A Love Most Dangerous (18 page)

The King flung the document back on Cromwell's ordered
pile, dislodging two papers which fell on the floor.

'I know it, Thomas, I know it.' He peered more closely
at Cromwell. 'I do believe you are going grey, Master Cromwell. You must be
ageing swiftly in my service.'

'I praise the fact, Your Grace. For with advancing age
comes greater wisdom. And so the better I may serve you.'

The King jerked a thumb towards Cromwell for my
benefit. 'Another example, Alice. Masterly flattery. Masterly.'

I was perplexed by this exchange. Did the King despise
Cromwell for such blatant flattery? Did Cromwell feel shamed he was so found
out that the King could make a jest of it.

I glanced from King to minister. No, there were no
such undercurrents. Both men were utterly at ease with each other. They both
spoke the truth and it did not worry them. It was as if they were playing a
game. It may have been a serious game but it was a game nonetheless.

'Some dissidents,' Cromwell said, offering the King a
list.

The King looked at it, distaste growing on his face.

'I do not wish to look at the names,' he said. 'You
deal with them.'

'Very good, Your Grace.' Cromwell rolled up the
parchment and put it to one side.

The King tapped his finger on his chin. Cromwell
paused in his shuffling of paper but did not glance up.

'Anybody I might need to know about?' the King asked,
casually.

'Nobody, Your Grace.'

There was a silence. This was a less comfortable
silence.

'There is Lord Brampton,' Cromwell answered at last.
'I did not think you'd wish to trouble yourself overmuch with him. He was ever
a staunch supporter of the late Queen.'

Which one, I wondered, Catherine, Anne or Jane?

'He was a loyal man in his youth,' the King mused. 'We
hunted much together. Even before I became King.'

Cromwell picked up the parchment and dipped a pen in a
little bottle of ink. He held the quill above the list, as if waiting for the
command to cross the name through.

'Do you think he's a danger, Thomas?' the King asked
at last. 'Really a danger?'

'I do, Your Grace. Else why would I put his name on
the list.'

'The Tower perhaps?'

'Your Grace is being merciful.' Cromwell flattened out
the parchment carefully.

'Too merciful perhaps?'

Cromwell did not answer but inclined his head the
merest fraction.

'Then let it stand. But a swift death. We were once
good friends.'

'And his property, Your Grace. The usual?'

The King nodded. 'But do not beggar his family. His
wife is a good woman. Leave his wife her home and three or four manors. Enough
to live on and bring up a family.'

'A new husband for her? Now that she is to become a
widow?'

'Is she still good-looking? I recall that she had a
comely face.'

'She has aged remarkably well, Your Grace.'

'Then a new husband, Thomas.'

'She will not be requiring so many properties in that
case.'

'True.' The King did quick calculation. 'Leave her
just the one, then. The one she lives on.'

'Just the one,' said Cromwell making quick marks on a
piece of paper.

I saw the King's eyes grow piggy and he leaned forward
a little unable to hide his interest.

'Four thousand acres,' Cromwell told him. 'Six hundred
pounds in cash and effects.'

I leaned back in my chair. What lessons I was being
given today. Flattery was the least of it. I was learning how to rule a
kingdom. How to rule a minister. How to manage a king.

I was learning the power of life and death.

The King poured himself a cup of wine and gestured to
Cromwell to pour himself another. The King watched with brooding eyes as he
raised the cup to his lips.

'You have spoken with Alice, Thomas?' he said quietly.

'I have, Your Grace.'

'Then you know?' he left the rest of the sentence
unsaid.

Cromwell inclined his head.

'Does anybody else know, do you think?'

Cromwell sighed. 'Not unless the girl has told anyone
of what has transpired.'

I felt my mouth go dry. 'I have not Your Grace.'

I was going to add, 'I swear it,' but thought that
would sound too frightened, too desperate, too suspicious.

Cromwell turned his sharp eyes upon me. 'No hints, no
intimations, no girlish boasts?'

'None, Your Grace.'

The silence settled on the room like a watchful beast.

'Should it be known, do you think?' asked the King.

Cromwell rested his chin in his hand. I stared at him.
I sensed behind that bland exterior his thoughts worked like a ship leaving
port, seeking out the currents, sniffing out the wind, tacking this way and
that to make the clearest headway.

'I would advise not, Your Majesty,' he said at last.
'The Queen's death is but recent and she has many supporters at Court still.
Her brothers for example.'

The King seemed to bridle. 'Would any dispute my
right?'

'Of course not, Majesty.' Cromwell's tone was
emollient as cream. He paused to find the safest words. 'But folk may know a
thing and not wish to be reminded of it. Not immediately after some terrible
shock like untimely death.'

'So I can have my favourite but not announce it?'

Cromwell opened his hands to indicate agreement. But a
moment later he said. 'Favourite, Majesty? The term may be thought too charged
for a good while yet.'

'By those who don't want their noses rubbed in it?'

'Exactly.'

The King leaned back and Cromwell picked up his wine
and sipped at it.

'So,' said the King. 'We shall keep it private for the
time being.'

'I think you decide right,' Cromwell said.

'I weary of the tittle tattle of the Courtiers in any
case,' the King said. 'I will announce it in my own good time.'

'In that case, Majesty,' Cromwell murmured, 'we must
be doubly sure that no one knows.'

'Apart from we three there's only Frost.'

'I trust him,' Cromwell said. His eyes turned to me
once more.

