Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull
Don Alanzo levelled an unsettled stare at him. "You are insane."
"We only know we live when our heart beats faster," Will gasped. "Now, I think we are done here. Shall we be away?"
Before the bear had recovered, Will cupped his hands for lion Alanzo to propel himself to the top of the central pole. Half slipping, he steadied himself on the top and then leapt to the edge of the pit. Two of Pickering's men rushed him, but he ducked beneath their grasping hands, turned, and thrust both of them into the pit. As they shrieked in terror, he reached an arm down and hauled Will to safety.
In their brief glance was a mutual admission that the truce was over, and as Will turned to his men, lion Alanzo disappeared into the melee. Three of Pickering's men came at Will with cudgels and daggers. As they neared, confident in their numbers, Will activated the sheath Dee had given him. The blade burst out of its hidden compartment along his forearm, and with one fluid swing he slashed the throat of the first man and planted the knife edge into the heart of the next. Startled, the third man fell before an elbow rammed into his face.
The crowd roared its anger. Bounding to his men, Will slashed the restraining ropes. As they quickly freed themselves and turned to fight, Will fought his way through the crowd to where Pickering was rapidly disappearing into the throng. Before he gave pursuit, Will put his weight against the long table and heaved one end into the pit. The bear hesitated for only a second, and then launched itself up the table.
Chaos erupted across the fair as the bear crashed over the edge of the pit and into the crowd. The screams and shrieks were drowned out by roars as it tore through flesh and bone.
With grim determination, Will rammed his way through the fleeing people, throwing bodies right and left. Two conflicting targets fought for his attention: the Silver Skull and Grace, both of whom had been standing behind Pickering, held tight by his men. Now they were both lost in the swell.
In the confusion, stalls were overturned, their owners fighting furiously with their former customers. Shattered lanterns sent flames leaping to canvas and wood and then up into a blazing column that only added to the panic; in the city, fire was the greatest threat.
Through the whirling bodies, Will glimpsed a gleam of silver bobbing towards the other side of the courtyard. As he neared, he saw Don Alanzo leading the Silver Skull through the throng towards one of the alleys heading off the courtyard. Will cuffed a wild-eyed drunk who stumbled into his path and tossed him onto a stall, but Don Alanzo had now been lost to the torrent of people.
Above the hubbub, Pickering's barking orders rolled out. His men drew their attention from the bear, the fires, and the fights towards lion Alanzo, and Will.
Troubled that he could no longer see Grace, Will redoubled his efforts to break through the flow. When he finally emerged from the crowd, he caught a fleeting glimpse of lion Alanzo and the Silver Skull disappearing into the maze of alleys, but the cry of "Clubs!" was already rising up from Pickering's men as they surged towards him.
Will sprinted across the cobbles, but he had not got far when the chilling howl of a hunting dog echoed over Alsatia.
The Hunter was close and drawing closer.
CHAPTER 16
,ith her hood pulled low to hide her face, Grace sheltered behind the wreckage of a stall from the yelling crowd of cutthroats and customers washing back and forth between fire and the rampaging bear. Knots of Pickering's men beat paths through the mass. Certain they were searching for her, Grace regretted foolishly calling out Will's name; now Pickering would try to use her to control Will.
With frenzied roars, the lunging bear was surrounded by several men with staffs. Shrill screams echoed as raking claws tore one open from throat to groin, but within a minute the others forced the beast over the edge and back into the pit. A cheer went up, and as the bear's rage subsided, the panic receded. Grace knew she had to secure her escape while there was still some tumult to obscure her passing.
Keeping low, she edged around the stall until she glimpsed a path to one of the four alleys leading off the courtyard. Before she could move, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder.
Her startled cry was stifled by a hand over her mouth, and her head turned to reveal Miller's kind face. Grace recognised him instantly as one of the men who had been held prisoner alongside Will.
"Mistress, we must get you out of this danger," he said.
"Please," she begged, "Will is in great danger. You must help him."
"Will can take care of himself."
"No," she pressed. "I saw him in pursuit of Don Alanzo. The Spaniard will lead him into a trap-the Don has other allies in London. And the King of Cutpurses has dispatched his murderous crew on Will's heels. You must help him!"
Grace's pitiful expression moved Miller. "Very well. But stay here. I will fetch the others to help you-"
"Go!" she interrupted. "I will call if I need them."
