Chantress Fury - Amy Butler Greenfield Page 0,4

worries about schedules, protocol, and security. This morning, with the help of Captain Knollys and my men, I had searched the Parliamentary rooms at Westminster Palace for potential threats. In the afternoon I’d gone up and down the river for a series of meetings with the King and some of his chief supporters. Now I was returning to Whitehall Palace, the main royal residence, after which the King would proceed to Greenwich for a supper engagement with the Lord High Admiral.

I knew there would be more matters for me to attend to once I was back at Whitehall. There always were. And we still had a week to go before Parliament opened. Was it really so much to ask, to have a brief moment of peace here on the Thames?

One look at the King’s conscientious face, and I knew the answer. Henry never rested, so how could I? After all, this was what I had signed up for a year and a half ago, when he’d asked for my help in governing the kingdom.

“Let’s see.” Henry paged through the papers. “Here’s a letter from the Earl of Staffordshire, who enthusiastically supports our Parliamentary reforms.”

“Enthusiastically?” I reached for the letter in surprise. “Are you sure?”

The King grinned. “It seems your visit was most persuasive. He says quite complimentary things about you.”

I raised my eyebrows as I scanned the florid words. “He did not say them at the time. Indeed, I had the distinct impression that he was horrified to see me.” And no wonder, for I’d made that visit shortly after bringing down Charlton Castle.

The King flipped to the next document. “Viscount Hatton writes in a similar vein.” He turned a few more pages. “Oh.”

“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?”

“No, no. It’s just a note from Sybil.” He smiled as he pored over it, though there was a slightly worried look in his eyes. “Er . . . a private note.”

I was surprised by the worry, but not by the smile. He and Sybil were a wonderful match—the King so steady, and Sybil so lighthearted, and each of them adoring the other. It made me happy to think of them together. Yet I felt wistful, too. Twenty months had passed—twenty months and two days—since I had last seen Nat. And what a painful parting it had been . . .

Don’t think about it, I told myself for the ten thousandth time.

After all, there was no chance our paths would cross anytime soon. Although Nat was often at Court, he’d departed for the Continent two weeks ago, just before I’d arrived at Whitehall. Certain delicate negotiations were said to require his presence in Paris and Amsterdam, and he would have to miss the opening. I didn’t know if this was true, but I had been relieved to hear it, for if Nat had planned to be at the opening, I would’ve had to find some excuse to miss it myself. Those were the rules. And I was grateful to be spared such difficulties. Nothing could take away the pain of our separation, but at least this way I didn’t have to deal with the additional humiliation of rearranging my plans, while everyone at Court gossiped about my leaving and speculated as to why.

Don’t think about it. . . .

“There.” The King was rifling through the papers again. “I think that’s everything of note.”

We were nearing Whitehall Palace. Already the oarsmen were slowing, the better to maneuver themselves close to the ornate landing.

“There should be more dispatches waiting for us in the State Rooms,” the King said. “And if there are any ambassadors waiting to see me, perhaps you could have a quick word with them in my absence?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

With great precision and a little splashing, the oarsmen brought the barge toward the landing. It was tricky work, as they had to take care that the barge’s gilded frieze of growling lions didn’t scrape against the pilings. I heard an impish note in the river’s music and made sure I had a good hold on my seat. If we bobbled about, I didn’t want to go flying.

“And there are some more papers on my desk you may wish to see,” the King said. “One is from Walbrook.”

From Nat? My fingers tightened on the seat.

“He’s found a way to get the seeds we need much sooner than he expected,” the King went on. “He’ll be back for the opening of Parliament after all.”

Nat? Here? My heart slammed into my shoes.

It was an effort

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