In Defense of the Queen

by Michelle Diener

  “Once. Briefly.” She stopped. Unwilling to speak about this with him.

  “It is a pity then I could not gut-shoot him and leave him to bleed out.” He did not change his inflection. “Make too much noise, though.”

  “This may mean the Cardinal is in the Tower, and looking for me. If he gets me . . .” She tried to look one last time out the window, but Jean blocked it completely. She shuddered. “I can’t stay. Not just for Fitzroy, but for myself as well. If Parker is not back and Wolsey is here looking for me, there is nothing to stop him taking me to the dungeons.”

  Jean pursed his lips. “I would hate the Cardinal to get his way in anything. I have developed quite a dislike for him.” He tapped a hand on the stock of his crossbow. “Bien. This man was to take you to the White Tower to the Cardinal? Perhaps that is what we will do.”

  Susanna pushed herself hard against the wall, as if she could burrow into its safety. “You want me to go with you, into the White Tower?”

  “It is a solution. We go together, to get the jewel and to leave the Tower. We help each other.”

  “But then I will be implicated in the jewel’s disappearance. It will change nothing for me.”

  “Where the jewel is kept, will it be noticed missing right away?”

  She thought about it. Shook her head.

  “Then a guard bringing in a prisoner, taking them away again, this happens nearly every day, I would think. What blame could be laid at your door?”

  It may be the only way she could escape. She pushed away from the wall. “Let’s go, then.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  For if you consider the use of clothes, why should a fine thread be thought better than a coarse one? And yet these men, as if they had some real advantages beyond others, and did not owe them wholly to their mistakes, look big, seem to fancy themselves to be more valuable, and imagine that a respect is due to them for the sake of a rich garment, to which they would not have pretended if they had been more meanly clothed, and even resent it as an affront if that respect is not paid them.

  Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

  Jean was not hiding above and Parker wanted to howl at the time he’d wasted.

  They arrived back at the main entrance and Kilburne silently indicated left, to the dark corridor leading to the adjoining house.

  Parker nodded and raised his knife, moved quietly down the narrow passage.

  The door swung open under his hand.

  Kilburne was behind him, and he realized he did not want the captain there. Did not want anyone to witness what he might find, until he had some grip on himself.

  But before he could turn and suggest Kilburne try to the right of the hall, to his own rooms, he smelled the sharp, iron scent of blood, and he could not speak.

  He moved forward, turned the corner, and saw Merden lying face up. He was missing an eye. A bolt was embedded in the wooden panel wall behind him. It had gone right through the guard, and Parker did not want to look too closely at what was leaking out the back of his head.

  “God above.” Kilburne reared back mid-stride, and nearly unbalanced. He stared at Merden in horror.

  “What was Merden doing here?”

  “Looking for Susanna, perhaps?” Parker edged around the body, and stepped into the room he had been in when he was shot. “Perhaps he was doing a little private searching for the Cardinal?”

  Kilburne was too shocked to answer. He did not move, staring at Merden’s face.

  “If they were in here, they left.” Parker knew the order in the room, the lack of a sign of a struggle, did not mean anything, but hope sent a tiny green shoot through the dark overgrowth of fear within him.

  Kilburne was still looking down at Merden’s body. “You say he is a French assassin. What business has he here?”

  “He’s after Susanna. And he still has her.” Parker spoke sharply, trying to jolt Kilburne out of his shock. “Unless he’s left her body somewhere hard to find, she is still with him, at his mercy.”

  Kilburne grabbed his hair with both hands and tugged. “I do not know what to make of this, Parker. What is he about?”

  “Nothing good.” Parker stepped over Merden’s body. Realized Susanna would have had to do the same. He fingered her dagger, which Harry had handed him, and thought what she would try to do. Thought what Jean would want.

  And then it came to him. He tried to keep his body loose, relaxed, so Kilburne would not notice a change in him. But he would have to get rid of the captain to make sure of things.

  If Susanna had told Jean where to find the Mirror of Naples in exchange for her life, he thought the exchange more than fair. But to everyone else, it would be treason.

  * * *

  It seemed the White Tower, with its single entrance up an outer wooden staircase to the first floor, was a simple matter to get into.

  Susanna hoped it would be just as simple to leave. Carrying one of the largest diamonds in the world.

  “She’s wanted upstairs.” Jean spoke without a trace of an accent for a change. When he spoke to her, he seemed to relish accentuating his words, as if reminding her they were both foreigners here. But now, he could have been anyone.

  The guard at the table frowned at him, as if trying to place him, but Jean moved past, as if he had announced his intentions as a courtesy, rather than a requirement.

  Susanna recognized the watchman from the day she had been taken from the Queen’s Chambers, and the sight of her seemed to be all he required.

  “The Cardinal is in the Chapel vestry,” he called after them, and Susanna felt Jean freeze at the same moment she did.

  It took him less than a second to recover, though. “Move.” He pushed her between the shoulder-blades. “Please, do not tell me that is where the Mirror is.” His breath was hot in her ear.

  She shook her head. “It is in the State Apartments, which are on the floor above.”

  Jean was silent.

