Keeper of the King’s Secrets

by Michelle Diener

  “I don’t know the whole of it. I am glad that I don’t. But Jens let one thing slip, and it was then I realized how much trouble he had led me into by his contact.” The man shifted his gaze to the bank above, and then dropped his voice even further. “Jens was in London to assess a gem. The Mirror of Naples. I do not know who commissioned him to undertake the task, only that he discovered there was more to the job than merely valuing it and verifying what it was. He would not cooperate with the larger plot, and he and his employer fell out over it. He became a hunted man.”

  Parker stared at him. “You are sure of this?”

  The man nodded.

  Parker stepped away, and the merchant cowered back as if expecting him to strike. But Parker was already fumbling for a coin each for the watermen for their help, tossing them through the air to them. He ran back up the narrow path that led to the road, leaving the merchant to his own devices.

  Whoever was behind this, if they were trying to steal the Mirror of Naples, then they were surely trying to force the King into war.

  14

  It is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity.

  —Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 15

  The King was back at Bridewell.

  It saved Parker riding out to him, for which he was infinitely grateful.

  He kept hold of Susanna as they skirted the chaos of the courtyard, trying to avoid the mud. He shoved a little harder than he usually would against the crush of bodies as he forged a path into the great hall.

  A monkey was screeching and chattering, causing cries and yelps as it ran over the heads and shoulders of the servants lifting trunks and chests.

  It leaped at Parker, landing on his shoulder and clutching tight to his cloak. Parker could feel it shivering, hopping from side to side with agitation.

  Susanna stopped, uncertain, and he grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and held it away from her.

  “He won’t hurt you.”

  Parker saw Will Somers approaching, stoop-shouldered and gaunt, his face for once free of any mockery.

  “Come here, lambkin,” Somers said.

  Parker held the monkey out and it jumped into Somers’s arms and then scuttled to his shoulder, chattering softly in his ear. Somers stroked its golden brown fur with a long, bony finger. “You were frightened by this unholy racket, weren’t you, lambkin?”

  “Where is the King?” Parker drew Susanna closer as two servants staggered past with a massive chest.

  “In his bedchamber, and when he has bathed and changed his clothes, he’ll move to the Privy Chamber.” Somers bowed to Susanna and then to Parker. “You missed all manner of excitement in the country.”

  “I have excitement enough of my own. Is the King much harmed?”

  Somers shook his head. “He’s well enough, thanks to his groom. The lad will be well rewarded for his quick thinking. He jumped down into the mud with His Majesty and pulled him out.”

  “That must have given you some good material, Fool.”

  Somers laughed. “I haven’t been with the King long enough to make light of his near death.” He gave a theatrical wave of his hand. “Although if the King continues so hale, hearty, and energetic, I may yet have the chance.”

  “I must speak with the King before he moves to the Privy Chamber, so we will take our leave.” Parker gave a quick bow, but Somers laid a hand on his arm.

  “What trouble have you been stirring up, Parker? The moment the King arrived, Wolsey was in with him, complaining about you.”

  Parker looked hard at Somers, then at his hand. With exaggerated flourish, Somers lifted it up, extending a finger and giving a little twirl.

  “So taciturn. So fierce. I have been here only a month, and already I have learned that you are the one to watch out for. And you are so silent and stealthy, you give me nothing to mock.”

  Parker still said nothing, and Somers gave a great laugh that rose from his belly. “Ah, how can I deny you? The King has ordered all but his Fool to be banished from his presence while his servants change his clothes, and since you are such a sweet talker, I will get you before him.”

  “We are much obliged.” Susanna curtsied, and Somers looked at her thoughtfully.

  Parker drew her even closer. “Lead on, Fool.”

  Henry was being dried. Parker saw his lips drawn into a snarl as he endured the nervous pats of one of his servants of the body, and braced himself for the King’s bad mood.

  “Your Majesty.” Parker bowed.

