In Defense of the Queen (27 page)

Parker narrowed his eyes. “Do you think that’s the end of it? That I will let you go now? You tried to kill the King’s son.”

Jules’s stolen horse moved restlessly beneath him, and he lifted the crossbow again. “No. I suppose you will want to take me.”

The Frenchman readied himself to make a move, and Parker lifted the sword he had held ever since the chase began. It seemed to weigh more than it should.

Jules gave a cry and forced his horse into a canter, charging Parker down like they were taking a turn at the lists.

There would just be enough room for the two to come abreast, but Parker tried to block the way by angling his mount to the middle of the alley.

He braced himself for the impact, knowing as his arm came up and across he was only going to strike with the flat. If he could knock the Frenchman down, he could take him prisoner. Let the Tower deal with him.

He wanted no more blood on his hands in this matter.

As he swung the blade, he realized Jules was no longer sitting in the saddle, that in the short run from the end of the alley he had slipped his feet from the stirrups and was balancing in a crouch on the horse’s back. A moment before his horse ran into Parker’s, he jumped, throwing his crossbow at Parker’s face as he cleared his horse’s head in a headlong dive.

The horses clashed, flicking their heads back, screaming in agitation, their hooves a thunder on the cobbles.

Parker held on to his saddle, twisting to look behind him.

Jules had landed badly, tumbling to a halt and then rising awkwardly, holding his leg with one hand, the other covering the place where Parker had stabbed him. He turned the corner at a limping run, and was gone.

Parker called softly to the horses, soothing them, stroking his mount’s neck to calm it. His cheek stung where Jules’s bow had clipped him.

And somehow, he could no longer find the energy to care that the Frenchman had managed to escape.

He turned his horse around, and headed straight for the Tower.

Chapter Thirty-five

it is the fear of want that makes any of the whole race of animals either greedy or ravenous; but, besides fear, there is in man a pride that makes him fancy it a particular glory to excel others in pomp and excess;

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

“M
istress.” The call from within the Tower grounds swung every head in that direction.

It was Eric. He was running towards them, where they stood by the Gate, but he slowed and then came to an uncertain halt just below the portcullis at the sight of the guards blocking their way.

His appearance created a subtle shift in the tension. Eric being Eric, he had befriended most of the guards.

“Who is that beneath your cloak then?” Lewis asked, stepping back from Harry in the sudden silence. “I thought it were him.” He jerked his head towards Eric.

Susanna was loath to give him any information, but they needed the safety of the Tower. The King’s ring lay heavy and loose on her middle finger, turned inwards until—if—she had need of it. “It is the King’s son, Henry Fitzroy.”

Lewis cocked his head. “What do you take me for, mistress? The King doesn’t trust traitors with his only son.”

She closed her eyes, sat taller in the saddle. “Fetch the Constable, if you please. I’ll speak to him, and no other.” Susanna tried to force down her agitation, but her voice trembled as she spoke. If they were turned away, or if she were taken within, and Harry and Fitzroy left outside—it was unthinkable.

“They would deny us the safety of my father’s Tower?” Fitzroy looked at her in astonishment.

“It seems they are considering it.” Harry stood back and looked down the causeway. “If we’re forced away, who knows who will be waiting for us?”

The matter-of-fact talk between them made the guards more uncomfortable still. One of them called to a man amongst the small crowd of guards gathered to watch the spectacle, standing near Eric, just within the portcullis.

After a brief word, the man turned and disappeared into the darkness. Susanna was glad it was not Lewis who had sent him. Less chance of the Cardinal being summoned, if he were still within.

Eric caught her eye and then turned as well, and disappeared after him.

The guards in the tight crowd muttered amongst themselves, and Susanna had the sense one, at least, was watching her. She looked up, and her heart stumbled in her chest.

Jean looked back at her from amongst the men, his face unreadable.

Had he been trapped within all day? The way he eyed the road beyond told her he had, and he was thinking of a way to use this as a means to escape.

She had wanted to warn Kilburne of the danger of his being here, but she had not, for her own sake, and for Parker’s and everyone who depended on him. But by doing so, she may have risked Fitzroy’s life.

Desperate, needing to think, she nudged the horse around, so it faced back the way they had come, as if she were staring into the growing darkness beyond, looking for signs of danger.

It put her back to Jean, put her body between Fitzroy and any weapon Jean may have to hand.

The movement startled the guards, and one lunged for the reins. Kilburne’s mount flinched, nervous, hungry and ready for its stables.

A few of the guards stepped forward to assist.

“I see someone out there.”

She was not sure if it were Jean who called out, but three men ran down the road a little way. Atop the dancing, panicked horse, Susanna saw one of them turn to look back, caught the flash of a smile from under a helmet.

They disappeared into the dark with the sound of running feet.

Now all Susanna wanted was to turn the horse round again, get herself between Fitzroy and Jean, standing somewhere in the darkness, with an easy escape.

Better yet, she would like the thick, pale walls of the Tower between them.

She could only hope Jean did not want the fuss that would come with a royal assassination. That he was content to take one of the largest diamonds in the world and run.

* * *

Three guards approached him, weapons out, as he came through the Bulwark gate, and Parker threw back his robe to show his chain of office.

They stopped, and touched their hats, and then one of the guards continued past him.

“I’ll check Petty Wales,” he called.

The way he pronounced it, as it most likely was originally pronounced—Petit Wales—made Parker whip his head around to follow the man’s progress out the Bulwark gate.

Jean.

The assassin didn’t turn around and the night swallowed him from sight.

