She nodded, and looked over her shoulder to see the bridge coming up. The boats waiting the tide out were clustered to the left, near Old Swan, and Parker swung the boat right to go around them.
The tension in the ropes was more flaccid since Jean had put two holes through the sail, but the boat still moved sweet and true through the water. Parker heard calls and whistles from the boatmen as they rounded the little fleet, then cries of alarm as they headed straight for the arches.
“Wait!” Jean’s shout carried over the hiss and roar of the churning water coming up, and Parker twisted on the bench toward him.
The assassin had his bow in his hand, and deliberately dropped it into the water. “Don’t do it. I won’t shoot.”
Too late.
The current gripped the craft and spun it, and Susanna cried out as she was thrown across the boat.
The box flew from her hands, sailing over the side.
As they were sucked through the arch he heard a scream, and the last thing he saw before the darkness of the tunnel was Jean leaping into the Thames.
37
Because the King of France would have made a thousand excuses, and the others would have raised a thousand fears.
—Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 25
Hell was noise and wet and darkness, with an inexorable force hauling them through the long arch toward the light at the end.
Susanna’s hair flew about her face as they shot through the water.
“Brace!”
Parker’s call was unnecessary. She was on the floor of the boat, gripping the bench so tight her hands ached. She lifted her head as the vessel went airborne, saw the foam and the spray all around her.
The boat dropped, smacking down hard on the water. The floor vibrated under the blow, shaking her like a leaf in an autumn wind.
The front dipped, held there a moment … and then rose up again. The current turned them in a slow and lazy pirouette, once, twice, until Parker had control of the craft again.
In silence, he took them to the closest dock and helped her off.
There in broad daylight, he bent his head and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth; holding her close and tight.
Her legs were weak and she let him hold her up.
“I am sorry that after all that, we lost the Mirror.” He twined his fingers through her hair.
She looked up. “I hope not.”
“It flew from your hand—”
Shaking her head, she fumbled for her money pouch. “The box flew from my hand.” She lifted up the Mirror, glittering and dazzling in its brilliance. “This didn’t.”
For safekeeping Parker sent Susanna to Bridewell, into the nest of vipers, where they would least likely expect her. Hiding her in plain sight.
There were many things to accomplish, and too many powerful men who meant her harm.
She took her paints, and Gertrude Courtenay met her in the Queen’s outer chambers.
“The princess is here today, so the Queen hopes you can begin to paint her picture.”
Susanna curtsied and waved Parker farewell, but he didn’t leave until he saw her safely escorted into the Queen’s inner rooms.
The Mirror weighed heavily in the inside pocket of his cloak, and he moved toward the King’s chambers with the knife up his sleeve loosened and ready.
Wolsey had left the palace that morning, he had been told, and Parker could only think it was a strategic retreat.
He could prove nothing against Wolsey, and Wolsey knew that.
But the Cardinal could run as far and as fast as he liked. Parker clenched a fist. He would make certain Wolsey paid his account in this.
The guards at the Privy Chamber fell back and opened the door for him, and Parker strode into the room. It was full of courtiers, milling and sniping, but the King was not present.
“He’s in his closet.” Will Somers peered at Parker as if inspecting a strange new creature. Then the Fool put a hand on his arm. “I saw your lady the other night. Is she well?”
“Well enough.” He pulled his arm back, but Somers kept his grip.
“She did not look well at the time, and I would warn you that after she left, the Duke of Norfolk began all manner of whispers about her.”
Parker cut his gaze to the corner where he’d noticed Norfolk earlier, and saw the Duke was watching him. Watching the exchange. “So I heard.”
“Ah? You know?” Somers dropped his hand and smiled, the gleefully evil smile of a gargoyle. “I look forward to your retaliation.”
Parker did not bother with an answer. He dismissed Norfolk with a jerk of his head and made for the closet. Somers’s chuckle followed him.
The guards at the closet looked set to deny him, but at the last moment opened the door. Parker stepped into the room and stood just within, and saw the King sitting with his secretary.
He seemed pleased with the interruption.
“News, Parker?”
“Aye.”
Henry waved the secretary out, and when they were alone, Parker reached into his pocket and drew out the Mirror.
Henry stared at the jewel, then reached out his hand and took it. “I’d forgotten how magnificent it is.”
“It has cost many lives to get it back.” Parker thought of the boatman just an hour ago, of Norfolk’s hapless spies. Of Jens. He rubbed his shoulder. “Too many.”
“Who did this, Parker?” Henry ran a thumb over the facets. “Who?”
“I have no solid proof. And those who could give the proof will not, because it implicates them, too.”
“Then a name without proof. I trust you have it right.”
“You will not like it.” Restless, Parker walked to the fire, and then to the window. He had always been truthful with the King, but this truth could sink him. Henry would not want to hear it.
Henry was quiet.
Parker turned and saw he was watching him, a look in his eye that was hard to decipher.
“I hear many things these days I do not like. I will not kill the messenger.”
Parker braced himself. “Wolsey.”
