In Defense of the Queen (8 page)

Parker appeared beside Kilburne. When Susanna saw his face, her heart twisted in her chest. His eyes had gone blank, the chill look of a predator before the kill, calculating every eventuality before it leapt. “I will hold you to account, too, Kilburne.”

She made a sound, a choked cry, and suddenly she was drawn deep into his arms, held fast.

He kissed the top of her head, and then turned to Kilburne. Whispered words only she and Kilburne could hear. “And unlike the Queen, I know where you live.”

Chapter Twelve

If a king should fall under such contempt or envy that he could not keep his subjects in their duty but by oppression and ill usage, and by rendering them poor and miserable, it were certainly better for him to quit his kingdom than to retain it by such methods as make him, while he keeps the name of authority, lose the majesty due to it.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

T
hey would not let him through the entrance. As Susanna stepped into the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, Kilburne held out a hand to stop him, and Parker reined in an urge to smash his fist into Kilburne’s face.

There was a scuffle within, Parker could hear it—Susanna trying to turn back to say goodbye, and being denied.

He bunched his hands into fists, and heard a roaring in his ears.

Kilburne braced himself, widening his stance. And it was his quiet acceptance of the blow that stilled Parker’s hand.

“You think you deserve it, don’t you?” His voice was rough, even to his own ears.

Kilburne gave a single, curt nod. “I was a fool, gathering a full company, clattering down the halls to the Queen’s Chamber. S’blood. What did I think I was about?”

“What
did
you think you were about?” Wolsey must have made some promises to light such a fire under Kilburne’s backside.

“Wolsey claimed the King would be grateful—”

Parker gave a snorting half-laugh at that, and Kilburne winced. “The King told Wolsey to do nothing until he’d thought on the matter, and as far as I’m aware, he’s still thinking.”

Kilburne lifted a shaking hand to his face, rubbed it. “What is this about, Parker?”

“Too deep a game, Kilburne. Better you don’t know.”

“Aye. I think I would prefer to be dumb in this tangle.” He stepped over the threshold. “I will go up. Make sure your lady is comfortably settled.”

“Where were you to take her? How were you to treat her?”

Kilburne hesitated, and his hand tightened on the door ring.

“That bad?” Parker kept his voice calm. Wondered what would have happened had they not been in the Queen’s Chamber. Had Katherine not intervened.

He thought suddenly of Will Somers, urging them to go to the Queen. He would talk to the Fool before this was over, find out how he knew Wolsey’s plans. And thank him for his help.

“I’m sorry, Parker. I did not know who she was.”

Parker lifted his head, up to the windows above him. “You know now.”

Kilburne paused, door half-closed. “I know now. And I have direct orders from the Queen. It will help me keep her safe if the Cardinal commands me otherwise, either directly or through the Constable of the Tower.”

Parker dragged his gaze back. “If Wolsey makes any move against my lady, makes any change at all to the Queen’s arrangements, send for me.”

Kilburne shook his head. “I cannot promise that. It may be impossible to get a message to you in time.”

“Then I would have one of my pages in the Tower with Mistress Horenbout. And have him accorded free passage.”

Kilburne hesitated, the shadow of the door concealing his expression.

Parker waited. He forced his breathing slow and even. He was not used to being the supplicant. But Kilburne was taking too long, and he could not accept it.

He gathered himself, a snarl already twisting his lips, hands lifted to grab Kilburne by the throat, when Kilburne finally spoke, his words tumbling over themselves, breathy.

“She can have one servant, and he will be free to come and go.” Kilburne stepped a little further back, ready to slam the door. “I’ll make an arrangement at the gate for him.”

Parker gave a nod, his limbs shaking with the force of violence held back. Unable to speak.

Kilburne swung the door shut in his face.

It was probably the first of many.

* * *

They had refused to let her turn and say her goodbyes. Hands, not so gentle now their leader was otherwise engaged, gripped her in a relentless march deep into the house and up the stairs.

She twisted her head, craning back to catch one last glimpse of Parker, and heard him shout as Kilburne denied him entrance.

She wanted to cry out to him, but clamped her mouth shut, grinding her back teeth together. He was capable of plowing through Kilburne to reach her, if he thought her in danger, and she would not have him in more trouble than he was already.

The guards pressed against her so tightly on the carved wooden stairway panic rose up to choke her, as if she were drowning, caught helpless in a maelstrom.

She knew it could be worse.

She could be in the White Tower, going down the stairs to the dungeon, instead of up to rooms in the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, tucked neatly up against the Bell Tower. Rooms which had formerly housed a French duke.

She sensed the men around her had expected more rough play, they were reined in and chafing against the restraints Kilburne and the Queen had set on them.

As they reached the top of the stairs and began down a passageway, a hand from behind splayed against the small of her back, slipped around her waist, bold and disrespectful.

Fear clawed at her. She was hemmed in, crowded. Overwhelmed.

She scrabbled for purchase on the smooth wooden floor as another hand snaked out to palm her breast, squeeze it.

They were growing bolder, the further they got from Kilburne.

She took a breath, her fists clenched before her, and stopped moving. She leaned back, her legs locked at the knees, bracing herself for the slam of bodies from behind. She angled herself to make a smaller obstacle as men tripped over her and each other.

She’d caught them by surprise. She had been nothing but cooperative since they had encountered her.

The man behind her swore as he tripped and twisted away to save himself, knocking into another guard. They both fell to the floor, at her feet.

Other men jostled each other to stay upright, grunting and swearing.

