mouth as if to still the trembling of her lips.
“I am safe and well.” He slid his arms around her, wincing as the movement caused ripples of pain up his neck and down his arm.
She said nothing, shaking in the circle of his arms without making a sound. His left hand stroked her back, and at last she breathed in deeply and lifted her head.
“This cannot go on. It needs to end.” She spoke in a whisper.
“I drew blood from him tonight. He will not easily lift a crossbow for a few days. It will give us some time.”
She sighed and rested her head against his left shoulder. “What is Norfolk’s role in this, do you think?”
Parker let the feel of her, the heat and flexible strength, seep into his tired body. “When Wyatt went to him about the Mirror, it was surely the best day of Norfolk’s life. If he could expose Wolsey to the King, catch him out with the Mirror of Naples …” Parker thought of the humiliation, the absolute disgrace that would come down on Wolsey. “It would be the triumph of Norfolk’s life at court.”
“Norfolk must have had Jens followed, and through that, found the cloth merchant Jens had asked to provide passage out of England.” Susanna eased away and led him like a child back to his chair.
“Aye.” Parker sank down gratefully. “Jens was either charged by Wolsey to be the courier of the Mirror to France, and was arranging passage with the merchant, or he had some other plan afoot. Perhaps he had even decided to flee without Wolsey’s knowledge.”
Susanna rubbed her temples. “And Norfolk was either paying or blackmailing the merchant to give him information. To betray Jens.”
“To catch Wolsey.” Parker closed his eyes. “Norfolk would not care who he ruined if it meant having Wolsey thrown from court. Or better yet, beheaded.”
“So what happens now?” Susanna knelt beside him and took his hand in hers.
“The French don’t have the Mirror. The Comte would have left with it already if they did. So either Wolsey has it, or he knows where it is. I’ll have to talk with him again.”
“What happens if he won’t tell you?” She traced the back of his hand with her fingertips.
Parker opened his eyes. “He will.”
W olsey’s red cardinal’s hat stood high and proud on his head. When it had been sent from Rome more than ten years earlier, Parker had heard it was received at Dover like royalty and accompanied to London in the same way. There had been a procession through the streets with it.
Now it dipped and swayed as Wolsey stood at the altar in the chapel at Blackfriars. If rumor was right, the Queen had insisted on this ceremony to thank God for sparing the King’s life after his fall into the ditch.
Her motives were no doubt sincere, but Parker knew the King did not want any reminders to the nobility that he could have died without a legitimate male heir. The only way tomitigate the damage was to keep it private and quiet. So though the Queen had wanted it held at St. Paul’s or Westminster, the King had persuaded her he would prefer a more personal, heartfelt ceremony among friends.
Parker and Susanna’s invitation now gave Parker access to Wolsey, if he could get the Cardinal alone.
Quiet ceremony or no, Wolsey had made use of the occasion to wear his red robes, to remind those present that he was the highest-ranking official of Rome in England.
And you want to be higher. Parker watched Wolsey perform the rituals and wondered if he would ever attain his ambition. He was one of the King’s new men; like Parker himself, raised up from obscurity because of his ambition, intelligence, and hard work. They could have been natural allies, but Wolsey’s ego would suffer no rival. Parker had learned long ago that every honor that went to someone else, Wolsey considered stolen from him. He would have it all, even control of the Christian realm itself.
Wolsey came to the end of his liturgy, and the congregation rose.
The King and Queen led the
“I am safe and well.” He slid his arms around her, wincing as the movement caused ripples of pain up his neck and down his arm.
She said nothing, shaking in the circle of his arms without making a sound. His left hand stroked her back, and at last she breathed in deeply and lifted her head.
“This cannot go on. It needs to end.” She spoke in a whisper.
“I drew blood from him tonight. He will not easily lift a crossbow for a few days. It will give us some time.”
She sighed and rested her head against his left shoulder. “What is Norfolk’s role in this, do you think?”
Parker let the feel of her, the heat and flexible strength, seep into his tired body. “When Wyatt went to him about the Mirror, it was surely the best day of Norfolk’s life. If he could expose Wolsey to the King, catch him out with the Mirror of Naples …” Parker thought of the humiliation, the absolute disgrace that would come down on Wolsey. “It would be the triumph of Norfolk’s life at court.”
“Norfolk must have had Jens followed, and through that, found the cloth merchant Jens had asked to provide passage out of England.” Susanna eased away and led him like a child back to his chair.
“Aye.” Parker sank down gratefully. “Jens was either charged by Wolsey to be the courier of the Mirror to France, and was arranging passage with the merchant, or he had some other plan afoot. Perhaps he had even decided to flee without Wolsey’s knowledge.”
Susanna rubbed her temples. “And Norfolk was either paying or blackmailing the merchant to give him information. To betray Jens.”
“To catch Wolsey.” Parker closed his eyes. “Norfolk would not care who he ruined if it meant having Wolsey thrown from court. Or better yet, beheaded.”
“So what happens now?” Susanna knelt beside him and took his hand in hers.
“The French don’t have the Mirror. The Comte would have left with it already if they did. So either Wolsey has it, or he knows where it is. I’ll have to talk with him again.”
“What happens if he won’t tell you?” She traced the back of his hand with her fingertips.
Parker opened his eyes. “He will.”
W olsey’s red cardinal’s hat stood high and proud on his head. When it had been sent from Rome more than ten years earlier, Parker had heard it was received at Dover like royalty and accompanied to London in the same way. There had been a procession through the streets with it.
Now it dipped and swayed as Wolsey stood at the altar in the chapel at Blackfriars. If rumor was right, the Queen had insisted on this ceremony to thank God for sparing the King’s life after his fall into the ditch.
Her motives were no doubt sincere, but Parker knew the King did not want any reminders to the nobility that he could have died without a legitimate male heir. The only way tomitigate the damage was to keep it private and quiet. So though the Queen had wanted it held at St. Paul’s or Westminster, the King had persuaded her he would prefer a more personal, heartfelt ceremony among friends.
Parker and Susanna’s invitation now gave Parker access to Wolsey, if he could get the Cardinal alone.
Quiet ceremony or no, Wolsey had made use of the occasion to wear his red robes, to remind those present that he was the highest-ranking official of Rome in England.
And you want to be higher. Parker watched Wolsey perform the rituals and wondered if he would ever attain his ambition. He was one of the King’s new men; like Parker himself, raised up from obscurity because of his ambition, intelligence, and hard work. They could have been natural allies, but Wolsey’s ego would suffer no rival. Parker had learned long ago that every honor that went to someone else, Wolsey considered stolen from him. He would have it all, even control of the Christian realm itself.
Wolsey came to the end of his liturgy, and the congregation rose.
The King and Queen led the
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