  They had reached the top of the stairs, and heard the murmur of conversation behind a small door to the left. The chapel ran the whole length of the floor, with wide double doors in the center.

  Susanna pointed to the next set of stairs, and Jean kept his grip on her as he moved toward them.

  Then, from above, they heard the scrape of a shoe, and someone coughed, raw and wet.

  They froze.

  Jean relaxed suddenly behind her. And she thought of the way he’d looked when he’d shot Merden.

  “I can’t go up there. Then I truly will be implicated. And you can’t kill the guard without alerting everyone to the fact the Mirror is gone.” She spoke so quietly, Jean had to bend even closer to her.

  His hand tightened on her arm, squeezing it hard enough she had to force herself not to cry out. Then he let go, and she rubbed where he had bruised her, angling her body away from his.

  He walked toward the doors to the chapel and tried the handles. One opened soundlessly.

  Jean motioned to her and together they stepped into the silent room. She could hear Wolsey talking to someone in the vestry, the sound muffled but very close.

  Jean pointed to one of the pews, set in shadow against the wall. “Stay here. I’ll get rid of the guard.”

  “Don’t kill him.” Despite her fear of him, she clutched at his arm. She did not want another life taken, especially in this devil’s bargain she’d made.

  He gave her a strange look and shook her off as a bear would a troublesome dog. “You’re right, his death will bring too much attention to the King’s Chambers. It wouldn’t make sense to kill him.”

  She nodded, tight and short, and stepped away, making sure she did not brush against him.

  He swung the door shut, closed it without a sound and left her in the gloomy, jewel-lit light of the stained glass, the image of his face still clear in her mind.

  Deadly, focused.

  Those words could be used to describe Parker as well, but Jean had lost one thing Parker still had in abundan
ce. His humanity.

  The cough came again, and it sounded as if it were in the chapel itself. Susanna tensed, and realized at last the chapel’s high ceilings extended up into the third floor.

  She moved away from the door, and looked up, saw a gallery ran along the top, with a door leading out to the landing above and the State Apartments. The King could attend church merely by walking from his rooms to the gallery, and look down on the service from above.

  The sound of another small movement, the rustle of clothing, filtered down to her, and she guessed one of the gallery doors had not been properly shut.

  She heard Jean call softly from halfway up the stairs, and then heard his footsteps as he climbed all the way to the top floor.

  “Yes?” The guard spoke loudly, and Jean shushed him. Every sound carried down to her, clear as if she were beside them.

  “The Cardinal is working in the vestry below.” Jean’s voice was now so low, she had to strain to hear it. “He is irritated by your cough. He says it’s disturbing him.”

  Susanna heard Jean’s low laugh, and wondered if the guard had made a rude gesture in the Cardinal’s direction.

  “I know, my friend. I know.”

  His voice was so warm, so sympathetic, Susanna shivered. He would have killed this man if it hadn’t been inconvenient.

  “Think of it this way, you have some time off. I’m to replace you. Is it just the King’s Chambers you watch up here?”

  The guard gave a snorting laugh of his own. “Aye, I suppose time off won’t go amiss. The King and Queen’s Chambers and a few of his courtiers’ rooms. That is all you need to watch.”

  “Good.” He waited while the guard hacked another cough.

  On her floor, Susanna heard the door to the Cardinal’s Chambers swung open.

  “Will you be quiet with that infernal racket.”

  Susanna heard the door slam again, and wondered if it were one of Wolsey’s thugs or his secretary. Whoever it was, they had played directly into Jean’s hands.

  “That’s your signal to be off, my friend.”

  “S’pose so.” The guard moved down the stairs, unhurried, coughing all the while. Far more than he had been doing earlier.

  Susanna smiled.

  The handle of the door rattled, and shock at how fast, how silently Jean had returned froze her for a moment. She stepped back in place just in time.

  “Where is the Mirror?” Jean’s face loomed at her, backlit by the weak light of the landing, and she wondered how she could create that effect in a painting. A devil leering through a door, with the fires of hell in the background.

  “The Mirror.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her, and she blinked.

  This would be the hardest part. “In the King’s Chamber in a small box.” She showed him the size in the small space between their bodies, hoping he would release her and step back. “It’s probably inside a chest.”

  “Which will no doubt be locked.”

  Susanna lifted her hands. “Did you think it would be easy?”

  He pushed her away from him, and she stumbled backward. She put out a hand to steady herself, and it connected with a small table beside the door.

  Jean leapt forward and caught it before it clattered to the floor. He placed it down with deliberate movements and then spun for the door. Let himself out without a word.

  Susanna stared at the closed door, waiting for her pulse to calm.

  At last she sat on a bench, still in shadow, and looked up at the light streaming in through the high stained glass windows, the floral rainbow pattern soothing her.

  If he hadn’t been afraid she’d cry out, Jean would have hit her because of the table.

  She knew it.

  His behaviour was mercurial. One moment, entranced by her, the next, furious that she would not obey him to the letter. That she would not cower.

  She thought of Fitzroy, being stalked by a killer, and wondered if she dare trust Jean to get her out of the Tower. The way his eyes had flared before he left—she hunched her shoulders and stood slowly.

