softly at the irony. “The one person who could help you win the King away from the Emperor to support France, and you had her locked up and planned to torture her.”

Wolsey finally had control of himself again. His hands shook, and his lips were pursed, but he had drawn himself together, his shoulders stiff.

“Let me see the writ.” He held out his hand.

“I want an independent witness. I will not have you tear it up or throw it to the wind.” Parker crossed his arms over his chest.

Wolsey choked in outrage, but the sound was drowned out by the clank and rattle of the drawbridge being lowered again and the portcullises raised.

There were shouts behind him, and Parker turned to the side, still keeping Wolsey and his men in sight.

Harry and Eric were running towards him and Kilburne followed behind at a half-jog.

He had a terrible sense of wrongness. Their faces, the tears on Eric’s face, brought a rushing of fear, a waterfall of panic that drowned out all other noise. “Where is Susanna?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Harry was gasping, fighting back tears himself, and Parker felt a chill run down him. He had never seen Harry cry. Ever.

“What happened?” Peter Jack spoke for him.

“Jean took her.” Eric threw himself into his brother’s arms. “He grabbed her and put a knife to her throat and dragged her away.”

Parker turned to Harry, sure there must be—

“He has it right.” Harry scrubbed at his face. “That bastard appeared, cool as you please, and took her.”

“Is this the only gate that’s been opened?” Parker grabbed Kilburne’s arm.

“Aye.”

Parker tucked the writ back in his pouch. “Then they are still in there, somewhere.”