Keeper of the King’s Secrets by Michelle Diener

Keeper of the King’s Secrets by Michelle Diener

Author:Michelle Diener [Diener, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2012-04-02T22:00:00+00:00


22

But a man is not often found sufficiently circumspect to know how to accommodate himself to the change, both because he cannot deviate from what nature inclines him to do, and also because, having always prospered by acting in one way, he cannot be persuaded that it is well to leave it; and, therefore, the cautious man, when it is time to turn adventurous, does not know how to do it, hence he is ruined.

—Machiavelli, The Prince, chapter 25

Parker watched the Comte’s house from a small stand of trees, wondering if Susanna was right.

He could have called on any number of men to help him. But so often, the problems he dealt with could not become well-known. And none of those men, not even the best, were trustworthy with a bottle of wine down their gullet and a bit of music playing in the room.

If this didn’t go to plan, if the Mirror had been stolen and there was no way to get it back—far, far better that no one knew of it, no one could talk of it, than that it become common knowledge.

With the sting of gossip lashing at him, the King would not hesitate to go to war. As long as only a few knew of it and kept it that way, that possibility was lessended.

Norfolk and Wyatt were the problems.

Parker shifted his position, suddenly uncomfortable, as if there were eyes on him, and turned to look behind him. There was nothing but the dance of branches in the wind and the growing shadows of dusk. He turned his attention to the mansion again.

He’d been caught by surprise by Wyatt gossiping to the Boleyns and their circle. At least he hadn’t told them everything. And at least Bryan and Carew were truly loyal to the King.

They would not say anything if he explained the stakes, but Thomas Boleyn … Boleyn was like a rat crouched under a kitchen cupboard, quivering with readiness for every morsel he could take for himself. He would use this to his greatest benefit, no matter the cost to others.

A light flickered to life in the hallway, shining through the small glasswork decoration above the door, and a tingle ran down Parker’s back. The Comte was getting ready to leave.

He heard the sound of horse hooves, and as he had done the night before, a stable boy led two horses around the side of the house to the front steps.

One of the big double doors swung open and the Comte stepped out, a thick cloak about his shoulders.

Parker knew where he was going—he had named the place of the meeting himself—but he wanted to know who the Comte was bringing with him.

If he could still function, he suspected the assassin could, too.

The doors remained open while the Comte swung himself up into the saddle. He turned his head, sharp and impatient, and another figure stepped out.

There was a stiffness to him. He did not move with the fluid grace of before, but it was the same man.



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