  Could it be he was done with her? He could take the Mirror and keep walking. Leave her to the wolves.

  Leaving her only a wall away from the Cardinal Wolsey. Even the weight of the King’s ring did not soothe her at that thought.

  Her hands were shaking and she lifted them up in the half-dark, willed them to still. When they were steady enough for her liking, she focused on listening. Wolsey was quiet now, but she could hear the occasional thump of a drawer, and was certain he was still busy within his vestry.

  Above her, in the gallery, she thought she heard the faintest creak of wood. As if someone were adjusting their position.

  Jean?

  She had given him what he needed, and she would only slow him down now, and could still turn on him.

  Perhaps he’d decided he was better off with her dead.

  The darkness above seemed to loom over her, now. She imagined shadows in its depths, with crossbows raised.

  With a sudden sense of urgency, she made for the door, opened it and walked out to the stairs. She looked up, but there was no sign of Jean on the landing.

  She hesitated. Wondered if the guard below would fetch Kilburne if she asked them too, or if they would call up to Wolsey.

  And then she remembered. Kilburne was set to take her to Fitzroy’s this afternoon. She was supposed to be painting him.

  Her hand gripped the banister. She had completely forgotten. There could be no simpler way to have access to the little boy.

  She hoped Wolsey had not convinced Kilburne he had a right to question her, or that the King’s wish for her to paint Fitzroy counted as more important than Wolsey’s questions.

  Above her, she heard the creak of boards, and she moved as quietly as she could down the stairs toward the guards.

  She would take her chances with Kilburne.

  She had had the tiger by the tail and had let it go. It was time to put a safe distance between herself and the assassin.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  And yet it is wonderful to see how this false notion of pleasure bewitches many who delight themselves with the fancy of their nobility, and are pleased with this conceit—that they are descended from ancestors who have been held for some successions rich, and who have had great possessions; for this is all that makes nobility at present.

  Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

  Kilburne had been easy to get rid of. He was so shocked by Merden’s death, it had been a simple matter for Parker to steer him to his chambers to collect himself before he called his men to move Merden’s body.

  Parker hoped he would be sufficiently occupied for some time. He reached the top of the wooden stairs and opened the door into the White Tower. The gloom of the inside enveloped him, and he stood still a moment to get used to it.

  A guard at a table stood, and saluted him. “The Cardinal is up on the second floor, working in the vestry.”

  Parker nodded his thanks. Walked past and up the central staircase. He wondered where Kingston was in all this. But the Constable of the Tower would not be concerned with so lowly a prisoner as Susanna, not with an efficient captain like Kilburne to rely upon.

  He moved softly up the stairs, not sure if Wolsey would have his men standing outside or in the vestry with him.

  There was a soft scuffle of feet just ahead, as if someone had heard him, and stopped dead.

  He lunged forward, leaping up the steps, and slammed into—

  “Parker.” Susanna went limp against him, and he could feel her whole body shaking. “I thought . . .”

  Parker tightened his hold on her, his mind not quite sure of the evidence in his arms.

  “You are all right.” He wanted to laugh it out loud, but forced himself to whisper in her ear.

  “Jean is above, looking for the Mirror in the State apartments.”

  If he didn’t have to choose between killing Jean and getting Susanna out of the
White Tower safely, he would have taken the stairs without a second thought, knife in hand.

  “We need to get you to Kilburne. I have the writ from the King. Wolsey can do nothing to you, and tonight, if he still has no proof against you, he has to let you go.”

  “I need to get to Durham House, not back to Kilburne.” She looked wild, her hair half-fallen from its neat twist, her eyes wide. “We have to get to Fitzroy.”

  He frowned. “The King will understand your delay on the portrait, and it will be one more mark against Wolsey for causing it.”

  “No, not to paint him.” She raised her eyes upward, to the State Apartments. “Jean told me a nobleman has contracted an assassin to kill Fitzroy. I have the letter he was given as proof.”

  Parker choked. “An assassin?”

  “Yes, someone offered the job to Jean but he turned it down. But he swears someone else would have taken it. And it must be done before the seventh day in June.”

  Parker heard the door open above, and the murmur of voices. Kingston and Wolsey. So that is where the Constable was.

  He gripped Susanna’s hand and climbed the stairs to the landing, felt her resist a moment, and then place her trust in him.

  It would be best to get this confrontation with Wolsey over with, and he could ask for no better witness than the Constable of the Tower.

  “Parker.” Kingston gaped at him as they stepped into view. Wolsey stood behind him, his eyes hooded. “There seems to be some confusion about a certain prisoner . . .” Kingston tailed off as he noticed Susanna.

  “There is no confusion, sir.” Parker pulled the hard-won writ from his pouch, and presented it. “The truth of the matter is, the Cardinal acted unwisely, and from false information. He made an arrest before ascertaining any facts, and when the King demanded he produce proof or release Mistress Horenbout tonight, he decided to extract a false confession from her with torture, rather than lose face. I appraised the King of this, and he has made his opinion on the matter clear.”