as well.
“What is it?” Susanna heard the Queen’s voice from within, and Gertrude spun back, half-closing the door on them.
She glanced at Parker as the sound of murmured conversation filtered through, but he was studying the ladies in the room, sizing each of them up, as if he could somehow identify Wolsey’s spy by the look of them.
Some were disconcerted by his open examination, some ignored it. None failed to notice it.
“The Queen feels well enough to join you.” Gertrude swung the door open, and moved aside as Katherine stepped into the room.
Susanna curtsied low and Parker stepped up beside her and bowed.
“Let us sit and take some refreshment.” Katherine made for the hearth, were a small fire warmed the room, and the ladies sitting there stood and moved away.
The Queen sank down into the largest chair, and Susanna thought she looked pale and tired. She waved Susanna to a seat, and Parker took up a position beside it, his eyes never resting.
“You wished an audience with me?” Katherine’s eyes held fear and worry.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Susanna clenched her fists in her lap, gripped by a wave of frustration. Would that she could speak freely.
It was not to be.
She reached for her satchel, which Parker had placed beside her chair, and lifted out a small oak panel, no bigger than the length of her hand, wrapped in linen. She stood, took a step towards the Queen and then knelt before her, holding out the painting as if offering a sacred gift.
The Queen caught her breath. She took the wrapped bundle with both hands, and laid it on her lap.
She lifted the linen wrapping with care, and sat still, looking down at the painting of her daughter for a long moment.
“You have caught her.” Her words came out in a whisper. “You have taken her very essence and caught her. I shall have it near me, always.” When Katherine raised her head, tears tracked down her sallow cheeks. She looked old, suddenly—tired and sad.
A faint murmur rose up and spun like a breeze-blown leaf around the room.
A few of the Queen’s more intimate friends pushed forward a little, necks craning.
The Queen held the picture up, as if it were a baby to be admired, and her ladies cooed.
Behind her, Susanna sensed Parker stiffen and as she turned to him, he strode to the door, his hand to his sword.
He opened the door, and outside, the two guards standing watch were also more alert. Knuckles gripped tighter on their halberds.
She stood. All around her, the room went quiet, and finally they heard what had disturbed Parker and the guards. The sound of marching feet, ringing on the stone floor.
As suddenly as it was quiet, the level of noise in the room rose as the women exclaimed to themselves and pushed forward a little way to the door.
Susanna looked back at the Queen. She sat still, her eyes on the door, a deep dread on her face.
Did Katherine think they came for her? Were relations between herself and the King so bad?
Shock doused her, icy and harsh, making the hair stand up on her arms and the back of her neck. She looked about the room, but all eyes were on the door, and then, taking a deep breath, she bent to pick up her satchel. Stepped right beside the Queen.
“They come for me.”
The Queen’s head snapped up at her whisper.
“Someone wishes to stop me giving you a message from Margaret—”
“State your business with the Queen.” Parker’s voice rang out, loud and unwavering, and the advancing footsteps faltered.
Susanna looked towards him, and saw his sword was drawn. All thoughts of Margaret, of everything else vanished. He would get himself killed for her. For her brother and her father’s stupidity.
She moved towards him, and was tugged back, the grip on her arm surprisingly strong.
“What is the message?” The Queen’s eyes were desperate.
She wanted to shrug the hand off, but it came to her in a sudden flash, she would need all the help she could get, in the days to come.
She looked
“What is it?” Susanna heard the Queen’s voice from within, and Gertrude spun back, half-closing the door on them.
She glanced at Parker as the sound of murmured conversation filtered through, but he was studying the ladies in the room, sizing each of them up, as if he could somehow identify Wolsey’s spy by the look of them.
Some were disconcerted by his open examination, some ignored it. None failed to notice it.
“The Queen feels well enough to join you.” Gertrude swung the door open, and moved aside as Katherine stepped into the room.
Susanna curtsied low and Parker stepped up beside her and bowed.
“Let us sit and take some refreshment.” Katherine made for the hearth, were a small fire warmed the room, and the ladies sitting there stood and moved away.
The Queen sank down into the largest chair, and Susanna thought she looked pale and tired. She waved Susanna to a seat, and Parker took up a position beside it, his eyes never resting.
“You wished an audience with me?” Katherine’s eyes held fear and worry.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Susanna clenched her fists in her lap, gripped by a wave of frustration. Would that she could speak freely.
It was not to be.
She reached for her satchel, which Parker had placed beside her chair, and lifted out a small oak panel, no bigger than the length of her hand, wrapped in linen. She stood, took a step towards the Queen and then knelt before her, holding out the painting as if offering a sacred gift.
The Queen caught her breath. She took the wrapped bundle with both hands, and laid it on her lap.
She lifted the linen wrapping with care, and sat still, looking down at the painting of her daughter for a long moment.
“You have caught her.” Her words came out in a whisper. “You have taken her very essence and caught her. I shall have it near me, always.” When Katherine raised her head, tears tracked down her sallow cheeks. She looked old, suddenly—tired and sad.
A faint murmur rose up and spun like a breeze-blown leaf around the room.
A few of the Queen’s more intimate friends pushed forward a little, necks craning.
The Queen held the picture up, as if it were a baby to be admired, and her ladies cooed.
Behind her, Susanna sensed Parker stiffen and as she turned to him, he strode to the door, his hand to his sword.
He opened the door, and outside, the two guards standing watch were also more alert. Knuckles gripped tighter on their halberds.
She stood. All around her, the room went quiet, and finally they heard what had disturbed Parker and the guards. The sound of marching feet, ringing on the stone floor.
As suddenly as it was quiet, the level of noise in the room rose as the women exclaimed to themselves and pushed forward a little way to the door.
Susanna looked back at the Queen. She sat still, her eyes on the door, a deep dread on her face.
Did Katherine think they came for her? Were relations between herself and the King so bad?
Shock doused her, icy and harsh, making the hair stand up on her arms and the back of her neck. She looked about the room, but all eyes were on the door, and then, taking a deep breath, she bent to pick up her satchel. Stepped right beside the Queen.
“They come for me.”
The Queen’s head snapped up at her whisper.
“Someone wishes to stop me giving you a message from Margaret—”
“State your business with the Queen.” Parker’s voice rang out, loud and unwavering, and the advancing footsteps faltered.
Susanna looked towards him, and saw his sword was drawn. All thoughts of Margaret, of everything else vanished. He would get himself killed for her. For her brother and her father’s stupidity.
She moved towards him, and was tugged back, the grip on her arm surprisingly strong.
“What is the message?” The Queen’s eyes were desperate.
She wanted to shrug the hand off, but it came to her in a sudden flash, she would need all the help she could get, in the days to come.
She looked
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