  Henry looked up and some of his irritation faded. “Parker. What news?”

  He would have to play this carefully. “There is something afoot, I fear.”

  Henry lost his scowl completely and rubbed his hands together. “Ah. Tell me. I am in dire need of distraction from my troubles.”

  “This may add to them.” Parker kept his eyes on the King’s face.

  Henry laughed, a bitter, hard sound. “They are so heavy now, I don’t expect a little extra weight will make much difference.” He stepped into fresh body linen and gave Parker a nod to continue.

  “I think we should have this discussion alone, Your Majesty.” Parker knew Norfolk’s habit of insinuating spies into the King’s service, and Wolsey was known for doing the same. None of the listening ears in this room could be trusted.

  “Out then, all of you.”

  Parker held out a robe for the King to put on while the room emptied.

  Henry shrugged into it and sat beside the fire, and for the first time, Parker thought the weight of rule rested heavily on his shoulders.

  “Are you truly well from the fall?”

  “Aye. In body, I am fine. It is the squabbling over who will succeed me if I should die that makes me sick of spirit.”

  “What will you do?” There were only a few options open to the King, and none of them would make everyone happy.

  “I think to make Fitzroy a Knight of the Garter. Elevate him, prepare him. He has not the legitimacy of Mary, but he is a boy. The nobles will not take well to a woman on the throne.”

  “It is a problem.” Parker eased into a chair beside the King.

  Henry snorted. “My one child is a girl, the other is a bastard. Katherine will not bear me another.” He stared into the fire. “I can hear the howls of the dogs closing in on me.” Then he roused himself. “What is this secret news?”

  “I have stumbled upon a plot. I am not sure of it, but it may be the French are trying to steal the Mirror of Naples. Either as a ransom payment to the Emperor for the return of the French king, or to restore France’s pride.”

  Henry stared at him, openmouthed. “They would steal the Mirror of Naples? From me?”

  Parker turned his gaze to the fire. “Some may say they were simply stealing it back.”

  Henry let out a laugh. “Some may. They may even be right, but they’d better not say it in my hearing.” He tapped a fist on his thigh. “If they succeed, we would look foolish. Even with their king captured, they would have bested us.”

  “Aye.” Parker rose up. “With your permission I would see the jewel, see where it is kept and what can be done to safeguard it.”

  “Speak to Wyatt. He’s the Master of the King’s Jewels.” Henry rose as well. “What alerted you to this, Parker?”

  “An assassin, Your Majesty.”

  “An assassin?” Henry’s eyes widened.

  “A man who has killed one of the most important witnesses to the plot and has dogged my heels, trying to silence the others.”

  “A marksman?”

  “The best I have ever encountered.” Parker went to the door.

  Henry watched him from the fire, and there was a new awareness in his eyes. This was no longer a distraction from his succession troubles. “Watch your back, then.”

  “I intend to.”

  15

  A wise prince should establish himself on that which is in his own con
trol and not in that of others.

  —Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 17

  Susanna flexed her fingers and rued her lack of charcoal and paper.

  Somers and his monkey were watching her, looming over her seat in the passageway outside the King’s chambers, and she wondered what he would say if she asked to draw him. His cheekbones were as prominent as the haunches of a starving cow, and he had the tall, stooped appearance of Death itself.

  Parker had been unwilling to leave her, but even he conceded the King was not likely to welcome a woman into his bedchamber while he was dressing.

  “I will let no harm befall her,” Somers had offered before Parker could even make the request, and he’d given a sharp nod and gone through the doors, as if not to waste a minute.

  “What delights have you been up to today, my lady?”

  Susanna laughed. “The delights of watching some boating on the Thames.”

  “Ah, there is a story there, I can tell.” Somers rubbed his hands together, but Susanna shook her head.

  “Not one that can be repeated.”

  Somers turned his mouth and eyes down at the corners as if to cry. “It is a good thing most courtiers are not so mean with the details, my lady. I would have nothing to occupy me.”

