"You wouldn't have wanted the body lying near this house, though, would you? The sheriff would've been called round, and I don't think that would suit you. You could have dumped him anywhere." Peter Jack stood as well.

Susanna hadn't thought of that possibility, and she turned sharply to Jean. "Is that what you've done?" How could she not have thought of this?

A wave of nausea washed over her, bathing her in cold, clammy sweat, and she leaned forward, her hands on her knees. "Let's go." She stood, breathing in deeply, as she spoke to the boys.

"What about our mutual promise of aid?" Jean blocked the way to the door.

Susanna stared at him. "I need a little time to work out the consequences. You must know the price you ask for your help is very high. High enough to land me on the headman's block."

"Your servants have made you distrust me." He flicked a look at Harry and Peter Jack that made her shiver.

"Monsieur, yesterday you tried to kill me and another man in front of my eyes. A few days earlier, you killed one of my father's oldest friends." She pointed a finger at his chest. "Less than a day ago you stabbed my betrothed with a jagged glass bottle, and now you wish me to believe you will help me find him and deliver him safely. And the price for your help is a jewel the sovereigns of two countries would go to war for."

She gathered her skirts about her and drew herself tall. "I do not need anyone to point out that I would be foolish to trust you blindly. Very foolish indeed."

He said nothing for a moment, then stepped aside. "And you are anything but foolish, madame."

As she went past him, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder and she jerked to a halt.

He bent down and spoke in her ear. "You know where to find me when you decide you need my help. You may not want to be foolish, but do not be too clever, either."

25.

Yet it cannot be called talent to slay fellow-citizens, to deceive friends, to be without faith, without mercy, without religion; such methods may gain empire, but not glory.

-Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 8 They walked home in silence.

Harry had begun to speak just outside the Comte's door, but Susanna had shaken her head, and neither he nor Peter Jack had opened their mouths again.

She could tell they were looking for the Comte's spies along the road, but she didn't bother. She spent every step thinking through her choices, laying out the pieces of the puzzle just as she would lay out her pigments and brushes before she went to work.

When she climbed the stairs to the back door and stepped into the kitchen, panic and desperation had loosened their hold a little.

"How many did you see?" Harry spoke to Peter Jack as they closed the door behind her.

"Three."

"I did, too, but I wager there were more."

Susanna lifted off her cloak and hung it on a hook near the door. "They must have seen me slip into the churchyard and sent word to the Comte. Jean knew exactly where to find me."

"And there we sat, like two fat lumps, waiting in the Comte's hall," Harry said with disgust.

"It doesn't matter. He did me no harm, and we have information we did not have before, as well as an offer of help." Susanna slid into a chair, her voice soft so as not to wake Mistress Greene and Eric.

"You won't accept it, will you?" Harry joined her, getting close to the fire. He shivered as the warmth reached him, and rubbed his hands together.

"I may have no choice." She rubbed stiff fingers under her cap. "I cannot go to Norfolk. I do not trust him and he would not willingly help Parker. The other men that come to mind ..." She thought of Francis Bryan, of Guildford and Courtenay. All men who owed Parker their lives. But would they act with the urgency needed?

"You could speak with Simon." Peter Jack had not sat, his cloak still around him. "I can fetch him now."

Susanna nodded, but as he turned to go, a thought struck her. "Wait. Say nothing of the bargain Jean has offered. If I'm forced to take it, I would rather no one knows of it."

"But surely Jean is taking a gamble? He has not been able to find the jewel himself; why does he think you could get it?"

"He doesn't strike me as a man who would gamble with something this big." She twined her fingers round and round, round and round ... then froze. Why hadn't she seen it before? "He knows where the jewel is." Certainty struck deeper with every word. "He just cannot get to it."

"And he thinks you can?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"It must be hidden in the palace, or somewhere else I have access. Somewhere no one would question my presence."

"I think you're right." Peter Jack dropped his hand from the door handle. "Which means if he can find Parker, can bring him to us ..."

A heavy, roiling serpent took up residence in her stomach. "I would be obliged to commit treason."

Bridewell was lit with candles and lanterns. As she walked down the passageways, she thought there was an extra gleam on everything tonight, as if there were some special occasion.

She had chosen not to involve Simon.

If things didn't work out, if she ended her days on the headman's block, she wanted her taint on as few people as possible. That Harry and Peter Jack were already deep in the mire hung heavily on her, but as Parker's servants, they would be suspect anyway. There was no shielding them.

If there was no other solution, she would follow in the steps of the King's sister, Queen Mary. She would give the jewel in exchange for her lover's life.

She hoped there was a better way.

She reached the antechamber to the Privy Chamber and realized with dread that she'd arrived at a bad time.

The King was not dining quietly in his rooms tonight, nor with the Queen. He was entertaining.

There was music, and Susanna saw that the flute player she knew from Ghent was still in the King's service. As usual, he acknowledged her entrance with a high, sweet trill, lifting the flute up and tipping back his head.

The small display of friendship and solidarity from a fellow countryman helped. She breathed in and began to look for the King.

