‘Aye. But … I’m a proper courtier now. It won’t take you long neither.’

  He gestured to the door behind him. ‘Why’d you want to go in there when the king isn’t in?’

  ‘I always go in there. I like to leave things for His Majesty to make him laugh. It’s my vocation, lad.’

  ‘You do this often?’

  ‘Sometimes I await him with my cittern. He likes his music, does Harry. Come, lad. Don’t make me have to get another guard who knows me.’

  The man looked about, wondering what he should do … when of all the things, Cromwell poked his head through. He stopped and glanced at the guard, then at me. The guard came to attention, and at that, Cromwell sauntered forward.

  ‘Ah, Thomas,’ I said, slipping my arm in his. ‘Tell this lad, here, that I am free to come and go to the king’s chamber whether he abides there or not.’

  Wide-eyed, the guard looked from me to Cromwell and to my arm in Cromwell’s crook.

  Cromwell, too, looked down at my arm in his and gently shook me loose. ‘I’m afraid the fool is correct. He does have leave to go whither he wishes. And now, Somers, if you will excuse me …’

  I bowed low to him. ‘I will give you every excuse you wish, Thomas.’

  He barely restrained from shaking his head before he moved back into the privy chamber, grabbed his leather satchel from the table, and exited to the king’s dining chamber.

  The guard smiled. ‘That’s good enough for me, Master Somers.’

  ‘Bless thee!’ I saluted, and entered. And when I closed the door, I rested against it, catching my breath. The last thing I wanted was for a witness to say I left something in Henry’s room. But maybe I could still be unknown. Especially if I left him a silly note on his writing table. For then it would be in another hand. After all, Marion had written the note I was even now about to place under Henry’s pillow.

  I approached the huge bed, with its tester above and curtains pushed back and tied to each post. It had been made beautifully, which meant it was ready for his weary body when night fell. I smoothed my hand over the soft linen of the pillow with its embroidered H, filled with the down of goose and swan, and marveled again how privileged I was to even be in such a room, to touch the royal pillow that cradled the royal head. Who was Will Somers of Shropshire to be able to do such? Only a crook-back fool of a lad, that’s who.

  I lifted the pillow, took the scrap of paper from out of my doublet, and slid it there, carefully replacing the pillow and smoothing it out, like any groomsman or usher.

  Then, I sat m’self down at his writing table, took a quill, and penned a naughty few lines to make him laugh. He’d know it was from me, even if I didn’t sign it.

  I chuckled to myself about that, glanced once more hastily to the pillow, and made my way out again. Simple as that.

  I spent some time with Nosewise, teaching him more tricks, and never was there a more malleable cur than him. I fashioned a little hat for him to match my own, and he willingly wore it, so as I walked through the passages playing a pipe, he trotted along behind me, garnering laughter at the little dog that looked like the jester.

  And when a servant came to fetch me to attend to the king, I was prepared and went forth. He was in one of his chambers playing cards with Lady Nan. Nan’s ladies, some of them, were there, and some of Henry’s men, and it made for a bright little gathering, where the grooms trifled with the maids with their eyes, and the maids trifled back.

  But it was Lady Nan who started it, started talking about the Spanish influence at the English court and why were they allowed such latitude, and Henry grew more cross as she talked. I interjected with a bawdy song, but it did not ease his brow. As talk moved across the room, Henry finally shot to his feet, hurling down his cards. ‘No more of this! I shall order all the Spanish in this court to be killed if there is even a whiff of conspiracy, from the noblest man down to his faithful groom. Make no mistake, I shall not tolerate any form of intrigue in my court!’

  We had all fallen to silence. I swallowed hard. God’s body! If any conspiracy was told to him, he’d kill all the Spanish? Even Rodrigo! What had I done?

  ‘Will?’ cried Henry, grabbing my arm painfully. ‘What’s amiss? You look as white as a winding sheet. Here! Thomas, get him some wine.’

  Nosewise whined at my feet, gazing solicitously up at me with his wide round eyes.

  ‘It’s naught, sire. I merely felt a bit faint. I was so busy teaching this little dog that I forgot to eat.’