  Susanna smiled. “I’m sure you have enough, without ours.”

  “I get by.” Somers spoke deadpan, and Susanna smiled again.

  She was sure he did more than get by in the viper pit that was the court. She had never met him before today, but now she understood how he’d become the King’s favorite so quickly. He seemed to take excitement with him—the promise of laughter clung to him as tightly as his monkey on his shoulder. Something Henry would find infinitely appealing.

  “Ho, Somers.” A man walked toward them, his eyes bright and intelligent. And curious.

  She saw him look at her sidelong, as if he were embarrassed to acknowledge her directly.

  She had no such qualms herself. He was magnificent; handsome enough to make girls swoon. His hair curled over his shoulders in a fair wave, and she didn’t doubt he had but to crook a finger to have a lady on each arm.

  Somers clicked his tongue like an admonishing mother. “Do you have no courtly manners, Wyatt? I’m sure I’ve seen you bow prettily to the ladies a time or two. Why do you not do so to the beauty beside me?”

  Wyatt blushed, and Susanna liked him immediately.

  “I beg your pardon, madame, I thought …” His words trailed off and his blush seemed to deepen.

  “He thought you were perhaps waiting for an audience with our half-clothed Majesty, eh?” Somers rolled his eyes and Susanna blushed herself.

  This was not the first time she had been mistaken for one of the King’s mistresses. Most of the Queen’s ladies in waiting had taken her for such only a month ago. Even the King’s current mistress had taken her for a rival.

  Somers took pity on them. “My lady, this mannerless cur is the poet and layabout Thomas Wyatt. Wyatt, I present the King’s painter, Mistress Horenbout. My lady is Parker’s betrothed.”

  Wyatt bowed very low. “Forgive me, my lady. I have been away from court for a time, and though I had heard the King had a beautiful and talented painter, and that Parker had swooped like the hawk he is and snatched her for himself, I have not had the pleasure of seeing you before.”

  Somers rolled his eyes again and Susanna dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  “I heard you were away, trying to make a certain lady of the court happier about her banishment to the country.” Somers’s voice was sly, yet light and teasing at the same time. It was difficult to dislike him.

  Wyatt looked at him with annoyance. “You have the ears of an elephant, Fool. Where do you come by your information?”

  “Oh, there is plenty of talk, especially since Lady Anne almost got Percy to break his betrothal in order to marry her.”

  “Anne Boleyn is no schemer.” Wyatt seemed outraged at the suggestion. “She was in love with Percy. She’s fuming that Wolsey had her sent away from court for following her heart.”

  Susanna stiffened at the mention of the name Boleyn, and she caught Somers watching her with a knowing expression.

  “Mistress Horenbout does not like the Boleyn family. Am I right?”

  In this one thing, when it came to the Boleyns, Susanna was not prepared to play the courtly game of courtesy and denial. “I do not. As you must know why, I’m sure you don’t blame me.”

  “What wrong has Anne done to you?” Wyatt gaped at her, aghast.

  “None. It is her brother I do not like.”

  Wyatt frowned. “What has George done—”

  He cut off suddenly at the look on her face, and flushed.

  “I know he is sometimes less … genteel than he should be when it comes to women.”

  “He sees”—Somers lifted an open palm level with his eyes—“and he takes.” He threw his hand forward, closing it into a fist.

  “He will not attempt to take my betrothed again.” Parker was suddenly beside them. “Unless he wishes to die by my hand.”

  “Or mine.” Susanna spoke quietly, but all three men heard her. Somers looked interested; Wyatt’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Wyatt, you have saved me some time. Come with me.” Although Parker spoke to Wyatt, he looked only at her. He put out a hand to her and Susanna took it, heart thundering, as he pulled her to her feet. He had a way of looking at her, intense and exciting, that could make the rest of the room fade to nothing.

