The inimitable Plaidy continues her Novels of the Tudors by taking readers into the life of Sir Thomas More, a man torn between devotion to religion and duty to state.

JEAN PLAIDY is the pen name of the prolific English author Eleanor Hibbert, also know as Victoria Holt. The King’s Confidante is the fourth book in her nine-book series on the Tudors. For more information on Jean Plaidy, visit www.CrownHistorical.com.

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1

"And who is this man who dares oppose us?" demanded the King. "Who is this Thomas More? Eh? Answer me that."
The King was angry. He sat very straight in the royal chair, one slender hand lying on the purple velvet, which covered the table, the other stroking the ermine, which covered his mantle. He was battling to subdue his rage, to preserve his habitual calm; for he was a shrewd man and his life had taught him that unheated words were more effective than the sword.
He looked from one to the other of the two men who sat with him at the velvet-covered table where lay the documents which had absorbed their attention until the entrance of the man Tyler.
"You, Empson! You, Dudley! Tell me this: Who is this man More?"
"Methinks I have heard his name, Your Grace," said Sir Edmund Dudley. "But I know him not."
"We should be more careful whom we allow to be elected as our London burgesses."
"Indeed yes, Your Grace," agreed Sir Richard Empson.
The King's fury was getting the better of him. He was glaring distastefully at Master Tyler, that gentleman of the Privy Chamber who had brought the news; and it was not this king's habit to blame men for the news they brought. Tyler trembled; he was fervently wishing that he had allowed someone else to acquaint the King with the news that his Parliament--owing to the pithily-worded arguments of one of the youngest burgesses--had refused to grant him the sum of money for which he had asked.
There was one other in the room of the palace of Richmond, and he--a boy of thirteen--was staring idly out of the window watching a barge on the river, wishing he were the gallant who accompanied the fair young lady as they went gaily on to Hampton; he could see them well, for his eyesight was keen. The sun was shining on the water, which was almost the same color as the dress of the young lady. This Prince was already fond of ladies, and they were fond of him. Although young as yet, he was already as tall as many men and showed promise of shooting up to great stature. His skin was fair and his hair had a tinge of red in it so that it shone like the gold ornaments on his clothes.
Now he had forgotten the young lady; he wished to be playing tennis, beating any who challenged him, listening to the compliments they paid, pretending not to hear, while they pretended not to know he listened. For two years he had been aware of such adulation; and how could he, who so loved adulation, feel really sorry that his brother had died? He had loved Arthur; he had admired him as his elder brother; but it was as though he had lost a coarse frieze garment and, because of his loss, found himself the possessor of a doublet of velvet and cloth of gold.
He was conscious that he was a prince who would one day be a king.
And when I am, he told himself, I shall not sit in council with such mumping oafs as Master Dudley and Master Empson. I shall not worry my head with the hoarding of money, but the spending of it. I shall have merry men about me--fat spenders, not lean misers.
"And you, my son," he heard his father say, "what of you? Have you heard aught of this fellow More?"
The boy rose and came to the table to stand in homage before the King.
My son! pondered the King. What a king he will make! What resemblance he bears to the hated House of York! I see his grandfather, Edward of York, in that proud carriage.
And the boy's father was faintly worried, for he remembered Edward the Fourth in his latter years when the tertian fever had laid hold of him and, like a mischievous scribe, had added a smudge here, a line there, until an ugly mask had made a palimpsest of his once beautiful face. But not only the fever had done this; it had been aided by the life he led: too much good food, too much good wine; too many women--anyhow, anywhere, from serving wenches to duchesses. Such debauchery t

Excerpted from The King's Confidante: The Story of the Daughter of Sir Thomas More by Jean Plaidy
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