  ‘Bring the man some meat,’ said Henry, and it was brought. And the dear man fed me himself, taking each scrap and holding it forth, until, like a baby bird, I opened my mouth to receive it.

  Oh, Henry. If you only knew. I secreted that letter for you, to warn you of Spanish plots. But now I had to steal it back before you saw it.

  And how the devil was I ever to do that?

  TWELVE

  I hovered by Henry’s inner sanctum door, which wasn’t suspicious in itself, for Will Somers could always be counted on to abide near the king wherever he was at court, even at his close stool. There was many a time I helped along the king’s regularity by spouting some nonsense, and he shat himself right good laughing in the best place for it.

  But on my oath, I felt as guilty as any sinner, felt it could be read right off my silly face. For I desperately needed to steal back that letter!

  Why had I been so stupid as to think that Henry did not know of plots threatening him? Surely Cromwell and the many courtiers of the privy council knew of these plots and had already made them known to him. Or kept it from him so he would not erupt like a volcano. And here I was, bumbling Will Somers, tossing fuel into the eruption.

  I needed to leave the conspiracies to the men who knew what to do about them, and stick to foolery. For I didn’t want to get poor Rodrigo killed on my account.

  Still … should that also be left to the investigators? And who might they be?

  ‘First things first,’ I admonished myself. ‘Get that letter.’

  I had no chance to get in there, for Henry was in one or other of his rooms all day and it looked as if he’d be there into the evening, gaming, plotting …

  Maybe I could lure him out with other entertainments. Yet if I was with him, how would I get back to the chamber?

  But then, like an answered prayer, here she was, my excuse, my savior. Simply strolling the corridors without her ladies.

  I bowed low. ‘Lady Nan.’

  ‘Will Somers, you vexation.’

  ‘Indeed, my lady. What are your plans this fine evening?’

  ‘My plans are none of your affair.’

  ‘Oh, but they are.’ I took her arm, and though she resisted at first, she relaxed when she reckoned the only thing I had in mind was to hold her close, like siblings. ‘But you are not here with your ladies. What would the court think of this!’

  ‘You prating fool.’

  I forced a laugh. ‘No, my lady. What do you think of this suggestion? Take Harry out to the gardens and walk with him.’

  ‘What? Why should I bother to do that?’

  ‘Because it is a fitting thing to do while the king is still married.’ Her body stiffened and she pressed her lips together. Aye, when she went about in the city or into towns, the people called out to her most viciously, calling her a whore and a sorceress. And in the same breath hailed our queen. She knew it all well.

  More softly, I said, ‘Henry loves the outdoors. He’d sleep out there if he could. Take him for a lovely walk and amuse yourselves in the privacy of the gardens. A lovely place to woo and be wooed.’

  Cods! She was actually considering it. ‘He’d like that?’

  ‘Anything you’d suggest, dear lady.’

  She had decided. She had probably thought it before I made the suggestion, for what was she doing so near his chambers without her escorts? Coming to the king’s chamber alone was folly at this point, but a walk in the gardens, that was acceptable. ‘Go on, Will. You tell the king I await without.’

  I bowed, and sent up a prayer of thanks to God who would care for the small neck of His greatest fool.

  I pushed the door open to the watching chamber, getting only a glance from the guards. Then I stalked through the presence chamber past two other chambers to the withdrawing room – passing more guards as I went – where I finally found Henry reading some papers in his bedchamber with a frown creasing his brow.

  ‘Uncle!’ I slapped his shoulder and he twisted in surprise to look upon me.

  ‘Oh, it’s only you.’

  ‘Only me?’ I pressed my hand to my breast as if an arrow had struck me there, and I fell to the ground, legs shaking. ‘You wound me, sire. It is only Will Somers. I die. I die!’

  ‘Get up, you pillicock.’

  I sprang to my feet and leaned on him, looking over his shoulder at his papers. ‘These papers seem to make you into a foul thundercloud.’

  ‘It is all these lawyers!’

  ‘Alas. But … if you are very good to me, I will make a suggestion to ease your brow.’

  ‘Eh? What’s that?’

  ‘What you need, my liege, is a good walk in the garden.’

