‘Alas. What was he doing all day Tuesday? The day of his … well. Surely not work.’

  ‘Don Gonzalo de Yscar was diligent and always at his work.’

  ‘What was his work?’

  He narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘I do not discuss it.’

  ‘Of course not. Forgive me. I am naturally a curious fellow. I merely wondered if he had vexed anyone, angered them, irritated.’

  ‘I don’t know, because I don’t know his work, but there was a … a woman.’

  ‘Ah! There is always a woman.’ I don’t know why I was surprised. Perhaps we are all cony-catchers in the end.

  ‘Sí. And she is very saddened.’

  ‘A Spanish lady or English?’

  ‘You ask many questions … for a fool.’

  ‘A man who asks no questions is more a fool than me. But as I said, I am a curious fellow.’

  ‘So you are. I thought I saw you talking to Don Gonzalo Monday night at King Henry’s entertainments.’

  My heart stuttered, shattering its well-worn pattern. I looked this man over, this boy. Was it him? Could he have killed Gonzalo in such a vile way and threatened me? I donned my mask of a smile. I don’t know how I kept my hands from trembling. ‘He asked me about a song I played earlier. Perhaps he wanted to play it for this lady you spoke of.’

  That seemed to satisfy him. ‘The lady is Ursula Marbury.’

  ‘Oh? English then. I don’t wish to grieve her, but I would like to give my personal condolences. And perhaps play the tune for her that Don Gonzalo would have played.’

  ‘Whatever contents you, sir.’

  ‘But where can I find such a worthy?’

  His nose twitched just that much. ‘In the Lady Anne’s household.’

  FOUR

  Aye, marry. Just the place I did not wish to go. To the Bullens. God mend me.

  I wandered about in the Spanish men’s lodgings, poking here and there, before I was tossed out by a large man who spoke no English, though his expression translated well.

  I wondered about my seeking justice for Gonzalo … and myself. Would the king’s coroner investigate as diligently? Would they be speaking to this lady as well? Was I on the right path at all? Well, at the moment, it was the only path I knew.

  The watching chamber door was closed and, just as I got to it, thinking what to do, that young musician Mark Smeaton pushed it open from the inside. When he nearly ran into me the startled look on his face was almost comical.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he said none-too-politely.

  ‘Why not here?’ I answered, as glib as a be-belled man could be.

  He didn’t bother stopping. He merely pressed his own lute close to his body as he glared at mine. ‘They want no music here,’ he muttered, and it was then I could hear shouting. A woman. And I suspected who, as Smeaton cringed and hurried away.

  I caught the door before it closed and slipped inside, past the dining chamber and into the withdrawing room. It was likely Lady Nan having her usual cat-fit.

  Her rooms – every one of them – were resplendent, almost as those of the king. Walls of wood paneling, tapestries, tables, coffers, chairs with embroidered cushions, wide fireplaces, large windows, delicate side tables, and chandlers with plenty of candles not yet lit until the evening, for the windows flooded the chamber with light and the room was big enough to accommodate the many maids of honor and ladies-in-waiting. Blind me, she had more than the queen ever did.

  Ladies were seated all around her as she paced, hands fisted. She wore long ruffles with black embroidery at her wrists that led to a rumor that she had six fingers on each hand, the more to do her grasping, so they said. This wasn’t true. About the number of fingers, that is. As for the grasping, well. Lady Nan was a fisher of men. But only the biggest fish. Her sister Mary had given it up to Henry, but Lady Nan was much more calculating than that. She had a commodity to bargain with and would not trade it until the final sale was struck. And would it be? Though I didn’t believe it at first, I have since come to the conclusion – given the whispering and nodding of Cardinal Wolsey and scholar Cranmer and the other lickspittles who want to keep in the good graces of the king without a care to what the Holy Scriptures say – that Henry will have his way.

  Oh, I used to be a son of the Church, like any other lad. I knew of this priest or that whose indulgence could be bought, or which village maiden they were swiving at the time, but I never knew, until coming to court, how bishops and cardinals could be so swayed by a little power or gold or both. It has made me a cynic in my religion. How even Henry, once touted as ‘Defender of the Faith’ by Pope Leo X, could twist the words of Scripture to his will.

