Sub Rosa - Part One

Nov 25, 2012 04:49

Mercenary Brad Colbert returns to England after a mission to find the life he had left turned upside down. Young Nathaniel Fick is knighted and becomes a loyal aid to King Henry VIII. Brad is recruited to protect the Tudor Court after death threats become too heavy for the Court ignore. Even with all the pageantry and jousting and parties at Court, Brad and Nate still become ensnared in the inescapable politics involved in pleasing The King.


Prologue
London, England. 1529.

Explorer Sebastian Cabot’s ship docked in London Harbor on a bright afternoon. A light breeze tried to lift up the sails as they were lowered. The ship creaked as it rocked back and forth with the movement of the Thames. Sailors lowered themselves onto the row boats to paddle to shore. Shouts of jubilation mixed with grumbles of descent as seamen attempted to become land creatures again. The dock was crowded with people and cargo as ships were unloaded and people admired all of the fine textiles and foodstuffs brought from Spain, France and even Germany. The sailors tried to pay no mind as they waded through the crowds.

Once on the streets of London, Cabot’s sailors shook hands and went their separate ways. Many were sure they would see each other again on the next voyage, although rumors abounded that Cabot was going to be taking his ship to Spain since the King was not very intent on finding new worlds. Brad thought that was because King Henry was much more intent on bedding a particularly attractive woman, although he could never say that in public. Brad didn’t think that telling something to Ray counted as saying it in public.

He and Ray and Walt had been hired to act as the security for the ship, should anything go wrong. Like Ray liked to say, they had to make sure no one fucked up. Normally the three of them did much more intelligence gathering type work, but Cabot agreed to a hefty fee. Being commissioned by the King had its perks. Brad knew that he would soon need to head home to his estate to check on his affairs at home. He had been away for nearly three years. He also really wanted to take a bath and shave his beard, which had been quite itchy lately. But Ray slung his arm around Brad and Walt and offered to buy them a drink and Brad wasn’t one to refuse. Besides, his page had not yet arrived with his horse.

But that didn’t mean Brad had to be excited about being able to drink with Ray and Walt. Brad’s scowling face did nothing to dampen Ray’s mood.

“You know Iceman, I am surprised at your complete lack of excitement. I mean, really. In days of yore you would have been beside yourself to get back to your sweet Rose. Now you act as if it is just another day in London and you are just another yeoman ready to drink your draft and bend over for the King. What is up your ass?”

“Ray, I need you to close your mouth before someone gets hurt.”

To Ray’s credit he had thrown back a couple drafts already. To Brad’s credit he had spent a lot of time at sea with Ray as a constant presence at his side. And to Walt’s credit, he did give Ray a few warning looks.

“Brad, something is amiss when your best friend can’t even get you to relax after a three year long job. I’m just trying to clear the air, is all.”

“Careful, Ray. You throw around the phrase best friend like you mean it.” Brad smirked.

Walt rolled his eyes. “Can we ever just enjoy our drafts in peace?”

Ray tossed Walt a wink that Brad’s well trained eye unfortunately noticed before the three of them lifted their mugs in cheers.

Brad downed his draft, left his brothers in arms on their own, and headed for the door. Hopefully his page had arrived by now.

Once outside, the cool breeze from the Thames ruffled Brad’s long blond hair. He ran his hand through it, disgusted at its ridiculous length.

“Your grace!” A young boy came galloping up on a tall brown horse whose mane was tossing in the wind and whose eyes were blown wide, like the boy’s. They both projected a certain urgency that wasn’t lost on Brad.

The boy leapt from the sweaty horse and bowed swiftly.

“I just received word that you were back.” The boy removed his hat and nervously tugged at its brim. Sweat was dripping from his forehead.

“What has happened?”

Brad crossed his arms and waited. His young and eager page’s face was streaked with grime and it looked like he had been crying.

“The Lady Rose…,” he started, but his lip quivered.

Brad took his arm and guided him to lean against the horse.

“It’s ok, Trombley. Take a breath.”

Brad had been away so long, and his wife was left alone to tend the estate and all his sheep and horses. The stress surely must have gotten to her. And Brad had barely thought of her the entire trip. He knew, somehow, that whatever had happened was surely his fault.