  ‘I haven’t time for that. I have issues of state to consider.’

  ‘Issues of state can wait. You need good English exercise. Up with you, man.’

  He pushed me away. ‘Leave it, Will.’

  ‘Oh, but Uncle, did I say you’d be alone? Silly me for my forgetfulness.’

  He cocked his head toward me. ‘What devilry is here?’

  ‘No devilry, Uncle. Just … a lady. Who seeks good exercise with you. She awaits without.’

  He rose. ‘Is there a lady outside my chamber?’ he whispered.

  ‘Why yes, Harry. A goodly lady, a dark lady, a mysterious lady … who likes taking walks with you. The Lady Nan, in case you wondered.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say so, you cur?’

  ‘Because I delight in surprising you.’ I grinned.

  Henry already looked happier.

  He didn’t even glance back at his papers and pushed past me, as I rubbed my hands together, edging my way to the royal bed.

  Henry was out the door, and I thrust my hand under his pillow and found … nothing!

  ‘What the devil?’ I dived my head under the pillow to inspect just as Cromwell and his secretary, Ralph Sadler, strode in. He was fair of face, brown-haired, with a soft beard and mustache. He might be comely, but he had in his eye the same fervency as his master, that of ambition, and be damned who he trod upon. I have noticed, in my time at court, that such things were common, but never ended well.

  I scrambled out from under the pillow just in time to sit cross-legged on the center of the bed.

  They had not noticed me when they began talking.

  But Cromwell here in the king’s private chambers when the king wasn’t here, I wondered mightily what was afoot.

  ‘The king took his leave with the Lady Anne once again,’ said Sadler.

  ‘It is good for the king to be seen with the Lady Anne,’ said Cromwell. ‘Is this not true?’

  ‘Your supposition is that if they are seen together often enough, the court will forget that the king still has a wife?’

  ‘Not so much that, Ralph. But that they will become accustomed to seeing her on the king’s arm. And soon forget Spanish influence at the English court.’

  Sadler nodded. ‘Is that the idea of His Grace the Cardinal?’

  ‘Wolsey encourages his assistants to do the groundwork for him. I am merely a paver.’

  ‘Our cardinal seems more of a furrier, seeking to wrap the king in comfort with his words, rather than his actions.’

  ‘The actions are left to me. And to you.’ Perhaps that was a reminder to the secretary not to speak so freely.

  I began casually picking at my nails with my knife. It was this little sound that soon awakened the notice of Cromwell. He turned and Sadler followed, about to open his mouth, when Cromwell laid his hand on his arm. ‘Master Somers. What keeps you nigh the king’s bedchamber?’

  ‘Oh, Thomas, I am always here, in some capacity or other.’

  Sadler gave his master a wide-eyed question, but Cromwell silently admonished him before he turned back to me. ‘It is obvious that you could not help but to hear our conversation.’

  ‘I heard. It matters little to me.’ I concentrated on my nails as I never had before. ‘I already reckoned what each of you did in court. It is up to me to discover this and make fun of it.’ I looked up with a grin.

  Sadler couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. ‘Is it quite proper for you to sit on the king’s bed?’

  ‘Very proper, Ralph. May I call you so?’

  ‘You may not.’

  ‘That’s not fair. Master Cromwell lets me call him so. Well, it is no matter.’ I sheathed my knife again. ‘I think the better question is, what are the two of you doing in the king’s bedchamber when he is not present?’

  Sadler flushed as red as Wolsey’s cloak. He looked to Cromwell to cobble that answer. Cromwell, as expected, offered a perfunctory smile. ‘We are here on the king’s business.’

  ‘Even when the king is not here?’

  ‘We are always on the king’s business.’

  ‘On the close stool, in the laundresses’s bed, playing dice … so many places to be at the king’s business where the king is not.’

  ‘Why you …’ Sadler began, but Cromwell merely shook his head at him.

  ‘Why berate the fool when he is in the midst of fooling? That is his business.’

  I nodded. ‘Indeed, it is.’

  ‘But now it is time for you to depart, Master Somers. For we cannot complete his business with a fool for an audience.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Thomas. There is no more perfect audience for you. I keep the king’s business always in my heart. And I would see not anything untoward as concerns it.’