  I knew not whether it was lawyers, Wolsey, or Henry himself who had come to it, but Henry insisted that God was punishing him for marrying his brother’s widow. He had got a dispensation from the pope, right enough. In time to wed her, but he reasoned it must have been invalid somehow, because Catherine could not have been a virgin as she had avowed. And this was why Henry could not beget sons, or so he thought. He twisted the Scriptures. He claimed Leviticus said: ‘Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing … they shall be childless.’ Now, my Latin isn’t as good as Henry’s, but he insisted that ‘Liberis’ – ‘children’ – was mistranslated from the Greek and should have read ‘Filiis’ – ‘sons’. That seems to be very thin parchment to me. Especially if you ask his bastard Henry Fitzroy. But … I am not a learned man like a cardinal or a lawyer. Just a simple fool.

  Did Henry truly believe it? I think in the repeating, he does now. It’s more’s the pity for his immortal soul. Oh, Henry. How the devil can I ever help you?

  Scanning the withdrawing room, I thought I knew most of the ladies who served the Lady Nan. There were the maids of honor, those who were unmarried, and the ladies-in-waiting – those who were married, noble ladies all who served at court. There was Anne Gainsford and Mary Zouche. Bess Holland, Margery Horsman, Nan Cobham, Jane Perwick … and many more. Such a garden of beauties. And several more sitting farther away from that inner circle whom I didn’t know. Perhaps one of these was this Lady Ursula that I sought.

  Nan was ranting about … well. Who else? And how slow these councillors were and these clerics and why did it have to take so long and God’s death, what the devil was Will Somers doing here … Oh!

  I found myself the center of attention. Again. Not in a way I preferred, for when I called attention to myself, it was to make sport and I was king. But now, I’d rather have been an invisible servant.

  Nevertheless, I postured. I stuck my foot forward beauteously, and bowed most eloquently. ‘My lady,’ I said.

  ‘Get out,’ she spat.

  ‘But my dear, dear Lady Nan …’

  ‘I said get out!’

  Some of the ladies rose. I was certain they could jostle me out through the door as a gaggle of geese surrounded a fox. I took a step back and pleaded again. ‘My dearest Lady Nan. I am not here to make sport.’

  ‘Are you not, sirrah? For I have had my fill of your sour wine.’

  ‘Never, lady.’

  ‘Ha! You lie.’

  ‘I would not lie with you, my lady, for that place is for another.’

  Some of the ladies covered their mouths and tried to look as if they had not tittered behind their fingers. Suddenly, as Lady Nan swept her scowl over them, their embroidery was the most fascinating thing in the world.

  ‘Jackanape!’

  ‘I beg your mercy, my lady. It’s a slip of the tongue. I slip my tongue most when in the intimate company of ladies.’ I took in all their faces. Some laughed outright this time.

  ‘But I digress. I am here to deliver a message.’

  She turned her glare back on me, raising her chin and staring down her nose. ‘A message?’

  ‘Oh yes. A message.’

  ‘Well? From whom?’

  I again glanced deliberately over the many faces looking back at me. ‘From … a personage who wishes to remain anonymous. In company.’

  She put a hand to her bodice, directly below the neckline. A brooch hung there, encrusted with pearls and given to her by Henry. ‘You wish to convey this message in private?’

  ‘It would be most convenient that way, lady.’

  Since everyone knew I’d only deliver a message from the king, there was a thickened air of expectation in the room.

  And surely the expectation was greatest in me, for I had no idea what message I was going to concoct to give to her.

  She took a deep breath, bosom heaving over the tight bodice. She said nothing, only flicked her head like a brood mare. It meant for me to follow.

  I dogged her steps into her dining chamber and closed the door after me when she stopped in the middle of the room. She touched the brooch again before settling her hands in front of her, decidedly five fingers over the other five.