The page’s stormy blue eyes stared into Brad’s. Brad knew he hoped to escape punishment for whatever great incident had happened.

“She’s remarried.”

Brad felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. For a moment he could find no words. This was not at all what he would have guessed. Brad felt anger well up inside him, white hot and ready to tangle with his guilt. He clenched his fists.

“How long ago?”

“Four months, your grace,” The page answered meekly, looking at his leather shoes.

Brad reigned himself in, decided to lock his heart away before the very blood running through his veins boiled over. He didn’t want to yell at Trombley or anyone else. That would not befit such a mercenary of his reputation.

With a curt “Thank you, Trombley,” Brad mounted his steed and galloped back home to clean up his mess.



Royal flags fluttered in the breeze from atop high stone towers. A dark chestnut horse pulling a cart with large thin wheels approached St. George’s Chapel. The cart was received by royal gatemen dressed in red and ushered into the courtyard. A man with blonde hair stepped out and immediately stuck out his hand to help down a woman whose flowing curls where tucked behind her ear. Both of them looked youthful and amazed as they gazed upon the splendor of the huge stone structures supporting the palace. Men dressed in the red royal uniform bustled around them, seemingly making preparations for the ceremony the couple had come to watch. This was the first time the couple had come to St. George’s Chapel, although it was not the first time they had been to London.

The woman’s cheeks glowed with pride. She was dressed in a deep sapphire kirtle and green skirt. Her sleeves were puffed and there were intricate patterns on her green skirt. Both were added to her sapphire kirtle especially for the occasion. The man held her arm as the pair of them walked through a dimly lit corridor to the guest chambers. A young page wearing the royal symbol followed them with a modest chest of clothes.

A young man, not more than 22, with sparkling blue eyes and a nervous smile greeted the couple.

“Oh, Nate,” The woman said, pulling him close for a hug after the door was closed. Hugging might not have been so appropriate had strangers been able to witness.

“I’m so glad you could come, Mother and Father,” Nate said as he bowed to his father. He shook his hand and Nate couldn’t help but notice how proud his father looked.

“I’m so glad your jerkin turned out well. You always looked good in dark blue. You look so handsome today, Nate.” Nate’s mother tugged appreciatively at the gold buttons adorning his jerkin and touched the sword that hung from his belt.

“We are wanted in the Chapel now, I am sure.” Nate’s father smiled at him and Nate beamed. The three of them walked through more corridors which Nate expertly navigated.

The Chapel was adorned with huge red banners. The fading light from the setting sun seeped in through the window and lit up The King’s gold-adorned chair. Nate walked his parents to the side of the room, next to the waiting flag bearers. A page hurried off to announce that the Ficks had arrived.

Nate straightened his jerkin and cleared his throat. He stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a few older Knights. Most were not well-known, but some he had spent time training with. He nodded at them. The Knights of the Garter all held large gold encrusted orbs and gold scepters. Their ornate robes rustled whenever they moved.

Nate smiled at his tutor; he was grateful for his presence. When he was a young boy of four, his father had chosen this man to teach Nate Latin, geography, literature, jousting, sword fighting; everything a boy who was destined to serve His Majesty should know. Nate’s parents taught him as a young student that he had to trust his tutor’s judgment and respect his orders, and they had designated Nate’s tutor as his Godfather. Nate had taken to calling the man Godfather early on. Godfather had traveled a long way to come to this ceremony. Nate had eaten supper with him earlier that day and knew that Godfather was proud, if not hoping to get a chance to talk to Nate still more about war and Court life.

A page scurried off to give word to The King that the guests had arrived. Shortly Cardinal Wolsey, The King’s chief adviser, entered the room along with his assistant Mr. Cromwell. Mr. Cromwell was dressed in a simple brown jerkin, which was a sharp contrast to Cardinal Wolsey’s long and bright red robes. The royal trumpet player signaled for everyone to bow, and King Henry VIII entered the room to take his thrown, his red robes trailing out behind him. He opened his arms in greeting as he took a seat.

“Nathaniel Fick! Even though you are one of the younger men I have knighted, but I’ve been assured of your outstanding skills and intelligence. I’ve been told you enjoy reading?” King Henry’s booming voice held everyone in rapt attention.