She heard the murmur of French and German, of her native Flemish and Dutch, as she slipped between the beautifully dressed men and women. There were wealthy merchants here tonight, as well as clergymen and nobles from the principalities of Europe.

Her heart sank.

This was not the time and place to speak with the King, but now was all she had. The thought of postponing her audience made her sick.

She could not wait.

"It is strange to see you about, my lady, without Parker scowling like a fierce hawk at your shoulder." The words were spoken lightly, with humor, and a hand touched her arm.

Susanna turned, and at the sight of Will Somers her panic lifted a little. The Fool was dressed all in black tonight, and her image of him as a quick-witted and humorous Death was made all the stronger.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Somers may be kind and wish her well, but anything she said was fair game to the King's fool. There would be no keeping Parker's disappearance a secret if he knew of it.

She frowned, weighing the benefits and drawbacks of Parker's disappearance remaining a secret.

"I think you have decided the fate of mankind and put to rest the secrets of alchemy in these few short moments, my lady. Never have I seen a brain working so fast."

"My pardon." Susanna lowered her eyes and hoped she looked suitably demure. But when she lifted her head, Will Somers was watching her, his head tilted to the side.

"What is afoot, my lady?"

She shook her head, a twinge of regret in the movement. There was something about Somers that made her want to trust him, but not enough to risk Parker.

"I need to speak with the King, and did not realize he would be occupied this evening."

A laugh rolled out from the center of the room, and Susanna stilled. The King was surrounded by men in fine velvet doublets, all taking care not to crowd him too much.

Susanna set her shoulders back and started forward. With one long stride, Somers grabbed her shoulder and held her back.

"You'll do more harm than good to approach him tonight. He is in a vicious mood. There is no news yet from the Emperor on a war with France, and he is impatient to move ahead."

The King laughed again, and Susanna raised an eyebrow at Somers.

"He laughs, but darkness lies no deeper than the scratch of a fingernail beneath the surface. Before the dinner began, he sent Wolsey scurrying away when he tried to come forward with another complaint about Parker. It is the first time I've seen the King lose his temper with the Cardinal."

Susanna gripped Somers's long black sleeve. "What did Wolsey say about Parker?"

Somers shrugged. "Barely anything before the King went red in the face. A line about Parker conspiring with the French."

Rage flashed through Susanna like a lightning strike. Every sense was alive and burning, her body ready for battle. If Wolsey had been nearby, she would have thrown the knife that was up her sleeve straight for his eye.

Somers stepped back. "You are no friend of the Cardinal tonight either, I see." For the first time, there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

She drew in her breath between clenched teeth. "I am no friend of his ever."

She turned. If Somers was right, she would not approach the King tonight. But now she knew where she could go. Wolsey's complaints held the smack of preparation, of setting up Parker as a scapegoat.

And scapegoats were kept tethered to a pole, safely chained as they awaited their fate.

"Where are you going, my lady?" Somers's soft call made her look over her shoulder.

"To find a pole."

26.

A wise prince ought to observe some such rules, and never in peaceful times stand idle, but increase his resources with industry in such a way that they may be available to him in adversity, so that if fortune chances it may find him prepared to resist her blows.

-Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 14 Before she reached the door, a hand fell on her shoulder in a strong grip. A tight-knit group of Frenchmen closed in around her, shielding her from the rest of the room.

Susanna glared at the man holding her. She was tired of being manhandled. "You move quickly, Monsieur le Comte." She tugged and he released her with a little dip of his head.

"No faster than you, madame. You wasted no time coming to the King." The men around them were pretending not to listen, and he took her arm again to steer her to a little alcove in a private corner.

"I know you have heard of the argument between Wolsey and the King. In fact, I know to the precise moment when you did hear it. I saw your face," he said.

"That must have been a blow to your plans." She had damped down the rage she felt at Wolsey, but now it came roaring back to life. "Did you think somehow Wolsey's accusations wouldn't reach my ears?"

"We are not behind this." The Comte slammed his fist into his open palm. "Madame, on my life, we did not lie to you tonight. We do not know where your betrothed is."

"Then you must at least be pleased with what has happened tonight. Wolsey intends to give you the jewel, if he's trying to lay blame on Parker in advance. Otherwise all he needs do is to return the jewel to its place."

The Comte started, suddenly alert. "You do not know. Wolsey has told us very clearly he will not give us the Mirror of Naples."

"Why not?"

"Because he does not know where it is."

Susanna did not move. "How can that be?"

The Comte shrugged. "Because Jens of Antwerp panicked. That is the only explanation. I don't think Wolsey told him exactly what he would be doing when he got to London."

"And when he realized what it really was, he went a little ... mad." That would explain a great deal.

The Comte nodded. "When Jens fell out with Wolsey, the Cardinal denied him access to the palace. That is when Jens began running around London, approaching friends for a way out of the country."

"Jean killed him." She wanted to wash her skin where the Comte had touched her; there was too much blood on his hands.

The Comte looked down his aquiline nose at her. "I understand your distrust of us. But we are willing to help you get what you want, if you help us get what we want."

"You ask a great deal."