The Queen's Captive by Barbara Kyle

Author:Barbara Kyle
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780758273796
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2010-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

17

The Plot

March 1556

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six weeks since my last confession.”

A busy six weeks, John Grenville thought as he said it. He leaned close to the bronze grill that separated him from Father Paxton in the confessional and tallied his gains. In those six weeks he had bought a lucrative manor in Cornwall with three very productive tin mines. Had concluded negotiations for a young niece’s marriage to a duke’s son, a brilliant step up for his family. And, most satisfying of all, had delivered Richard Thornleigh to the Tower. The day that murderer becomes gallows fruit, he thought, Father can rest in peace.

His confession was brief. His sins were few.

In five minutes he and the priest met outside the confessional. They were alone in the chapel, part of John’s family suite at Whitehall Palace, and John said pleasantly, “Father, I have been busy on your behalf. Bishop of Wealham. Does that appeal to you?”

The priest, who owed his living to the Grenvilles, beamed. “My lord, your generosity humbles me.”

“Nonsense, Father.” John made a graceful, courtier’s bow. “Your service to God humbles me.” He did not mention all the favors he had called in. He always followed his father’s rule of liberally funding friends in the church, and the churchmen now had come through with this appointment for his candidate. Paxton as bishop would be a fine ally amongst the other bishops in the House of Lords, and a strong voice for God in John’s community. Every ally was needed against the pernicious Protestant vermin.

“Will you sup with me in the city, my lord? A few of us have a table at Rimbaud’s tonight. Their roast venison is superb.”

“And Rimbaud’s stock of the best burgundy is vast,” John said with a knowing smile. “I thank you, Father, but I have an appointment in less than half an hour that I cannot shirk. In the meantime, I will pray.”

They parted, exchanging wishes of “Godspeed.”

John waited until the priest was gone. The chapel was quiet. It was a nasty night with icy rain, and most of the palace’s inhabitants were snugly sitting at supper before fires in their chambers. John stepped inside the priest’s side of the confessional and closed the curtain.

He didn’t have to wait long. Roper was always punctual. He slipped into the other side of the confessional and settled himself, catching his breath as though he had hurried. He leaned into the bronze grill, and John could smell wood smoke on the man’s clothes and brandy on his breath. His pockmarked face looked reddened from his walk. Or maybe from the brandy.

“The whole mess of them are at it tonight, my lord. A planning meeting at the printer’s shop.”

“Names.”

Roper rhymed them off. A few new ones, John was delighted to hear. He gloried in imagining the Queen’s gratitude. This could earn him an earldom. He asked for more details and Roper filled him in. Then he asked, “Has Dudley set a date?”

“Early May, that’s his wish.

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