Whatever the King had expected, this was not it. His mouth gaped, and he stared at Parker with unblinking eyes. He tried to speak; cleared his throat. “Why?” The word came out on a croak.
“He arranged it months ago, when the King of France had an alliance with Rome. The Emperor has promised often to advance Wolsey as pope, and has failed to carry out his promise each time. Wolsey thought to bribe the French with the Mirror of Naples to do it this time.”
“But the alliance is over now.”
“Aye.” Parker kept his eyes on the King, watching for a change in mood. “When the deal went sour, Wolsey tried to stop it. But the man he’d hired to take the jewel had already done so and hidden it, and Wolsey could not find where he’d put it.”
“Wolsey made some accusations against you the other night. How do I know this is not your retaliation against that?”
Parker shrugged. “You do not. The French could confirm it, but they will not. They don’t want the finger pointed at them in this.”
Henry rubbed stiff fingers against his forehead. “He is my right hand.”
“Aye. And I have no real proof. There is nothing to be done. But you asked me, and I told you. Wolsey did this. And the French cleaned up after him, killing all who could stand witness against either of them.” He moved again, too restless to do anything else.
“This does not sit well.” Henry rose, too, and joined Parker at the window. “What is your recommendation?”
“At the very least, wear the jewel soon. Show it is in your possession.”
“Aye. That is good counsel.” Henry lifted it to the light. “There is a spectacle with emissaries from Venice tonight. I will wear it then.” He moved the Mirror this way and that, creating rainbows. “I would go to war with France, but Wolsey insists we have no money. Each day that the Emperor delays in sending word that he will support me in an invasion bodes worse for
a swift attack. Retrieving the Mirror from France’s grasp is at least some show of strength.”
Parker said nothing. The sun shining through the window warmed his face. For a moment he longed for nothing more than his bed, and he closed his eyes.
“You look the worse for wear, Parker. This”—Henry flicked the pearl hanging below the diamond—“has come at a personal cost.”
“Aye.” Parker did not see the point in denying it. “To me and mine.”
“You will not go unrewarded.”
Parker shrugged. He would take what was given to him and he would use it, but he had never pushed for any favor from the King, save one—Susanna Horenbout’s hand. And he had been given it.
Henry laughed. “You inspire me always to surprise you with my generosity, given how lightly you take it, and how little you seem to want it.”
“I do what I do out of loyalty, not out of greed.” Parker saw no leverage in pretending otherwise.
“Aye. And because of that, although it pains me, I believe you about Wolsey. But I have use for him yet, and no good will come of my turning on him with so little evidence. The nobles will squabble with each other and petition me for his offices and his wealth, and in return, they will not give me half as much as he does in terms of work. No matter what Wolsey may have done now, he can work from sunrise until long after sunset on my business, and I will always be in his debt for that.”
Parker knew he spoke true. But if the Cardinal was going to get away with this in the short term, perhaps a more personal visit was in order.
“Any other trouble?” the King asked.
“One favor I will ask of you.” Parker thought of Norfolk, lurking in his corner outside.
“Aye?” Henry waited for him, arms crossed over his chest.
“Do not pay heed to any rumors or whispers from Norfolk about your painter. My betrothed is as loyal as I am.”
“I know it, but what is the story here?” Parker had seen that gleam in Henry’s eyes before. The monarch was insatiably curious.
“Norfolk could have alerted you to the Mirror’s disappearance some weeks ago, but he held back, trying to find a way to ensnare Wolsey and ruin him. The French almost laid hands on the jewel because of it.
“Norfolk threatened my betrothed with the Tower if she retrieved the Mirror before he could find some evidence against Wolsey. It is she you have to thank for the return of this jewel. She worked out where it was hidden.”
Henry’s lips thinned. Parker knew the King did nothing to stop the vicious rivalry in his court, thinking it provided him with a self-sustaining system of checks and balances, but sometimes the bitterness between the power factions was not to his advantage. “So noted. There will be no Tower in your lady’s future.”
“Good.” Parker bowed, and Henry sat again at his desk.
“Call that damnable secretary back as you leave.”
Parker stepped into the Privy Chamber and caught Norfolk’s eye. The Duke was watching the door, a fox hunkered down outside the chicken roost.
Parker sent him a long, slow smile, and watched Norfolk take a step back.
Turnabout was fair play.
38
And here it must be noted that such—like deaths, which are deliberately inflicted with a resolved and desperate courage—cannot be avoided by princes.
—Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 25
Hampton Court Palace was magnificent.
Parker had not been to see the progress of Wolsey’s project for a long time, and he was astonished at the beauty and elegance of the building.
It was a palace for a monarch, not a priest; for a king, not his administrator. Given the relatively cramped conditions of Bridewell, Wolsey had succeeded in upstaging his master in this.
Workmen were still busy around the back. Parker heard the clang of iron on stone, and the calls of men to each other. He wondered what Wolsey thought to do once the place was finished. How could he entertain here, do business here, without showing up his monarch?
It was madness.
He walked around the side of the building, and stepped through a door muddy with the tracks of workmen.