  It occurred to me suddenly that I could ease my poor queen’s soul by committing murder. I was alone with the Lady Nan. I could do it. Me and my little dagger, I could. But what of Will Somers then? I’d be drawn and quartered, my ugly head on a pike on London Bridge, that’s what. And it wouldn’t do Queen Catherine any good when – in the end – Henry would simply find another wife. But worst of all would be the look of betrayal on my king’s face. He trusted me. With all his intimacies. He trusted me, and damn me but I could not break that trust.

  And I couldn’t even blame Henry for his lust. Anne Boleyn was dark-haired and small with a mysterious and seductive look to her eyes. She had a secret smile she shared with few and a full-bodied laugh when entertained. A fiery spirit, one would say, and a woman who was not so great a beauty but an intriguing one. She would be a fine match to any man who enjoyed a good fight. She was the opposite in almost every way from our lady queen. I wonder if that’s what intrigued Henry the most.

  That and her youth.

  ‘Well?’ she said again, impatiently. ‘What is the message?’

  Yes, Will, what IS the message? Think!

  Like an angel’s kiss, a thought occurred. I reached into my doublet and pulled out an old, discarded kerchief from Henry. He’d given it to me some time ago. It was stained and worn, but still had the embroidered aitch on it, with crown and rose. It was even stained with my sweat, and all the better.

  ‘My lady,’ I said, brandishing the cloth, allowing her to see the aitch on the corner of it. ‘The admirer who does not wish to say his name has told me to bring this old and discarded token to you. You see, it is well used, well worn. But it has his tears upon it, for he weeps that he cannot be with you.’

  I held it out but not at arm’s length. Close enough that she would have to approach to take it.

  Yet, she hesitated.

  ‘Why should I want an old kerchief?’

  ‘The personage from whom this kerchief came wanted you to think of him as ragged and lost … without you.’

  Ah, that hit the mark. Her face, so taut with frustration, suddenly softened.

  ‘This is what he said?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my lady.’ And may God forgive me for my lies. ‘He wanted that you should have it …’ But as she reached for it, I snatched it back. ‘And yet, he feared to give it to you, this old, stained token, sensing that you would think ill of him for it, perhaps misinterpreting the sort of message it told.’

  She drew her hand back and frowned, but only slightly. ‘No gift from this … personage … would ever make me think so.’

  ‘Ah, that’s what I told him.’

  More hesitantly and like a child, she said, ‘You did?’

  In that instant I saw her for what she truly was: a young woman cast into the raging sea of politics, perhaps thrown in by her father, her sister-in-law Lady Rochford, and the many, many voices of men who would use a woman for their own power. Was Lady Nan as much of a shrew as we sometimes saw her at court? Or just a pawn on another man’s chessboard?

  The moment was fleeting. She raised her chin again and looked down her nose at me, the mask of innocence falling away.

  I bowed slightly. ‘I did.’ When I straightened, I gave her as sincere a face as I could muster. ‘I am not your enemy, lady. But I am the king’s mastiff.’

  ‘Mastiff? Ah, yes. I see. You may not carry a pike but your tongue is just as deadly.’

  I nodded. ‘You do see, then.’

  ‘It appears I’m more fool than you are, Will Somers. Thinking there was only the jester in you.’ She held out her hand downward, but not to take the kerchief.

  I stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. For the first time, she smiled at me.

  ‘This doesn’t mean I won’t continue my japes.’

  She laughed. ‘I know you will. It’s to please the king.’

  Dear, dear. Was I beginning to like Lady Nan?

  I bowed again, and handed her the kerchief. She took it, sniffed it, and tucked it into a slash of her sleeve. ‘Very well, Somers. You may go.’

  ‘There is one thing more, my sweet lady. I wish to talk with Lady Ursula Marbury. Is she there amongst your ladies?’

  ‘Why should you want to talk to her?’

  ‘I have a message for her, too. Oh, not from this unnamed personage, but from another. Today, I am a herald, delivering all my messages abroad. Will you direct me?’

  ‘Since we are friends now, I see no reason not to.’ She moved to the door, opened it, and called softly, ‘Lady Ursula.’

  A dark-haired woman, with a heart-shaped face and large dark eyes, turned and rose. She came towards Lady Nan and curtseyed.