With a nod, Miller threw his great frame in the direction Grace indicated. Glancing around, Grace spied Launceston, Mayhew, and Carpenter, who had now claimed cudgels and knives and were carving a path through Pickering's men with cold efficiency. They were too occupied to help her.
Determination blazed inside her. She would not be beaten down, nor afraid. Jenny's death had convinced her that life was hard, and easily cut short, and that living in fear only diminished it further. Setting her jaw, she waited for the path to the alley to clear again, and then leapt from her hiding place and ran.
Few women were there, and most of them were doxies or members of the criminal gang, but she moved swiftly without drawing attention to herself. For a while she was caught up in a hectic attempt to put out the blazes, but eventually the alley appeared in reach. Yet as her heart beat faster in anticipation, in the corner of her eye she caught sight of a bird mask fixed upon her, and for the briefest moment, she was caught in Pickering's unblinking stare. With no men close to hand, Pickering gave pursuit himself. Barging through the crowd, he closed the gap so quickly Grace knew that even if she reached the alley, he would be upon her soon after.
The clatter of his hobnails upon the cobbles rang at her back. With her breath burning in her chest, she slipped into the dark of the alley and only when her eyes adjusted did she realise it was occupied. Her startled cry faded at a familiar face.
"Kit!" she cried. "And Nathaniel!"
With a small group of the queen's men at their backs, Marlowe and Nathaniel advanced on the courtyard. Marlowe had his sword drawn, but Grace fell into his arms in relief.
"Thank God," she gasped. Glancing back, she saw Pickering come to a halt when he saw the new arrivals, and then turn and rush back into the crowd.
"Nat urged me to bring help when Will did not return by the appointed hour," Marlowe said. He turned to the men. "Seal off this courtyard. Let no man escape, for we will have an army of rogues at our back if word gets out that we are here."
"Will pursues a Spanish spy, and another of your men has gone to help," Grace said. "You must aid him-"
The words died in her throat as the howl of the hunting dog rose up again, this time laced with an insistent bloodlust. It had located its prey.
CHAPTER 17
he twisting routes among the tenements were impenetrably dark, the buildings too high to allow the moonlight to reach the ground. Only the occasional glimmer of candlelight gleamed in the black windows. Will's footsteps echoed off the walls like stones dropped on ice. From somewhere ahead of him, a similar noise resounded, and from behind came the tramp of many boots as Pickering's men fanned out through the maze of byways. Their lanterns flickered like fireflies as they searched doorways and side alleys.
At a crossroads, he realised the footsteps ahead had slowed. Keeping close to a wall, he edged forwards until whispering voices emerged from the gloom, speaking Spanish. Another voice responded, mellifluous but with an unsettling note of menace.
Tracing the low conversation along an alley to another courtyard large enough to be filled with silvery moonlight, Will found lion Alanzo and the Silver Skull with the Hunter. Beside him, his dog's red eyes sparked.
Keeping well to the shadows where he could not be seen, Will spied on the scene, but within an instant the dog's hackles rose and it released a low, threatening growl. Peering directly at Will, the Hunter gave a knowing smile.
Will expected the Hunter to set his dog loose, but instead he removed an item from the pouch at his belt and kept it hidden in his palm.
Stepping out from the shadows, Will said, "You keep dishonourable company, lion Alanzo."
Don Alanzo eyed the Hunter. "A mercenary from Flanders."
"More than that. And worse." Will strode forwards, keeping his right arm and Dee's blade hidden behind his back.
"Leave here, Will Swyfte, as quickly as you can," Don Alanzo said. "I offer this advice as a courtesy. In return for you saving my life in the bear pit, I now save yours."
Don Alanzo's words could have been glib arrogance regarding his skills as a swordsman, but Will heard a powerful note of truth in them. "I cannot leave without the Silver Skull," Will responded. "I have been entrusted with the task of returning it to the Tower."
"Him," Don Alanzo snapped. "Not it. There is a man beneath this mask, and he has been held prisoner in this Godforsaken country for twenty years. You claim to be the civilised defenders of the true way, righteously holding back the conspiracy of barbarians beyond your borders, but you commit atrocities without a second thought. You persecute good Catholics-"
"Because you persecute us. You and your allies will not be happy until England is a memory."