  “I’m afraid I need to speak with the King, Parker, about a matter—”

  “The King is taking no audience now, Wyatt. And his orders are that your father assist me.” There was not the smallest bend in Parker’s tone, and Wyatt took a step back.

  “Aye? Then of course I am your man.”

  “Good. Let us discuss our business elsewhere.”

  Somers’s gaze darted between them with growing delight. “Now what could this be?”

  Parker looked at him steadily, and the Fool rose to his feet and laughed. “I’m leaving, Parker; I’m leaving.” He minced away, his monkey’s tail swishing irritably from his shoulder, and just before he turned down the passageway, he gave a little wave.

  “What is afoot?” Wyatt cocked his head.

  “I need to see one of the King’s jewels.”

  Wyatt moved uncomfortably. “To have it reset?”

  Parker shook his head. “To make sure it’s still there.”

  16

  … and men are so simple, and so subject to present necessities, that he who seeks to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived.

  —Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 18

  The Mirror of Naples was gone.

  Wyatt stared down at the empty cask in the jewel house at Westminster, his face ashen. “Perhaps my father is having it cleaned, or has put it elsewhere.”

  Parker reached out a hand and fingered the untampered lock. “You are the Clerk of the King’s Jewels; your father is the Master. You would know if a jewel of this importance was out of its cask for any reason, as part of your duties.”

  Wyatt hesitated a moment. “My father and I are not always in the best of humors with each other. He thinks I should try harder with my marriage, that I should behave more chastely with other women because of my marriage vows.” Wyatt fiddled with the sleeves of his doublet. “He was furious with me for leaving London two weeks ago to return to our country estate. It is possible he made arrangements for the jewel without my knowledge.”

  Wyatt was lying. The tremble of his hands, the fine line of perspiration on his lip, gave him away.

  Parker tapped his lips. “Why did you leave London two weeks ago?”

  Wyatt started. “Anne Boleyn, whose family estate neighbors my own family holdings, was sent home by Wolsey some weeks ago. I went to keep company with her, cheer her up.”

  “Why did Wolsey have her sent away?” Perhaps he should try harder to listen to
court gossip, but he never had the patience for it.

  Wyatt clenched a fist and turned away. “She formed an attachment to a young courtier, Percy, but he was already betrothed. When he asked his father to break the betrothal to marry Anne, Wolsey had Anne sent home, and his father married him to his betrothed before the week was out.” His voice was bitter as chicory, and Parker thought Wyatt a man who was made for ripe peaches.

  “You are fond of Mistress Boleyn.” Susanna spoke as if stating a fact. She held a piece of parchment, the inventory, if Parker was any judge, and had rolled it open.

  Wyatt nodded. “If I could have chosen whom to wed …” He looked out the window.

  “What does the jewel look like?” Susanna ran a finger down the list in her hand.

  “It is a diamond as long as a man’s middle finger, with a massive pearl dangling from it.” Wyatt spoke tonelessly.

  “And His Majesty somehow took it from the King of France?” Susanna frowned. “How could that be?”

  Parker exchanged a look with Wyatt. “His sister, Mary, received it as part of her bridal gifts when she became Queen of France. When she was widowed, she took it, although it was part of the French crown jewels and not hers to take. She gave it to Henry as a way to make things right with him.”

  “Make things right? What did she do?”

  There was a moment of silence. This was not a story told in public. It could land the teller in trouble. Parker leaned back against the wall, and when he spoke, his voice was low. “The King sent his best friend, Charles Brandon, to fetch Mary back to England when Louis died. Mary had long been in love with Brandon, and she insisted that they marry in France without her brother’s permission, before Henry could use her in another diplomatic marriage. To avoid Henry’s fury at their outrageous behavior, she presented him with the Mirror of Naples. The nobles were calling for Brandon’s head on the block, but Henry was mollified enough by the payment of a hefty fine, and the diamond, to forgive them.”