In Defense of the Queen (19 page)

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.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Thus, upon an inquiry into the whole matter, they reckon that all our actions, and even all our virtues, terminate in pleasure, as in our chief end and greatest happiness; and they call every motion or state, either of body or mind, in which Nature teaches us to delight, a pleasure.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

T
he shouts and cries of the guard rang out just the other side of the double doors to the Lieutenant’s Lodgings. Jean did not seem panicked. He guided her right with a cool, steady hand on her shoulder, along a short passage. At the end was a low door, and he stretched past her to open it.

Beyond lay another passageway, although this was clearly in a different house, older, more run down. It lay parallel to the river, clinging to the inner-curtain wall.

He opened a door to the left, to a room with a window out onto Tower Green, and crowded behind her, forcing her in.

The sure way he’d done it, the lack of caution as he entered, made her certain he’d been using the room to watch for her. He knew it would be empty.

“Now, down to business.” His hands grabbed her shoulders from behind, and pulled her back against him. Before she could hammer an elbow into his stomach, he looped his arms around her at her waist, tightening his grip so her arms were pinned to her sides.

She struggled against him, and he laughed, breathless enough to make her skin crawl, and placed his lips where her neck met her shoulder.

She forced herself still and stiff, when every muscle screamed to wrench and fight free.

He sighed. “You will escape from me the first moment my back is turned if I take you to France by force.” He said it as a statement.

“You know I will.”

“Such a pity.” He let her go as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, and she stumbled forward to the window, hands out to catch herself.

“Not by the window.” The way he spoke, every word a threat, forced her to turn back to him, and she saw his crossbow was raised. She moved into the corner of the room, to the left of the window, her hands half-raised.

“What is it about the Mirror of Naples, that you will risk your life for it, again and again?”

Jean lowered the bow slightly. “It has been my only official failure.”

“Even if I knew where it was, if you took it, it would mean war between England and France.”

Jean shrugged. “They are almost at war anyway.”

That was true. Susanna bit her lip. She had nearly given Jean the Mirror of Naples once before, in exchange for Parker’s life, and her loyalty to Henry had been shaken these last few days.

Henry had no right to it, anyway. It was part of the French Crown Jewels.

“You know where it is, don’t you?” Jean narrowed his eyes, and took careful aim. “Your lover has taken it somewhere special, kept it even safer since I tried to steal it last time. And he does not hide anything from you.”

Her blood started to beat in her ears, a heavy, erratic thump, as she looked straight at the bolt. It was overkill this close. The bolt would go straight through her and bury itself in the wall behind her.

She had a moment of clarity. It would be this way until Jean got the Mirror or he was dead. There was no room in his mind for failure.

And he thought she would go with him, when right at this moment he was threatening to kill her . . . She shook her head.

In the past he’d hit her, choked her, held a knife her throat. That he imagined she would put herself under his power voluntarily . . .

An icy feeling of fear ran down from the base of her skull, and with sharp, pricking fingers, raised the hair on her arms, on the back of her neck.

He was mad, or so unable to see his actions for what they were, it was almost the same thing.

“You are right. I do know where it is.” She leaned against the wall, willing her shoulders to relax, and her legs to hold her up. “But there is no guarantee you will let me go if I tell you. Why should I trust you?”

He looked thoughtful. “Nothing I say in answer to that will make any difference. I could still kill you anyway. I hold all the cards.”

Susanna lifted a brow. “No. I hold at least one.”

“All right. A swap, then. Information for information.”

“You have some information you think I would be interested in?” She shot him a look of challenge.

He smiled. “Yes. Something that will clear your way with your King. Make you a hero instead of a prisoner. That would be worth something, no?”

It would be worth the Mirror of Naples. If he spoke the truth.

“I see that
would
be of interest.” He cocked his head to one side. “My word of honor, I will give you the information and let you go, in exchange for the location of the Mirror.” He waited a beat and in the brief silence, they heard the gates opening again, the creak as the drawbridge was lowered. “We are agreed?”

“It would have to be a very, very useful piece of information for a jewel that is worth a King’s ransom.” She watched his face, but he had no expression, he had spent years burying his emotions, and she would have no way of knowing if he were lying or not.

“This is one of the reasons I wish you to come with me.” Jean took two long strides and reached over to touch her cheek with a finger, his face cold and hard. “You are clever,
madame
. You are brave and you are resourceful. And beautiful, also, but that is not the main attraction.” He smiled, suddenly, a quick, fox-sly quirk of the lips. “And I will admit, that you are Parker’s, and that you defeated me last time, would make it a victory over him, and over you all at once, which would add not a little sweetness to it, as well.”

The breath she drew in shuddered through her, and she jerked back from his touch. “You understand, I will not go with you.”

A shout came from across the green, by the main gate, and Jean moved back from the window, his whole body alert and ready.