Nate put his head up to address The King, but he stayed on bended knee.

“Yes, your majesty. Both old and contemporary works,” Nate said while taking care not to look The King in the eye.

“Excellent, excellent. A fine writer too, I am aware. Mr. Cromwell?” Mr. Cromwell produced a large silver sword from its case and handed to The King.

Cromwell gestured for Nate to put up his right hand. “Nathaniel Fick, do you solemnly swear to serve The King with all of your heart with only God above him, forever?”

“I do.”

The King raised the sword, and touched the wide metal blade to Nate’s left shoulder. Nate concentrated on keeping his body from shaking. He took a deep breath and let The King’s words wash over him.

“As The King of England, before God and the Knights of the Garter, I knight you Sir Nathaniel Fick.”

The sword rested on Nate’s right shoulder for a brief moment before The King lifted the sword and motioned for Cromwell to return it to its sheath.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Nate looked The King in the eye when he said it.

Everyone applauded and The King smiled. One of the Knights of the Order placed a decorated white and red robe on Nate’s shoulders and he stood and walked out, his parents following close behind.

Outside, Knights of the Order were talking amongst each other. There was to be a meeting of the Order soon. Cardinal Wolsey and Mr. Cromwell were among the Knights, talking and smiling. Nate tried not to let his parents feel out of place as he introduced them to some of the men he knew.

Cardinal Wolsey approached and Nate bowed. “Ah, Nathaniel!” Cardinal Wolsey greeted him with a hand shake after Nate stood up. Nate had just recently arrived at Court and did not know him or Mr. Cromwell well, except that he knew they were both Privy Council to The King. He was surprised that Cardinal Wolsey was personally greeting him. Nate took it all in stride, however.

“These are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Fick.” Nate’s parents bowed in greeting.

“Your love of reading has inspired many at Court, Sir Nathaniel.” Cardinal Wolsey smiled. Nate recognized that smile as slightly patronizing. Cardinal Wolsey continued.

“I hear you even read Master Webster’s new works. His philosophies seem a bit… disingenuous.” Cardinal Wolsey baited Nate for a response. Nate knew that Master Webster’s work had begun to attract controversy, but he was a new writer that seemed to speak to Nate’s generation more than the old works of Latin scripture. Nate saw no harm in following his work.

“Yes, I have sampled some of his writing. But Master Webster does try to speak honestly and I do believe he means no harm.” Nate hoped that answer would satisfy the Cardinal.

“Very well then.” Cardinal Wolsey nodded and moved on, but he did not smile. Nate could see Mr. Cromwell out of the corner of his eye. He was just within ear shot and he seemed to be content just soaking up information.

Nate told himself he would do well to be wary of them both.



3 years later

Nolens volens
whether willing or not

Brad had finished tending to the sheep that morning and had gone through a sword fighting lesson with Trombley, his page. He had even tidied up his own kitchen with the cook, even though he really didn’t need to do that. He had never liked having servants clean his home for him. Now he was milling about, searching for another book to read or some piece of furniture to repair. He hated being idle; it only made him think of the past. He was currently in between jobs and he figured he would head into London as soon as meal time was over to see if he couldn’t find someone in need of a mercenary. As he paced in front of his front window, he heard hooves pounding up the dirt path and he watched as a rider dismounted gracefully in front of his estate. Brad waited for Trombley to lead the visitor to him in order to have more time to observe the man.

The mysterious rider was dressed in deep sapphire. His jerkin was stretched tight across his chest and Brad could see how fit he was. On his breast was the red crest of the Tudor house. His hat had a single feather to accent it, marking his high status. His bright and clever blue eyes glinted at Brad as he swept himself into a courteous bow. But the part of him that really drew Brad’s eye was the man’s full lips, just tinged with pink. His lips reminded Brad of a fair courtly lady, and when they tilted up into a smile Brad was enchanted. Brad shook himself. Clearly this man was sent by the King.

“Your Grace? You must be Bradley Colbert, the Iceman.” The rider looked pleased to meet him.

