In a Treacherous Court by Michelle Diener Page B

tell her this.
    “The year before old King Henry died, he locked our present King away for many months. The Prince was not allowed to speak unless spoken to. He took his lessons mostly from his father, and did not speak to any tutors brought in. They lectured him, and he listened in silence. He could speak to no other courtiers, and if he wished to go outside, he had to leave by a side door into the park. He took all his meals in his room, and on one occasion the King almost killed him, beating him until his courtiers intervened.”
    “What happened?” Susanna realized she was leaning forward, her body tense.
    “No one knew. Some said that with his oldest son dead, the King was taking pains to protect his only remaining heir. Some said he was keeping the prince close, and teaching him the ways of kingship.”
    “But the truth of it was …?”
    “The truth of it was that the prince had become obsessed with Cesare Borgia. Borgia had just been killed in battle in Navarre, fighting against the French King at his brother-in-law’s side. His story was one of daring, courage, and bravery. He was larger than life, irresistible to the young Prince.”
    “What harm was there in that?”
    Parker sighed, rubbed his forehead. “There would have been none, had the Prince not decided he would like a similar life. He was close to his brother Arthur’s widow, now our Queen, and he wrote to her father, Ferdinand of Spain, asking for a small army and a cause to fight against the French on the Continent.”
    Susanna gasped at the implications. “He did not ask his father’s permission?”
    “Nay. You can only imagine what the King would have said to that. The Prince planned to sneak away with the help of his closest friend, Charles Brandon, now Duke of Suffolk.”
    There was a creak at the door, and Parker was on his feet, knife in hand, before Susanna had even turned to look.
    It was Peter Jack.
    “Wait a moment in the kitchen, please. I will call youwhen we are ready.” Parker relaxed his stance but remained standing as Peter Jack limped away down the passage. It was a testament to the story’s grip that neither had heard his approach.
    “A messenger handed Henry’s missive to the old King before it was sent, and his rage was boundless. He came to blows with the Prince. He believed that Ferdinand would have taken the Prince’s defiance and poor sense as a mark against the whole royal family. He put the Prince under constant watch.”
    “How did you discover all this?”
    “It so happened there was another missive—one that was never intercepted. The Prince had sent it to Borgia’s brother-in-law, D’Albret, declaring his admiration for Borgia and his contempt for the Pope, the French King, and even the Spanish, who had imprisoned Borgia for two years before he escaped.”
    “The letter was truly insulting?” Susanna was finally beginning to see the reason for the desperation behind the attacks. The Pope, the French King, and the Spanish King were powerful people to insult.
    “All three had stuck a knife in Borgia’s back.” Parker spoke not with contempt, exactly, but with an edge to his tone. She knew that, even as a young man, he would not have idolized anyone to the extent that Henry had idolized Borgia. Parker lived by his own rules; while she was sure he held some men in respect, he would never follow their path. He would always forge his own.
    Parker turned from the door and paced toward the fire. “Somehow, that letter fell out of D’Albret’s hands and intothose of a Frenchman who found passage to London as a sailor.”
    “The mercenary?”
    “Aye. After I found the letter, I went to find Maggie to see to the Frenchman’s wounds. When we returned, he had bled to death.”
    “What did he want for the letter? Money?”
    “I can only assume he thought it would make him his fortune.”
    “And now you held something you could not keep.” Susanna wondered what she would have done in Parker’s place.