Free The Queen of Last Hopes by Susan Higginbotham

open.”
    Suffolk, rising at the king’s command, bowed and returned to his seat, and the lords and the commons settled back in theirs, the commons smiling. “He wants a hearing?” one whispered to the other. “By God, he’ll get one. And more.”
    ***
    “Your graces, two days before, the commons asked that the Duke of Suffolk be committed to prison while he awaited a hearing of the charges against him. The request was denied because there was no specific charge against him, only a most general one. Now, however, I am appointed by the commons to say that a serious charge does exist against him, namely, that he has stocked Wallingford Castle, entrusted by the king into his care, with provisions and that he has fortified it.” The Duke of Buckingham started to interrupt, but William Tresham, speaker of the commons, continued doggedly as he faced the duke and the rest of the delegation sent to him by the king. “He has stocked it with the intention of aiding the French when they invade England, as is expected daily.”
    “That’s utter balderdash,” said Buckingham.
    Tresham, who had been chosen as speaker at several Parliaments but would have gladly avoided the honor at this particular one, looked uneasy. “But nonetheless, my lords, it is a specific charge, as was requested to be brought, and it is a grave one.”
    “So it is,” acknowledged John Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, with a smile. For years, the Duke of Suffolk had kept him out of any real influence in East Anglia. “I believe, my lords, we have no choice but to advise the king to imprison the Duke of Suffolk.”
    ***
    “They took Suffolk as a prisoner to the Tower?” I stared at Henry. “Like a criminal?”
    “My dear, he was not humiliated. He was taken at dusk, in a closed barge, and let out in my own private water gate. And he will be lodged comfortably. I have appointed three of my most trusted squires to care for him. The duchess may visit him if she wants.”
    “But you let them imprison him! You gave the order!” I balled my hands up into fists.
    “My dear, calm yourself! I had no choice. You know that he himself asked that he be given the chance to answer the charges against him, and when a specific charge were brought, it was of too serious a nature to be ignored.”
    “But it is a ridiculous one! Suffolk would never aid my uncle against you—or me. He has done nothing like that.”
    “I know it, my dear.” He drew me to him and stroked my hair, even as I held my fists up next to his chest. “I will not let harm come to him; he has been loyal to me and my father for all of his life. Do you think I would forget that, Marguerite? Do you think I am so poor a man that I would abandon a friend to his fate?”
    His tone as he spoke the French version of my name was so reproachful that I hung my head and began to weep. “I am sorry,” I whispered. “I know you would do none of those things. But after what was done to Bishop Moleyns—”
    “I do not even wish to think of it.” Henry shuddered.
    “But you must. They are vicious people, Henry! They will not be satisfied with keeping Suffolk in the Tower, and that is bad enough. They are capable of any vile act, I think.”
    “Now, my dear, that was in Portsmouth, and the soldiers were ill-fed and discontent. Do not have so little faith in our commons. They are good men, I’m sure of it. It is just that our reverses in France have set them on edge.”
    “You have more faith in them than I do.”
    “We must have faith in them,” said Henry, so sincerely that I felt a pang of guilt for my own doubts. “And in the Lord. Remember that, my dear.”
    ***
    Henry did not trust entirely to faith. In February, when the commons formally impeached Suffolk of treason and misprision, he refused to refer their bill to a judge. On March 9, however, the commons delivered a second round of charges. This time, Henry, under pressure from both the lords and the commons, required Suffolk to make an answer