  ‘Somers has a message for you.’

  I bowed again to Lady Nan, who dismissed me by turning away, and holding Henry’s discarded kerchief to her cheek.

  I closed the door to the dining chamber behind me and faced Lady Ursula, who was looking at me expectantly. I gently took her arm and directed her to the farthest corner of the withdrawing room, and even though they strained their ears, I did not think the others would be able to hear our soft discourse.

  ‘Lady Ursula, allow me to extend my condolences for the death of Don Gonzalo.’

  She was clearly shocked at the mention of his name and gasped. Her eyes filled with tears and she stifled a sob. I put my arm around her to console, but mostly to conceal our conversation. ‘Please, lady. Can you tell me if he had any enemies? What did he do all day, the day he died?’

  She sniffled into her own kerchief she kept up her sleeve and dabbed at her nose. ‘Why should you want to know?’

  ‘Because it was I who found him. And … because he was kind to me.’

  ‘Aye,’ she said softly between sniffles. ‘He was that. He had few enemies that I could tell. But like all the Spanish in their company, they were angered at the king.’

  ‘Because of the … Great Matter?’

  She glanced back at the others. ‘Yes. But unlike the others, he hid his posturing. To all the court, he appeared neutral on the subject. I know that caused resistance amongst his fellows.’

  ‘Was he neutral?’

  She shook her head. ‘I do not know. He wanted always what was best for Spain. But he was coming to like England.’

  I smiled congenially. ‘Because of someone in England, I think.’ I chucked her chin.

  She blushed and looked down. Helen of Troy likely had such a look to send armies to war. I felt a twitch in my own cod at the sweet look of her. I wondered if Gonzalo had loved her. If he were like me. Or was he like so many others I encountered, and simply did his duty to wives and lovers so that no one would suspect?

  ‘Did you know of any argument that day? Any conflict with his fellows or those of the court?’

  ‘I know he had an argument with a cleric. I am not certain of his name, but he is English. They argued over the … the Great Matter.’ She only mouthed the last, considering the company we were keeping.

  ‘Against, I should think.’

  She said nothing, as any good lady of Anne Boleyn would.

  ‘But you say you do not know this priest?’

  ‘He is one of Wolsey’s company. He has a beard. Kendrick, I think, is the name.’

  ‘I see. Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Ursula?’

  ‘There is nothing,’ she said, lowering her head. She had a rosary of precious stones on her girdle and she clutched it. ‘There is nothing to be done now.’

  I bowed, leaving her in peace. I glanced at the others, who were trying hard to pretend not to be listening to us, and made my hasty exit.

  ‘Father Kendrick,’ I muttered as I moved through the passages, my lute slung over my shoulder. ‘How shall I find you?’

  I had to return to my chambers to feed and walk Nosewise, when I encountered Edward, the house servant. The one with whom I often frolicked in the bedclothes. He was a handsome devil. All dark-haired and dark-eyed. He immediately rushed up and slammed the door, caging me in his arms. ‘Will Somers, you rogue.’ He kissed me soundly and pressed me against the door. His kisses were always hard and bruising, possibly trying to prove something to me. I whipped my head away.

  ‘You make it hard to breathe, varlet.’

  ‘I want you to breathe only me.’

  ‘But the palace is full of so many …’

  He pushed away from the door, away from me, combing his fingers through his hair. I liked pulling that hair m’self. Especially when he was on his knees. ‘Why have you not sought me out?’ he complained.

  So that was it. Never had my time been so valuable. Had it been as much back in Shropshire, I never would have left it.

  ‘I can’t seek you out all the time, Edward. My time belongs to the king.’

  ‘And Marion.’

  ‘You mustn’t be jealous of Marion. I do love her.’

  ‘You told me as much.’

  ‘And I do. I love lots of people.’

  He flounced onto a stool with a whoosh of expressed breath. ‘Damn you, Will.’

  ‘Oh, so many wish to do so. You must get into the queue.’ I patted my chest and Nosewise jumped up into my arms as he was trained to do. I mussed the wiry hair on his pate.