“Time is wasting, and I do truly want that jewel.” His crossbow was aimed at the window now, his eyes never leaving the movement of men beyond the panes.

She wanted so much to push him aside and see who was out there-see if Parker had somehow made it back from the King-it took all her willpower to stop herself.

“If it helps to make up your mind, the jewel will disappear completely. It will not be flaunted on Francis’s robes as a reminder to your King that he was bested. I intend to go into retirement with it.”

“You are not stealing it for King Francis?” She blinked.

“I am not. Despite almost dying to get it last time, my efforts were not appreciated, and I find I am tired of this life.” He lifted a hand off the bow and waved it. “The diamond can be cut down into a few smaller stones, the pearl sold separately. I would think it will last me far into old age.” While he spoke, his gaze never left the window. He vibrated with an eagerness to shoot.

She felt a little lurch in her chest. Who would have that effect on Jean but Parker? Could it be?

“If that is so, then you will have to astound me with the information you have.” Susanna set her mouth in a grim line. “Or I say nothing.”

“I could make you tell me.” There was an edge of anticipation in his tone, and at last he turned to look at her.

She held his gaze. “Not easily, and not quietly.”

He nodded. “You are right. But you have promised me the jewel before, and reneged on it.”

“Last time, I could have been accused of treason if I’d given it to you.” She crossed her arms. “Give me something of worth, and I will tell you where to find it. It still won’t be easy to take, but this time, I won’t be implicated in its disappearance.”

He nodded again, slowly. “So be it. I have heard something I think your King would be most interested to learn. Something that might earn you a free walk out of this Tower, he will be so grateful.”

Susanna waited as he gazed out onto the Green. “I heard a certain nobleman was looking for an assassin for a special job, and naturally, I take an interest in these things. The word is, the target is a little boy. The bastard son of the King.”

Susanna froze. “Henry Fitzroy? The child is only six years old.”

“And one day he will be twenty-six, and a contender for the throne, no?” Jean spoke without a trace of emotion.

“Do you have proof of this?”

“A letter, passed to me by someone who thought I would be interested, if the money was right. I will give it to you if I’m satisfied you’ve told me the truth about the Mirror.”

“Which nobleman?”

Jean laughed softly. “None would be so stupid as to put their name to parchment in something such as this. Someone powerful, I would think, someone who might have a chance at the throne himself, if there was no son to take over.”

Susanna tipped her head back against the wall as she took in the full implications. Norfolk? Would he be mad enough? “When is this assassination planned?”

Jean slipped a hand into his pouch, and lifted a letter out a little way. “The location of the jewel, first.”

“I do not trust you. Tell me when, and I swear I will honor my word.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I do not trust you so easily again.”

She worried her lip with her teeth. Tried to think of a compromise. “I will tell you the building it is in, but not the exact location. If you tell me when the assassination will happen, I will give you all the information you need.”

He lowered his crossbow a little more, waited for her.

“You are looking at it.” She spoke quietly, and at last had an excuse to move to the window. She pointed to the White Tower.

He swore, pressing up against the window. “In that damnable fortress?”

“Nice and safe,” she murmured. She searched the green as fast as she could, but there was no sign of Parker. If he had been there, he was gone, now. “When did the mysterious nobleman want the killing done?”

He grimaced, but pulled the letter out completely. “The boy will be presented before the court in a way that shows him to be the King’s heir. It must be done before then. Before the seventh day in June, I was told.”

Only a few days away. Henry Fitzroy could be assassinated at any time. She took the letter from him and unfolded it. Read the cryptic offer of money for the death of the little prince. “Did someone take the job?”

Jean laughed. “When that kind of money is on the table, you can believe someone took the job.”

“But not you?”

“Would I tell you of it, hand over this letter, if I had taken it?”

“Perhaps.” She kept her eyes on his face. “You would do it just to make it more of a challenge.”

“Ah.” He reached for her again, but stopped just short, pulled back. “You do understand me so well. Perhaps it is your artist’s eye. But no, in this case, that job would interfere with finding the Mirror. I turned it down.”

“If what you tell me is true, I have one more condition before I tell you where the Mirror is.” Her chest was tight, her hands clenched, that she was even going to ask him this.

“And what is that?” He slanted her a look, hard, sharp, barely containing his anger.

“I need to get to Henry Fitzroy.” She turned her eyes to the White Tower. “You must help me escape.”

Chapter Twenty-six

There are many things that in themselves have nothing that is truly delightful; on the contrary, they have a good deal of bitterness in them; and yet, from our perverse appetites after forbidden objects, are not only ranked among the pleasures, but are made even the greatest designs, of life.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

P
arker had never realized before now what a rabbit’s warren the Tower complex was. There were too many towers. Too many houses and rooms and cells.

“There is no way you will find her unless you get very lucky.” Kilburne was breathless from chasing after him. “And he’s dressed like one of my men. He won’t stand out.”