“I have been called that now and again, yes. And you are?” Brad did not keep the sarcasm from his voice, but he hoped the smile on his face showed that he meant no disrespect.

“Forgive me. I am Sir Nathaniel Fick.” Nate smirked for a moment, but then his facial expression changed to that of a typical court knight. His jaw was set, his mouth was in a firm line, and he looked fierce and proud with his shoulders squared. He began to unroll a scroll.

“Please tell me to what do I owe this pleasure,” Brad said.

“His Majesty the King is in need of a skilled mercenary to serve him at Court. The Lady Anne has received death threats, as has a few other members of his Court. The King is highly suspicious and wishes for you, a man of such high reputation, to come to Court immediately.” Nate promptly rolled the scroll back up and handed it to Brad with a flourish.

Brad bowed deeply and accepted the scroll.

“I shall serve my King well, as is my duty.”

“He will be pleased. I should add that he is also offering a hefty purse for your service.” Nate smiled briefly again, his eyes lingering on Brad’s for a little longer than entirely necessary. Then he turned and mounted his grey stallion.

“I shall see you at Court then, Sir,” Brad called to the mounted Knight.

“Indeed,” Nate answered with a nod before he cantered down the path.

“Well,” Brad began, turning to Trombley, “we have work to do. Send word to Person and Hasser. They will be willing to take over my estate in my absence.”

Trombley bounded off in the direction of the stables to prepare his horse. Brad smiled to himself. There was no post as noble or as exciting as serving the King.



Nate returned to Court and passed along word to His Majesty of Colbert’s impending arrival. Colbert’s high reputation preceded him, and Nate did not have any worries about him adjusting to his courtly duties. However, The King had reminded Nate that Colbert was to be in his care. Since Nate was so well versed in the whom-is-in-league-with-whom intricacies of King Henry VIII’s court, he would quickly be able to point out suspects and allies.

However, there was a Court party to make ready for and Nate did not have time to dwell. Lady Anne was to be named Marquesate of Pembroke and The King had ordered all of the finest linens to be laid out. 30 hogs had to be dressed and ready for the banquet, which meant the great hall needed to be prepped early so that the cooks could set the tables.

He made his way to the great hall, where his men were already busy laying tablecloths and putting up royal banners. Gunny caught Nate’s eye as he entered.

“How did it go, Sir?”

“He agreed. The King is pleased.” Nate avoided Gunny’s gaze as he spoke.

“What else?” Gunny inquired, pressing Nate when he noticed Nate’s demeanor. Nate was sure a blush was rising in his cheeks, but he decided to keep his observations of the mercenary with the reputation and the piercing blue eyes to himself.

Nate raised his eyebrow, usually the only outward sign of mischief Nate allowed himself.
“Just wait until you meet him.”

Gunny laughed as Christeson and Stafford called across the hall, “Sir? Does this banner look straight?”

“Aye!” Nate called back. He rolled his eyes. These mere trifles always slightly annoyed him. He would rather be recommending a policy initiative to The King’s cabinet or discussing ways to better prepare the Royal Navy for battle. But The King’s happiness was paramount, and dazzling parties were one of the surest ways to lighten The King’s mood.



Upon his sure footed steed’s back, Brad had never felt freer. He had finally cut his hair, and the wind whistled past his ears and blocked out all other sounds. He was wearing his finest crimson so that he would be received at Court wearing his best attire, but he didn’t think about that as he splashed through mud puddles and tore around trees. He had seen the strife that had struck London and many other parts of England once he had returned. It was like he had come back to a whole new country. There was discontent and struggle because the churches and the people themselves feared what could happen to the Catholic Church and England itself if The Vatican’s wishes were not respected by King Henry. It seemed the only mercenary work available these days was hunting down heretics or protecting church relics, neither of which truly appealed to Brad.

Luckily for him, Sir Fick had come along when he ddid. Not soon after, Brad was implored by stewards of Sir Thomas More to join the Catholic cause. It was funny how quickly one’s reputation got around. In any other circumstances, to refuse would have been like placing a target on his back. Brad didn’t like getting involved in religious matters. But if he placed himself even closer to the lion’s den, it might be discovered that he was raised Jewish. No man of Sir Thomas More’s would have allowed that to go unpunished.