As he moved toward the front of the palace, the rooms became finer and more finished. No expense had been spared, and the detail was remarkable.
Wolsey had turned his considerable talents of organization to creating perfection, and had almost achieved it.
Parker heard the murmur of voices ahead and moved toward the sound, turning a corner to see two servants walking away with trays of used plates.
Large double doors sat closed to his right, and he knew whom he would find behind them. A laugh came, light and feminine, and Parker stepped back as the door opened.
A woman slipped out, her face smoothing to neutral as she closed the door and followed the servants.
Alone at last.
His knife neatly in his grip, Parker eased the door open and stepped inside. The light outside was fading, and the lantern on Wolsey’s desk and the fireplace provided a gentle glow that threw the rest of the room in shadow.
Wolsey stood before the fire, his back to the door, and Parker stood quietly, waiting for Wolsey to sense him.
The moment he did, Wolsey spun, staggering a little as he put himself off balance. “Parker!” He moved to his desk, gripping the edge for support. “Why are you here?”
“You know why. And my stay under the Fleet is only a part of it.”
Parker leaned back against the door.
Wolsey’s gaze flicked to him and away. “You have no proof against me.”
Parker tilted his head. “I don’t need proof. Just as you don’t seem to need a court for the Fleet.”
Wolsey felt behind him, knocking stacks of paper on his desk as he blindly fumbled for something. “The King will not countenance an injury to me.”
“I think the King will not so much as raise an eyebrow.”
Wolsey’s skin was suddenly stark against the dark color of his robes. “You pointed the finger at me?”
“I told the King all I know, and you were most certainly mentioned.” Parker fingered the hilt of his knife. “Having possession of the Mirror when I told the tale added no little weight to my words.”
Wolsey gave up trying to find whatever it was he sought, and lifted a hand to his mouth. “You found the Mirror?”
Parker smiled.
“The King did not believe you, or it would not be you here, but some sheriff to take me to the Tower.” Wolsey spoke slowly, weighing each word and finding them to his liking. He smiled back, his hands shaking with relief.
“The King did not want to believe me. Whether he did or not, I will leave to you to discover.” Parker stepped forward. “In fact, I think your punishment can be wondering when the King will no longer find you useful enough to forget you put your own ambition before his. One day, his temper will fray too far. The day he sees this palace of yours, perhaps?”
Wolsey frowned. “You could be lying. What is to say you even spoke with the King at all?”
“Come to Bridewell tonight.” Parker turned and put his hand on the door. “The King will be wearing the Mirror, and you can see how well he likes you.”
“Perhaps I will.” Wolsey spoke boldly, but Parker could hear the fear beneath.
“If you ever touch or speak with my betrothed again,” Parker said as he opened the door, “if you ever send thugs after me, or attempt any harm to any of my servants or family, I will kill you.”
“You insolent dock rat.” Wolsey drew himself tall. “I have more power than you will ever have.”
“All your power is worth nothing with a knife between your ribs. And if you come near me or mine again, that is exactly what you will have.”
Susanna watched the Venetian emissaries watch the pageant. Or rather, pretend to watch it while their gaze was drawn elsewhere.
To the King.
He was always a striking presence, but tonight, in his dark blue velvet doublet embroider
ed with gold thread and picked out with jewels, he looked magnificent. And from his shoulder hung the Mirror of Naples.
In the glow of a thousand candles, it took her breath away, and she understood why it was at the center of the last few days’ madness.
She noticed someone else looking at the Mirror, with an intensity and focus that spoke of obsession.
As if he felt her gaze, he turned to her, and for a terrible moment she and the Comte stared into each other’s eyes. There was hatred there; a pure, cold fury.
Parker put a hand on her shoulder, and she cast a quick glance up at him. When she turned back to the Comte, he was gone.
“He would like to kill me,” she said. She couldn’t help the shiver that slithered through her.
“I have Harry and Peter Jack asking questions along the river to see if Jean drowned in the Thames this morning or not.” Parker kept looking for the Comte, but from his expression, Susanna guessed the French nobleman had disappeared.
“The Comte will kill me himself if he can. He would not go running to Jean.”
Parker lifted the back of his hand to her cheek and stroked it. “You are becoming too like me, my lady. There are those all about you who wish you harm.”
Susanna laughed, a weary sound. It had been a long day. “Can we take our leave?”
Parker gave a nod, and took her with him to say his farewells to the King.
Norfolk was standing with Henry, and Susanna went cold, the conversation she had had with Norfolk in his house clear in her mind. The Duke was out to ruin her.
“Your Majesty, it has been a busy day. We will depart.” Parker bowed low to the King and dipped his head in Norfolk’s direction.
“I have been busy since our meeting earlier, Parker. You will find you are no longer my Yeoman of the Crossbows.” Henry paused and looked sidelong at Norfolk.
Susanna squeezed Parker’s hand, but he did not look shocked or even concerned.
“You are now my Yeoman of the King’s Robes.”
Norfolk hissed, the sound as loud and enraged as a boiling kettle. “That is an elevation indeed.”
Keeper of the King’s Secrets Page 18