Parker knew, even if he raced to follow the Frenchman, he would be nowhere to be found. He had most likely been looking for a chance to escape the Tower all day, and he would not waste it.

He urged his mount forward, trailing Jules’s mare behind him. He’d been unwilling to abandon the horse in the alleyway.

Ahead, he saw a tight knot of people at the Middle Tower gate. Guards on one side, and could that be-

“Susanna!” He urged the horse faster.

“Parker.” She fought Kilburne’s horse around to face him, and her smile, her delight at the sight of him, made it difficult for him to breathe. Fitzroy sat before her, his face pale against the dark wool of her cloak.

When he reached her, even though her horse danced and shied, he hooked an arm around her and for a sweet moment felt the soft press of her body as she leaned against him, felt the warmth and life of her.

With an angry snort, Kilburne’s horse wrenched them apart.

He caught a glimpse of Harry, standing to the side. Something in the way he stood, the set of his face, chilled Parker.

Their trip had not been easy.

“What is this? What is the delay?” Parker frowned down at the guards.

“They will not let us in.” Fitzroy spoke, his words clear and accusing.

“It is near curfew. And the Constable has instructed me to tell you that your woman is no longer to be confined here, by order of the King.” The guard’s words oozed spite.

Susanna gasped, staring at the guard who had spoken. “You could have told me at the start, Lewis. You accused me of being a traitor, even though you knew already the King had dismissed the charges.” She turned Kilburne’s mount around again. “Let us be off. We will find no welcome or safety here.”

Parker caught a glimpse of someone running across the drawbridge to them, and Eric darted into the light thrown by the torches.

He stopped when he saw Parker, and smiled almost as widely as Susanna had when she’d seen him. “Sir.” The word left him like a relieved sigh.

“Did they fetch the Constable?” Harry asked.

Eric shook his head. “He is dining with the Cardinal, and would not be disturbed.”

“Wolsey is here?” Parker thought the Cardinal would be long gone. But his presence changed things. He would not stay in the Tower with Wolsey lurking. The Cardinal had too much power here.

“We’re off?” Susanna asked, her face tense with the effort of holding back Kilburne’s horse.

Parker gave a nod. “You and Eric take the extra horse,” he said to Harry, jerking his head back at Jules’s mount.

“Where will we go?” Fitzroy watched him with wide eyes, but Parker did not answer.

He would not give any hint of their direction to the guards standing around them. It was not a question of whether one of them may be in Wolsey’s pay, only how many.

While he waited for Harry to swing up into the saddle and haul Eric up before him, he took Fitzroy from Susanna, leaning across to lift the boy up and tuck him under his cloak.

“Let’s go.” He wheeled about, and took the causeway at a canter, wanting them to have a good speed by the time they exited by the Bulwark gate, in case Jean or Jules or some other threat waited for them there.

Behind them, he could hear the pounding of feet, the shout of voices, and he turned to look. Saw Wolsey and the Constable standing by the Middle Tower, fighting for breath, staring after them as they took the King’s only son into the darkness.

Chapter Thirty-six

The hardest point of all is, what to do with England; a treaty of peace is to be set on foot, and, if their alliance is not to be depended on, yet it is to be made as firm as possible, and they are to be called friends, but suspected as enemies

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

P
arker held his arms out to Susanna, catching her as she dismounted. She slid down his chest, breathing in his scent of horse and leather, and came to rest in his arms. She did not want to move.

They stood in the courtyard at Bridewell Palace, though, and she moved back at last.

Harry and Eric had dismounted as well, and were grabbing the horses by their bridles and leading them to the stables.

Fitzroy stood, uncertain and lost in the massive space. “Where do we go now, sir?”

“Within. I need guards around us, until I can find your father.” Parker stepped close to him, and knelt on one knee. “We will make sure you are safe, my lord.”

The courtyard was almost completely empty at this late hour, but somewhere outside the palace walls Susanna could hear the thunder of hooves. Not just one or two horses, but a cavalcade.

Parker rose, sword drawn, and Harry and Eric came running out of the stables, followed by some of the stablehands.

She braced as the noise became a roar of iron-clad hooves on cobbles, and what looked like the King’s hunt came bursting into the yard.

The King was in the lead, his face set white, his eyes dark pools of fear and fatigue.

“Your Majesty.” Parker bowed in relief, and Susanna saw he had blocked Fitzroy completely with his body. The boy stood behind him, unnoticed.

“Parker. I went from my hunt to Greenwich for the night, and Master Croke was there. He told me—” Henry swallowed convulsively. “I have sent a guard to the Tower. Croke told me you were taking Fitzroy there.”

“They wouldn’t let us in there, Father.” Fitzroy stepped from behind Parker. “But I am safe.”

“Wouldn’t let you in?” Henry leapt from his horse and scooped the boy in his arms. “You are well?”

“Aye. Master Parker and his lady and pages risked their lives for me today. Many times over.”

Henry looked over the boy’s head, and caught Susanna’s eye. She hastily lowered her gaze.

“I would like to hear the story.” He swung Fitzroy up in his arms and moved towards the doors. “Parker, bring your lady and your pages. I would know who threatens my son.”

Parker sheathed his sword again, and held his arm to Susanna and she took it, glancing back to make sure Harry and Eric followed.

The rest of the King’s party began to dismount, and the courtyard echoed with noise behind them. It was a relief to step into the quiet hall of the palace.

“My chambers, just us.” Henry led the way, his servants scurrying ahead to light the sconces and open doors.