But as it were, Brad could have a moment of abandon as he made his way to Court. He knew that once there he would have to be on his best behavior, whatever that looked like. Brad hadn’t had to behave for company in quite some time. After Lady Rose, he had not really entertained anyone and preferred being alone. Sometimes Ray and Walt would drag him out for a drink or three, but they would rarely traverse an establishment fine enough for royalty.

As he approached the castle, he slowed his stallion and produced his royal scroll. The guards waved him in and a page came to collect his horse. Brad tried to straighten out his clothes but realized that there was entirely too much mud on his boots. He followed the directions of the Royal guards, but before entering the great hall he ducked into a corridor to try and knock the mud off his boots.

He kicked against the stone wall just as someone appeared from the shadows.

“You’re right.” As soon as he spoke, Brad knew it was the knight who had summoned him here.
Nate stepped out from the shadows to stand face to face with Brad.

“Sir Nathaniel. What is it I am right about?”

“It’s better to leave remnants of your adventures out here.” Nate intoned without smiling. Brad noticed Nate’s eyebrow rise, however. This was the only sign Brad got that Nate meant for the mood to be light.

“You would know, Sir, seeing as you are wondering through shadows away from the party.” Brad took a risk with his retort, but luckily Nate did not even flinch at Brad’s brazen sarcasm.
“Well sometimes even knights could use a moment to themselves.” Nate smiled this time and Brad felt his tongue grow thicker.

“I should probably make my way inside,” Brad said, touching his hand to his hat in salute.

“I’m sure the Court will receive you well. I’m assured of this.” Nate nodded to Brad and waved him forward.

Brad stepped through huge wooden double doors and sucked in a breath. The sight before him was decadent to say the least. Upon long tables were roasted pigs, turkeys and slices of beef. Baskets of fruit and loaves of bread seemed to be in endless supply. Royal banners adorned all the walls. People in fabulous costumes paraded around the hall. Ladies of all shapes and sizes danced happily to the music of a violin player. Brad gazed across the dance floor to the head table, where King Henry VIII and Lady Ann Boleyn were seated upon huge golden chairs.

It was then that he remembered his duty as a mercenary. Observe everything, admire nothing. He turned around expecting to see Nate, but he had disappeared. Brad started to scope the entire room, taking stock of every man. Brad immediately noticed a man with piercing blue eyes that kept shooting the Lady Anne dirty looks; Jealousy if Brad ever saw it. There was a man with curly brown hair who had the seal of the Spanish emperor upon his robes. Brad figured he must be the Spanish Ambassador. He looked just about as pleased as the first man. There was an older man with white hair who was so happy he looked like he had been crowned King himself. Then there was a man who resembled Lady Anne, but he seemed to only have eyes for the violin player.

Brad decided that now would be as good a time as any to begin understanding the ways of Court. He grabbed ha glass of wine and settled down on a bench next to one of the Ladies in Waiting. He smiled at her and started to comment on the scrumptious spread of supper items while he continued surveying potential suspects. She introduced herself as Lady Margaret and touched her hand lightly to Brad’s arm after she laughed at something Brad said. Brad thought it odd that Nate was nowhere to be seen.



Outside the courtyard, Nate was walking along one of the royal ponds next to Mr. Cromwell. Cromwell currently held the title of the Earl of Essex, besides being Cardinal Wolsey’s most important assistant. Everyone at Court knew his story because he was labeled a commoner, a man of no noble background; many made fun of him both behind his back and to his face for this. His shrewd demeanor did not do much to attract friends. Nate also knew that Cromwell was a smart lawyer, a real intellectual. It was rumored that Cromwell, along with Lady Anne, was influencing the King and forcing the reformation forward. Nate had been beckoned outside for a private conversation. The topic was one Nate had been expecting to have to discuss one of these days.

“I need to know, Sir Nathaniel. Are you for the reformation or against?” Cromwell’s voice was hushed and his eyes kept darting around the pond, to make sure no one was listening. Nate had never really been impressed by the Earl, but he had to respect his determination.

“I believe you know that I am a Catholic,” Nate began carefully.