"Arrogance finds a good home in this country. You believe any action you take is justified, and so you are capable of anything, without even a glimmer of guilt. You are blind to the blood on your hands and the brutality that lurks behind every sneering face in your court. You have turned away from God and Rome, but your sins run deeper by far."
"The one that stands beside you is more dangerous than any Englishman, and capable of worse things by far. He smiles and calls you friend, but he plays you like a lute."
"That may well be," Don Alanzo replied. "But for now we have a common enemy, and so we walk shoulder to shoulder."
Will knew there was no point arguing with lion Alanzo, but before he could act, Miller emerged from the alley on the other side of the courtyard. Signalling to Will that he was going to attack, he was brought up sharp by the sight of the Hunter and his dog. In a single moment of hesitation, all Miller's fears played out across his face, followed by a furious internal battle as the man Walsingham had recognised put those concerns to one side. Gripping his dagger tightly, Miller attacked.
Though he didn't make a sound, he'd barely got halfway across the courtyard before the Hunter sensed his presence. Will watched a smile flicker across the Hunter's lips, but it was too late to call out. The Hunter didn't turn until Miller was almost upon him, and then he whirled fluidly and grabbed Miller's wrist before he could plunge the dagger home.
As Will raced to help, the Hunter let slip the leash and his dog bounded forwards, its deep, rumbling growl turning the pit of Will's stomach. Will held the blade before him, but the dog didn't attack; it simply marked a line between the Hunter and Will and moved back and forth along it, holding Will at bay with the snap of its huge jaws every time he tried to pass it.
The Hunter didn't attempt to hurt Miller. Still smiling, he pulled Miller towards him by the wrist with a slow, relentless ease, even though the terrified farm boy used all his strength to resist. When he was close, the Hunter leaned in and whispered in Miller's ear.
Instantly, Miller grew still, his eyes widening. The Hunter pulled back, his smile now taking a different note, and he let go of Miller's wrist, which remained aloft for a second before his arm slumped to his side.
"Tom! Pay him no heed!" Will called, unable to round the snapping dog.
Miller appeared unable to hear. His shoulders slumped, he walked in a daze away from the Hunter, Don Alanzo, and the Silver Skull to the dark shadows on the edge of the courtyard, where he slid down the wall and came to rest with his head in his hands.
"I will extract a harsh price for any harm you have caused him," Will said.
Eyes glittering, the Hunter stared back, silently mocking.
As the dog returned to its master's side, the tension broke. Thirty of Pickering's men surged into the courtyard from different alleys. Turning slowly, lion Alanzo looked directly into each face as if searching for something he couldn't find. Despite the overwhelming force, he appeared completely at ease.
Turning back to Will, he said, "This is my final warning. Move away from here and do not look back."
His words were filled with such a powerful gravity that Will walked slowly backwards until rough hands grabbed his arms and held him tight. He continued to study Don Alanzo and the Hunter, trying to anticipate what was to come; but if one thing convinced him of the extent of the potential threat, it was their complete calmness in the face of cudgels and knives.
"This Spaniard is an Abraham-man," the leader of Pickering's men said in the thieves' cant. The ragged scar that ran from his left temple to his right cheek only emphasised his expression of mocking contempt. "Or he's been too long in the boozing ken. You know I cut bene whids-he carries no sword and there are thirty of us good copesmates! Let us have him!"
He beckoned the others with a hand missing two fingers and advanced on Don Alanzo and the Silver Skull. Will still expected the Hunter to unleash his dog, but instead the Hunter opened the palm of his hand to reveal a blue jewel as big as a coin which shimmered with the reflected light of the moon.
"See, lads! They offer us their riches to buy their lives. We shall have that ... and their lives!" The scarred man gave a mocking laugh.
As the scarred man stepped forwards, the Hunter calmly fitted the jewel into an almost-invisible indentation on the Silver Skull's forehead. A loud click brought the scarred man to a suspicious halt. The Hunter whispered in the Silver Skull's ear. He wrung his hands in anguish, and tried to turn away, but the Hunter caught his arm in a tight grip. Don Alanzo whispered in the Skull's other ear in a manner that appeared to be calming. After a moment, the Silver Skull began to shake, and Will was convinced that beneath the mask he was trying to control deep sobs. Then, with a desperate resignation, he raised one hand to his temple and half bowed his head as though in deep thought.
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