  Cromwell never dropped his smile. He bowed slightly to me. ‘I concede it, Master Somers. Come, Sadler. Our business can be conducted anywhere. Even in the light of day.’

  ‘Let us hope so, my lords.’ I waved my hand regally as Henry would do to send away any low-ranked courtier.

  They left through the many opened doors and doorways, and I sat still for but a moment before scrambling back under the pillow, looking for that damned missive.

  The door opened again. Was this London Bridge, with all-comers doing their business here? I sat cross-legged once again, arms folded over my chest.

  Groomsmen moved in as one … until they saw me. ‘Will Somers,’ said one of them. ‘What are you doing here?’ One of the grooms retreated to the guard outside and questioned him.

  ‘Merely sitting here.’

  ‘He’s plotting some devilry,’ said another.

  I smiled back at him with a chuckle. ‘Of course.’

  They shook their heads and took away the plates and cups and crusts and other detritus, not touching the papers and other documents that might be strewn about. And then they shuffled out just as quickly as they came. I noticed no guard coming to fetch me, so he must have told them what to do with their worries.

  The door closed again and under the pillow I went. Perhaps under the other pillow? I dived there and … alleluia! My fingers closed over the missive, and no sooner had I pulled my head out than Thomas Giffard, Gentleman Usher in Ordinary, swanned in, no doubt sent to rush me forth.

  ‘What have you got there, Somers?’

  ‘This?’ I held up the missive. God knows how I kept my hand from shaking. ‘This is a bit of nonsense I was leaving for the king … but thought better of it. I left a better one on his writing table.’

  He strode toward said table, leaned over, and read. And then he laughed. ‘Gracious Christ, Somers. How your mind works.’

  I stuffed the missive in my doublet. ‘How indeed,’ I said as I slid off the bed. ‘Like the blacksmith at the forge, I must strike while the iron is hot or I forget it. God keep you, Master Giffard.’ And with that, I was able to escape the king’s bedchamber at last!

  I found a fire and tossed the paper in it, watching to make sure it was good and burnt to ash. And after, I wandered. And then I pondered if I should seek out Rodrigo and see if he was successful in his spying. Who had Gonzalo seen that day? And what had spurred that attack? Enemies abounded at court, but was he an enemy to his own countrymen for foiling plots they had laid? And what about that blackmail note to me? Was I still in danger? Cuds-me, of course I was. For the knave who threatened me and had killed Gonzalo was still at court, wasn’t he? And though he had not immediately gone after me, he still could at any time. What was he waiting for?

  The face of Jane Perwick rose up in my mind. She wanted to know how close I was to the king. Didn’t all know that I was? And then the unpleasant visage of Father Kendrick rose up too. He was a scheming whoreson if ever there was one. Would he hesitate to use this information against me? It didn’t seem likely … and yet. When a man finds a groat, does he spend it all at once or does he wait for the best opportunity to make the most of his windfall? I did not know enough about Kendrick. He might bide his time. But … would he – a priest – kill a man such as Gonzalo?

  I leaned against a wall and absently glanced out the window, at the sun shimmering on the grass and gleaming the gold of the foliage around it. Now, Cromwell would not kill a man with his own hands. He was not such a one as that. He would plot and make certain that the man was killed but by other, more devious means. That was the sort of man he was. Never sully his own hands yet make certain the job was done.

  Cromwell wasn’t my man, this I knew. But Kendrick … or Lady Jane …

  I needed to clear my head so I returned to my rooms to fetch Nosewise and we made our way outside to the gardens.

  It was a pleasant evening. I wished I had someone by my side to enjoy it besides a dog. Marion or Rodrigo or … Gonzalo. But that could never be again. And besides, he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a fool. Oh. Caught dead. But that was precisely what caught him dead … No, no! I refused to entertain the idea that it was my fault. They wouldn’t have killed him for that. They would have taken greater pleasure in publicly accusing him and making him suffer. That was the way of the coward. Or the one who himself felt the stirrings in his cod for his fellow man. Dissemblers were the worst … and the most desperate of lovers.