“This isn’t about how you choose to practice religion. This is about stopping the cruel rule of shepherds over their sheep. This is about stopping Church abuses. This is about letting people actually read the word of God themselves.” Cromwell’s eyes burned bright as he relayed what must be his most important passion.

Nate recoiled from it. He felt that even thinking about reformation was like betraying his family.

“I understand what the reformation is, but I’m afraid the importance of it escapes me,” Nate finally decided to say, avoiding Cromwell’s gaze.

Cromwell nodded and put his hands behind his back.

“Very well. The King has requested that a Knight in his service go to Sir Thomas More’s estate and convince him of the virtues of the Submission of the Clergy Act, the Act that forces Clergy to answer and follow the will of The King as well as God. As you may be aware, Sir Thomas More has defied the King in this matter and resigned from his position as Chancellor as a result. The King wishes to be sure that Sir Thomas More cannot be convinced to return to Court. I have chosen you to be that Knight. You should only have to stay for a few days.”

Nate was intrigued.

“But Cromwell, surely you have just heard what I have said. It is likely that I will find sympathy with Sir Thomas.”

Cromwell smiled. He seemed to be pleased that Nate was catching on to some plan of his. Or maybe Cromwell was just trying to unsettle him. It seemed like either possibility was likely.

“I have full faith that Sir Thomas will never change his mind. You are to be sent because you will both satisfy The King and not disturb Sir Thomas.”

“Why would you like not to disturb Sir Thomas?” Nate pressed.

“Because, Sir Nathaniel, I don’t think he deserves that. Besides, he is not a true threat to the reformation anymore.”

Confusion flashed across Nate’s face and he knew that Cromwell noticed.

“It’s okay to have questions, Sir Nate.” Cromwell turned to walk back to the Great Hall.

“It’s Sir Nathaniel,” Nate said under his breath. Cromwell ignored the comment.

“You leave tomorrow!” Cromwell called over his shoulder.

Just as quickly as Cromwell had accosted him, he was gone. Nate tried not to think too much about being chosen for this assignment. He had a mission and he had to complete it. It didn’t hurt that he would get to meet one of the great leaders of Christiandome in the process.
He made his way back to the Great Hall, becoming more and more eager to leave London and do something more worthy of his time.



Brad wasn’t really watching the doors, but he noticed when Nate walked back in. They briefly made eye contact and Brad nodded. He politely disengaged himself from the Lady he had been talking to, Lady Margaret, and made his way over.

“What happened?” Brad asked Nate as he handed him a glass of cup.

“What do you mean?” Nate took the cup and sipped. Brad couldn’t help but watch as Nate brought the cup back down from his mouth.

“You have been gone from your own party and you look excited. I would guess you just got an assignment.” Brad took a sip from his own cup to cover his smile.

“You better be careful, Bradley. You can’t know everything that happens at Court already.” Nate tipped his feathered hat in thanks for the drink and turned to greet other members of Court. He introduced Brad to many different important people, including Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, and the members of the Boleyn family. Brad smiled politely and tried to memorize names and faces.

It became obvious to Brad how different Court life was compared to the way the rest of England lived. Maybe it was because everyone was dressed in fine silks and had their hair washed, but every member of court looked radiant.

Brad noticed a page was hovering near where he stood and Brad politely shook George Boleyn’s hand before turning to the page.

“Colbert? The King has requested an audience.” The page turned and Brad followed after shooting Nate a glance.

He was led through a wide corridor and then into the throne room. Brad quickly swept his arm across his chest and fell into a deep bow.

“Bradley Colbert! I am so glad to have you at Court,” King Henry VIII boomed. His voice seemed to fill the room.

“Your Majesty, the pleasure is mine.” Brad stood up straight, his hands behind his back. He finally was able to gaze at The King, although he did not look him in the eye. His throne was edged with Gold and his thick red robe trailed on the ground next to him. The King had blue eyes that seemed at once brooding and youthful. He tapped his fingers up and down on his armrest, and his rings glinted from the sunlight streaming in from the window.

“As you know, I need you to act as mercenary in Court. What you may not know is that I also want you to track the changes in Gunpowder use.”

“Are you referring to guns, your majesty?”

