The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [107]
“Do you truly believe that?” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I may have helped her stay one step ahead of the duke, but don’t think for an instant that she’s forgotten that I served the man. There’ll be no place for me at her court.” He sighed. “No matter. Country life suits me well enough, and it is time I got away from all this.”
“She’s banishing you?” I experienced keen disappointment. Cecil was not someone a wise monarch should disdain. If nothing else, his facility for spying made him an asset or a liability, depending on the circumstances.
“Not in so many words, but she knows I have no other choice. She’ll never trust any of those who served the duke or her brother. I should be grateful that unlike these others, I needn’t soil my hands by putting my former master in prison.”
And those hands, I noticed, had changed. The ink stains under the nails were faded, as if he had already started to slough away the skin of his prior role.
Cecil went on: “Had it gone differently, we’d have seen her to the same prison quick enough. To be banished is fortunate indeed, considering not a few heads will roll before this matter is concluded.”
His play for empathy was a mistake. I smiled. I had been wrong. She had not disdained him. She had seen through him. The time had come to cast my own die.
“But not your head. You made sure of that. No one knows the extent of your involvement.”
This time, I was pleased to see the skin about his mouth tighten.
“Unless you’ve been filling Mary’s ears with nonsense, yes,” he replied.
“I would never stoop so low. Difficult as it may be for you to imagine, Her Majesty is an innocent when it comes to men like you.”
“You shouldn’t let her air of virginal righteousness blind you. She’s an enemy to our faith, and her accession is a tragedy to those who’ve labored to bring greater glory to England.”
“To England?” I asked. “Or to Cecil? Or are they one and the same to you?”
“I assure you, I’ve sought only to serve Her Grace.”
Without warning, my anger resurged, virulent as fever. Lies and more lies—with him, they never stopped. No doubt, he would lie his way to his very grave.
No more. I would make him speak the truth, damn him to hell.
“Is that why you let her come to court?” I advanced on his chair. “Though you knew she risked her life? Is that why you failed to warn her away, because you sought to serve her?”
There was no mistaking the change in the air. He might have actually recoiled in his seat, had he the reflexes of a normal man, unused to guarding his reactions at every moment.
“You forget that I did advise her to leave,” he said, in a measured tone. “I warned her several times of the danger, but she did not listen.” Still, he didn’t move, did not rise in alarm, though I stood so close I could have stabbed him before he had time to cry out.
“You didn’t warn her,” I said. “You manipulated her. You manipulated her just as you manipulated me. You’ve been playing a game with all of us from the beginning.”
He smiled. Actually smiled. “And what, pray, did this game of mine entail?”
I had to step back, lest I went too far and didn’t stop until he lay in a bloodied sprawl at my feet. It had all become crystalline clear, the truth surfacing as if a cloth had been wiped across the tarnished glass of my mind.
Everything was more horribly real than I had imagined.
“To see Elizabeth made queen instead of her sister—that was your game. The duke’s time had run out. After years of watching him exercise control over Edward, you decided never would the likes of Northumberland and his clan rule again. When the time came, they would fall, all of them, no matter the cost. And they would take Mary with them.” I met his stare. “But something happened. Something you didn’t anticipate.”
“Is that so?” He folded his hands at his chin. “Do go on. I find this all … fascinating.”
“Jane Grey happened. You had no idea what the duke planned, did you, that night Elizabeth arrived at court? All you knew for certain was that the king was dying and Northumberland