The Boleyn Deceit Read Online Free PDF

representing a family that would listen to a foreign pope over our own king,” asserted Northumberland. “A pope who insists that the throne belongs to Mary Tudor and our king is naught but a bastard.”
    The room went very still. Cranmer and Burghley shared a look that united the old cleric and the younger councilor in shared disapproval of such folly. William felt his stomach roil; though he knew it was said of him elsewhere, he should not have to listen to such words in his own council chamber. “That’senough,” he said sharply. “I will judge a man by word and action, not by gossip. And certainly I will not rule out of fear. My uncle has doubts. That is sufficient for me to be cautious.”
    Already a plan was forming, not yet more than a thought and a sense that it would be unexpected and thus fun. As well as useful. He kept the possibility in the back of his mind and dealt with the immediate issue.
    “Lord Exeter.” He always addressed Dominic in formal terms when he was about to make a political point. “Visit Surrey in the Tower. Not just yet, though—leave it for a month or so. We will let him sit awhile and ponder the error of his family’s ways. I will keep the interrogators away from him until then. When you go, speak to his guards, speak to his servants, and speak to the inquisitors.”
    He dared Rochford to protest, but his uncle seemed, if anything, approving. Hard to tell behind that masklike face. Sometimes William wished Rochford was as openly violent in his feelings as Northumberland.
    “What is my brief?” Dominic asked. “Guilt or innocence?”
    “Fact,” William said. “Did Surrey have any knowledge of his grandfather’s plot with the Spanish? If you are satisfied that he did not, then it will be time to speak of recompense.”
    Dominic was visibly glad, and William basked in that moment of approval. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
    “That is all.” William waved them away, all except Dominic.
    When the door was closed on just the two of them, William stretched out his legs and sighed. “Tell me true, Dom, do you think Surrey knew of his grandfather’s plans?”
    “No.”
    “That’s an awfully quick answer when you haven’t even spoken to the man yet.”
    “I’ve read the interview transcripts. He’s been racked—did you know that?”
    Gentlemen were mostly spared torture, but Rochford had insisted. It did make Surrey’s denials more plausible. William ignored the underlying disapproval in Dominic’s question. “We all know how stubborn the Howards can be, particularly when their lives are at stake.”
    “Surrey wasn’t at Framlingham during the Lady Mary’s residence. He had come nowhere near East Anglia for eight months. You appointed him to the northern marches and, except for the time he spent in Paris at your command, there he stayed—where, by the way, he has been remarkably effective on the border. He has ever served well and faithfully, with not a hint of his father’s radical Catholicism. I daresay I’ve never heard the man express a religious opinion before now.”
    “He’ll have to if I let him live. The Catholics will force it of him. He’ll have to come down on one side or the other.”
    “Will he?”
    “What does that mean?”
    Dominic shrugged, but the tension in his eyes belied his attempt at being casual. “As long as we force men to hold a religious opinion to the exclusion of all else in their life, England will remain unbalanced, liable to be tipped at any providential moment from one side to the other.”
    “You think I would return this country to Rome?”
    “Never. Which is why you will always be a target for those who would.”
    “Then little has changed. Don’t worry about me, Dom. I’m young, I’m handsome, I’ve beaten the French, and I’m engaged to a Catholic princess. I’d say we’re fairly balanced just now.”
    Dominic shifted restlessly in his chair, but he would not standuntil William gave him permission. “If you’re