'No one,' I said. 'I swear.' I thought of what Susan
and Mary suspected but said not a word of this. 'I have told no one.'

'We have it then,' said the King lightly. 'Not quite a
State secret but private nonetheless.'

I saw Cromwell nod and then pause a tiny fraction.
When he spoke once more it was in a voice made conversational and innocent.

'How does Alice know when you require her presence?'

'I send for her,' said the King. He sat upright,
realising the import of his words.

'The same messenger, Your Majesty?'

The King frowned, uncertain of who had been sent.

'It is, Your Majesty,' I said. 'It is always the same
page. Humphrey is his name.' I swallowed hard and tried to calm my heart. 'He is
a saucy boy but not, I think, one to lightly gossip.'

'Let us hope not,' said Cromwell. 'I shall examine
him.'

The King nodded.

I bit my lip.

Cromwell reminded the King that the Ambassador of
France was due at any time. I was told I would not be required for the rest of
the day. I took my leave and departed the chamber with Frost leading the way as
if to spy out watchful eyes. I sensed that the most watchful eyes had been left
behind me and resided in the head of the Lord Privy Seal.

Frost departed once we were safely beyond the King's
privy chambers and I slipped past the Kitchens and hurried to my room. I felt
no need of food. My stomach was heavy as a rock.

I slumped onto the bed. It felt like I had been on a
gruelling journey and I fell into a sudden swift sleep.

Later that day I sat alone in my chamber, my thoughts
still racing. I went over in my mind the meeting between the King and Cromwell.
There was something strange about it, something unusual about their
relationship. Something I could not quite put my finger on.

I gazed out of the window. Snow had fallen while I'd
slept and it had laid a mantle of softness upon the hard earth. It looked so
beautiful. Even the branches of the trees were decked in white. I used to think
that snowflakes were fairies when I saw them as a child. Good fairies, white
and kind yet strong enough to protect me should I have need.

I pressed my face to the window and sighed with
pleasure. It was so peaceful, so innocent and fresh.

The thought of innocence must have triggered it.
Within a moment my thoughts slipped back to Cromwell who must have long ago
forgotten innocence.

Try though I might I could not fathom the man. Beyond
the certain fact that he was utterly loyal to the King, I could not hold onto
any one opinion of him. It was as if he were a cloud of smoke, sifting and
changing constantly; one moment light and opaque, the next as dense and
impenetrable as night.

And yet?

I frowned. Men walked in dread of him. Courageous men
blanched at his mere mention.

And yet? And yet I did not feel such fear of him. Why
was this? I could sense the menace true enough. But it was as if he had chosen
to lock that peril away for me.

Was this because I was the King's lover? I dismissed
the notion even as I thought it. I recalled my interview in his study. Aye,
perhaps that was it. Perhaps then he had decided what he thought of me. Or
decided his plan concerning me.

At that moment the door to the chamber was flung open
and a figure hurtled into my room.

It was Humphrey, the Page. He slammed the door shut
and leaned against it as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. He was white
as the fields outside and his chest was heaving.

'Whatever's the matter?' I cried.

'That devil,' he said. 'That devil, Baron Cromwell.'

I told to him to sit down and poured a cup of wine for
him.

'He summoned me, he did, Miss,' he stammered. 'He
summoned me and examined me for an hour. It felt like days. I thought that any
moment I'd be taken off and placed upon a rack. That may have been less painful,
come to that.'

His eyes watered and a little tear fell on his cheek.
He brushed it swiftly away; it left a mark of grime upon his face.

'What did he want of you?' I asked as gently as I
could. I knew what Cromwell had wanted but felt it best to ask if only to calm
the boy.

'He wanted to know if I'd told anybody that I'd taken
you to the King. If I'd told anybody that I even took a message from the King
to you.'

'And have you?'

'By the heart of our Saviour I have not.'

I stared at him. 'I always worry when boys such as you
swear on the name of our Saviour.'

'On my mother's life then.' He wiped his nose. 'There,
that's more the thing for me to swear on.'

I hid a smile. I suspected it was indeed.

'You've told nobody? None of your friends?'

He shook his head.

'Not even to boast of your importance?'

'Give me some sense,' he cried. He pointed to his
head. 'Do you think I'd risk this for a bit of gossip? Give me more sense than
that, Miss.'

I held up my hands to placate him although I thought
that he was, perhaps, protesting his innocence a little too strongly. I seemed
to recall that he had boasted to me about winning a wager with the Pages but
thought it best not to remind him of that. If he chose to forget it, then why
should I make him even more fretful.

'I believe you,' I said, as casually as I could. 'But
did the Lord Privy Seal?'

A little moan came from his chest. 'I didn't think so,
not for a long while. I'm bound for the chop, I thought to myself, and I'm not
fourteen.'

'You'd have been hanged, Humphrey. The axe is only for
gentlemen.' I said this with a chuckle to make him calm. It did not work; he
scowled at me.

'Well I thought I was for it, anyway. He questioned me
every which way, so many questions that I became confused. I contradicted
myself, I told the opposite of what I'd said the second before. I knew I was
doing it but I couldn't help myself. He went on and on and on, just like my mum
does but worse.'

'But did he believe you?'

He shrugged. And then he pulled a scarf from out his
pocket, and then another.

'This is what saved my skin, Miss.'

I reached out for them. They were nothing but rags,
one red, one green.

'How could these save your skin?'

Humphrey sat upright, his face suddenly brightening.
He reminded me of a youngster cockerel readying itself for its first ever crow.