King Henry tapped his fingers on his chin in contemplation. “Yes. I want them out of my Court. Those things should be left to the battlefield. Anyone with one will be banished.”

“Understood, your majesty.” Brad was dismissed with a wave of The King’s hand, and he reentered the Great Hall.

Brad couldn’t help but think that whole experience had been rather odd. The King was just a man; A stout and well-spoken man who had managed to maintain his youthfulness and handsome appearance, but a man nonetheless. How easy that was to forget. He did wonder why The King had a personal vendetta against guns, though. At that point Brad began to relax further. He looked around at all the seemingly happy people talking and laughing and couldn’t understand why any one of them would want to complicate Court life. The grandiose nature of their behavior put Brad’s teeth on edge, though.

Brad saw that Lady Anne was a skilled dancer. Her smile was infectious and she dragged those around her onto the dance floor. Nate was one of the ones caught up in the dance, and Brad couldn’t help but watch as he gracefully wove in and out of a group of ladies. He smiled at them and took their hands gently as they went around in a circle. He twirled them like it was the most normal maneuver in the world; like he had practiced for years. But he displayed a carefree attitude and his smile was wide. Those things made him easily the youngest looking man on the dance floor.

Brad caught himself smiling and he realized that was probably completely inappropriate.

He grabbed another cup of wine and sat at a bench, purposefully studying Charles Brandon and the Spanish Ambassador. Both seemed to be on their best behavior, even if their faces betrayed that they would rather be thrown into a vat of boiling water. They remained at the party and engaged with other quests. Brandon would occasionally smile and dance with his young wife. Brad didn’t think either of these men were likely traitors, but he would keep an eye on them anyway.

Nate returned from the dance floor to take a seat next to him and his expression was again serious.

“What did The King say?” Nate asked in a terse whisper.

“He said to make sure there aren’t any guns at Court.” Brad was still watching Brandon and the Ambassador, and Nate followed his line of sight.

“Well it looks like you have already picked out Lady Anne’s most likely enemies. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Brad felt Nate’s gaze on him, and he turned to Nate.

“You better be careful, Sir Nate. You can’t know everything that happens at Court already,” Brad mocked. Nate clearly recalled their previous conversation, because his eyebrow rose and that was enough proof for Brad. Nate did not take the bait though.

“I noticed that you called me Nate, but I think I will let that go for now. Also, I will be leaving for a few days to visit Sir Thomas More just so you are aware.”

Brad was amazed at the way Nate could seamlessly transition from a joke to business. Brad might have missed the subtle change in Nate’s tone had he not been watching Nate's face as he spoke.

“Noted, sir.” Brad looked back out at the guests and Nate did the same.



In the distance, a small dark brown cottage had smoke rising from its chimney. Next to the house, Nate could see a farmhouse and a large shed. He slowed his mare as a young page came out to greet him.

“Welcome to Sir Thomas More’s home, Knight.” The page bowed before taking hold of Nate’s horse’s bridle.

Nate smiled at the greeting and was promptly pointed in the direction of the front door. He took a deep breath as he watched his mare being led away. Then he knocked on the front door.
A stout woman with wisps of gray hair sticking out of her white coif opened the door with a guarded smile but honest eyes.

“You must be Sir Nathaniel. I’m Lady Alice, Sir Thomas’ wife,” she said as she ushered him inside.

“I am, Lady Alice. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Nate removed his hat from his head to bow to her. Everyone who knew of Sir Thomas More knew of his outspoken second wife, Lady Alice.

“I’m sure it is.” She laughed and walked ahead. Nate smirked and followed her. He felt like he was going to like this woman.

“Sir Thomas, your visitor has arrived!” Lady Alice called from the hallway. Nate entered a living room that seemed to be filled with children, all busy with needlework or reading. He was surprised at the orderliness of Sir Thomas’ house.

Sir Thomas himself emerged from a different room, and Nate bowed to him.

“Sir Nathaniel. Your presence here is welcomed.” Sir Thomas smiled warmly. It made Nate wonder what he had done to deserve such niceties.

“Thank you, Sir Thomas.”

“Allow me to give you a tour of my modest home.” Sir Thomas ushered Nate around the Estate, obviously proud of what he had.