“You bitch.” One of the men on the floor gave her a slit-eyed glare.

“You were manhandling me. Someone was running his hands over me.” She did not flinch from the words and they remained, hanging in the air, clear and accusing. “It is not well done of you.” Even she could hear how accented her English was, all of a sudden. Fear and panic had brought her mother tongue back into her head, trying to override her new English speech.

She had not known what to expect, but she saw at least some looked uncomfortable at her accusation. They looked away, or at each other, and she said no more.

The men on the floor scrambled to their feet, and she thought the one who’d called her a bitch was one of those who had been free with his hands earlier.

“What is your name?” She looked directly at him, and for the first time, fear or nerves flickered in his eyes.

He did not want to tell her. He shuffled.

Perhaps he was remembering, suddenly, to whom she was betrothed. Or who had defended her when they had come for her.

“What is this, Merden?” Kilburne’s voice made her start. She had not heard him coming up the stairs, and by the panicked looked on his men’s faces, they hadn’t either.

“Merden.” Susanna said the name softly, and the guard turned away, a flush on his cheeks.

“What happened?” Kilburne hardened his tone.

There was silence.

“Your men were jostling me, forcing me along. Some were groping me.” She turned to him. “I refused to walk any further.”

Kilburne blinked. “Lewis?”

A guard stepped forward, tall and well muscled. She remembered he’d been near the front, leading them, and the men around him would not look at him, now.

“You are second-in-command.”

“Aye.” Lewis cleared his throat. “Aye.”

“And are you deaf?” Kilburne’s words were soft.

Lewis shifted, uncomfortable. “No, sir.”

“Are any of you deaf?” He waited them out as they shook their heads.

“Then you would have heard the Queen of England giving a direct instruction on the treatment of this prisoner. You would have heard me give my word of honour to obey it.”

A few faces paled. Heads nodded.

“Then, by God, follow it, or you will be held accountable.” His shout made them flinch. Susanna could not help flinching, herself.

“And the other? What of his instructions?” Merden spoke with a soft hiss, like a trapped grass snake.

Kilburne stared Merden down. “I cannot have a man under my command who will not follow my orders, Merden. If you would rather ask the Cardinal for a job in his household, by all means . . .” He swept his arm towards the stairs, and Merden shifted his eyes from his captain to the way out. Hesitated. Stepped back in line with the other men.

Kilburne gestured for her to continue down the passage, and his men shuffled aside to let them pass.

As she came abreast with Merden, she flicked him a glance and stumbled at the look in his eyes.

“Careful, the going is uneven.” Kilburne held out his arm.

Susanna took it, glanced back at Merden, her heart leaping in her throat. “So it would seem.”

Chapter Thirteen

and this is all the success that I can have in a court, for I must always differ from the rest, and then I shall signify nothing; or, if I agree with them, I shall then only help forward their madness.

Utopia by Thomas More (translated by H. Morley)

W
ith every step he took away from her, Parker’s failure weighed heavier on his shoulders. She was so vulnerable, at the mercy of too many who meant her harm.

He needed Peter Jack in those rooms with her. Knife in his boot and eyes open.

He was running by the time he reached Crooked Lane, his chest heaving as he pulled himself up the back stairs. A clawed fear-demon held fast to his lungs, squeezing them, piercing them mercilessly.

Harry, Peter Jack, Eric and Mistress Greene were on their feet as he stepped into the kitchen. White, fearful faces turning to him in expectation.

“She is in the Tower.”

Mistress Greene let out a single, whooping sob, then choked back the ones that would follow it. “What is the charge?”

“Wolsey accuses her of treason.”

At Harry’s shout of protest, he held up his hand.

“He has no proof. Absolutely none. He has moved against her too quickly, and that is at least one thing in our favour. That and she has the support of the Queen.”

“How will that help her?” Peter Jack’s voice cracked.

“It already has. The Queen bade the Tower Wardens take her to the royal apartments in the Lieutenant’s Lodgings, to the rooms she once gave to the Duc de Longueville. Susanna is in comfort, not in the dungeons, as Wolsey would have her.”

Mistress Greene sank down on the bench by the fire. “Thank the Good Lord.”

“What do we do?” Harry moved closer to the door, as if to leave immediately, and Parker felt a lift in the crushing weight that dragged at him.

“I persuaded the Captain to allow her a servant. I need Peter Jack there to keep watch on her, and to warn me if Wolsey makes any move. The Warden has guaranteed free passage.”

“And Harry?” Peter Jack scowled.

Parker cocked his head, looked properly at Peter Jack. “Harry and his lads are going to help me spy on Wolsey. To see who comes to him with information, and to watch where he goes.” He kept his voice calm, fighting the urge to roar. He did not have time for anything but immediate obedience.

“They were once my lads, too.”

“’Til you gave it all up for this.” Harry spoke quietly, hand flicking the air to encompass the kitchen, the house. The security of it all.

“You’re in here, too, aren’t you?” Peter Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “You look to have gotten the best of both.” He turned to Parker, his eyes narrowed. “You always leave me behind, and take him into the thick of the action—”

“Stop it.” Eric shoved Peter Jack hard enough to make him stumble. His slight body, only shoulder-height to his brother, vibrated with rage. “You think you’re left out of the action? What about me? You don’t think protecting my lady is a worthy job? I’ll do it.” He spun, facing Parker. “I’ll do it!”

Parker flicked his gaze from face to face. How had this blown up now, when every second counted? “Peter Jack, you once told Susanna you’d fight for her—”