Nate admired the 3 rooms in the house that housed Sir Thomas’ 4 children and 2 students. Sir Thomas told him that he would be staying in his son John’s bed. He was escorted outside where he saw Sir Thomas’ horses. Sir Thomas also had a cell in his stables.

“This is to house and interview heretics before they are condemned.” Sir Thomas told this to Nate with such matter-of-factness that Nate would have been hard pressed to find any sympathy emanating from Sir Thomas. That immediately seemed like such a contradiction to his reputation at Court.

From there, Sir Thomas led Nate to a small bench under a tree and asked him to have a seat. Sir Thomas folded his hands into his lap.

“I hear you were sent here to convince me of the merits of the Submission of the Clergy act. I also hear you are a practicing Catholic.”

“On both counts you are correct. But how did you-”

Sir Thomas cut him off.

“I still have contacts at Court, Sir Nathaniel. Take care to remember that.” Sir Thomas’ voice was stern and Nate was slightly taken aback. Surely Sir Thomas did not intend for that statement to be the threat it had sounded like.

“I will do that, Sir.” Nate should have known that Sir Thomas would be a skilled politician on top of being a religious scholar and renowned writer. Sir Thomas could not be held in such high regard by The King if he wasn’t. Of course Sir Thomas would have gathered information before Nate’s visit. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that suddenly enveloped him.



Back at Court, Brad was busy pacing through the hallway near The King’s chamber. Night had fallen, and everything was dark and filled with shadows. Brad idly thought about all the different Kings and Queens that had walked these halls, and he felt slightly unsettled. He touched his crossbow slung across his back, just to reassure himself that he was armed, dangerous, and alone.

As a mercenary, he was no stranger to death. Nor was he a stranger to unsettling things, thanks to Ray. But all of the decadence and politics at Court made him uneasy, like he was out of his element.

A shadow moved across a hallway to Brad’s right, and he hugged the wall as he rounded the corner to follow it. He could make out the shape of an indistinct man heading toward the King’s chamber. It was too dark to see what he was wearing or what he looked like, and Brad cursed his inability to see in the dark. He couldn’t shoot the man in case he was actually supposed to be there. The way the man took care not to make any noises made Brad think otherwise, but there was no way to be sure.

The mysterious man walked boldly through the two large double doors that lead to The King’s chambers and eventually to The King’s bedroom, but he looked over his shoulder just as Brad stepped out of the shadows. It was then that Brad noticed the top of a metal barrel sticking up over his shoulder. The man saw Brad’s eyes flash with recognition and Brad took off after him. Two pairs of feet pounded over cobblestone and whipped around corners. Brad was fast but this man seemed to be faster. Not only that, but the man with the gun knew the layout of the building better than he did because he kept darting into small corridors and disappearing.

“Damnit,” Brad cursed under his breath. He had lost him, and try as he might he couldn’t hear anything that might give him a clue as to where the man had gone. He started to case the entire palace, inch by inch. By this time it must have been 3 in the morning.

He was almost back to the great hall when he happened upon the Spanish Ambassador. The Ambassador looked like he was in a hurry, but he stopped when he saw Brad.

“Mr. Ambassador. It is rather late to be attending to business. Or early, rather.” Brad was deciding whether or not he should detain him, but a man of such high political importance would probably not stand for being treated like a common criminal.

“Mr. Colbert. I could say the same to you.” The Ambassador seemed to be daring Brad to do something. For a tense moment, neither spoke. Then Brad decided the best thing to do was to let him go. The assassin would surely not try again tonight anyway.

“Have a good night, Mr. Ambassador,” Brad said as he watched the Ambassador head back to his chambers.

Brad did not believe in coincidences. He would have to stay as frosty as London had been last winter and keep track of the Ambassador. But for now, there was nothing to do but attempt to sleep. No use dwelling on what he couldn't change - mainly, the past. But whoever this gunmen was, he now knew that Brad was coming for him. Chances are he wouldn't be sleeping well either.

--> Part Two

fandom: the tudors, fandom: band of brothers, pairing: fick/colbert, rating: nc17, fandom: generation kill, crossovers, big bang: sub rosa, !fanfiction

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