Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull
Once the courtyard was empty again, Marlowe motioned for them to leave the passageway. They ran along the wall around the edge of the courtyard, hesitating every now and then in case more of the intruders appeared. As they edged through the archway to the gatehouse that lay next to the river entrance, they were overwhelmed by a smell of rot.
The gates hung wide revealing the path that led to the warehouses along the river and the wharf. Two guards lay on the cobbles in the entrance, the moon illuminating skin that was blackened and suppurating. Nathaniel retched at the vile stink that rolled off the bodies and chewed on the back of his hand to control his gag reflex. As he edged closer, he saw large boils had risen up around the guards' necks and a thick white foam covered their lips.
"Plague!" he gasped, throwing himself back against the wall of the arch. "But ... but the guards were well earlier. And plague does not strike one dead so quickly!"
Marlowe led him away several paces and whispered, "Steady yourself, Nat. This plague is not natural. It comes from a weapon the Enemy has under their control-"
"The Spanish have a weapon that can bring disease?" Nathaniel gushed anxiously.
When Marlowe didn't reply, Nathaniel knew his worst fears were confirmed: there was another enemy, beyond the Spanish, and he knew instinctively what it was. Marlowe struggled to find words to continue the conversation and so Nathaniel interjected, "What kind of weapon does this thing, Kit? I have not heard the like of this anywhere."
"I told you-no questions. We can talk of these things later. Right now we must raise the alarm." Nathaniel followed him into the gatehouse, but they'd barely gone three steps over the threshold when the foul smell told them all they needed to know. "Damn them!" Marlowe snapped.
"They are slaying every man they encounter. Is there no protection from this weapon?"
"Dee searches for some defence, but as yet has found none. If used gently, without the protection of the Shield, I am told it has a range-like an arquebus. Stay beyond that range and you will be unharmed."
Nathaniel nodded his approval. "Good. That we can do." He hesitated as a thought struck him, and then said, "The queen! If these guards are dead, the others may be taken by surprise. We must protect her!"
"We are also charged with protecting what is held in the Lantern Tower. That will be the Enemy's first port of call."
They ran from the gatehouse back across the courtyard and into the range of buildings that led to the banqueting rooms. Through the windows, they could see the maze of buildings that surrounded the queen's residence, the Black Gallery and the Tryst Rooms on the far side, and in the foreground the row of stone houses next to the Lantern Tower. Nothing moved in the immediate vicinity.
But as they continued down the corridor, they heard the sound of a guard's challenge ahead. Slowing, they came to a corner and peered around cautiously. At the far end of the great hall, a guard levelled his sword at the hooded intruder, demanding to know his business.
The figure did not respond. For a moment he hesitated, until the guard prodded him with the sword, and then he held out his hand. Dropping the sword, the guard cried out, his hand leaping to his throat. Horrified, Nathaniel watched boils burst from the man's neck, his skin blackening and mouth foaming white, his eyes rolling until he fell to the ground, convulsing a little before he died. The whole process took barely a minute.
"So quick," Nathaniel whispered.
Once the guard had fallen, Nathaniel became aware of figures across the hall, as if they had just stepped out from behind some unseen curtain. If they were the shadows he had glimpsed earlier, they now had substance, though he could see none of their faces. Still indistinct, they appeared to swathe themselves in shadows that were thrown by no obvious light source.
Grace was among them, still entranced. Two of them guided her towards the door on the far side of the hall, the others loping behind. Not a sound echoed; it was as though the hall was filled with ghosts.
Peering through a window, Nathaniel saw the intruders fanning out across the palace complex. "They are everywhere. We cannot confront them all. What do we do?"
"Stealth, Nat," Marlowe whispered. "There is nothing to gain by revealing ourselves yet. An opportunity will present itself." Marlowe did not sound convinced, and Nathaniel could see on his face his anxiety as he searched desperately for an answer. Motioning for Nathaniel to follow, Marlowe dashed across the great hall to the door.
"It is down to you and me now, Nat," he said grimly. "The two of us, to save England and the queen."
CHAPTER 55
I he desperate rhythm of pounding hooves matched the pulse of the ,blood in Will's head. Under the light of the moon, he drove his horse along the sun-baked lanes, over the marshland where lights burned ominously, and past the peaceful fields where the corn waved in the night breeze, with Carpenter and Launceston alongside.
Over the long hours that the Tempest pursued the grey-sailed ship, the three of them had remained in constant council. There was no doubt in their minds that the Unseelie Court would head directly for the Palace of Whitehall, to secure the Shield so they could unleash whatever plan they had nurtured since the Silver Skull had been taken from the Tower.
As they entered the Thames estuary, Will ordered Courtenay to put them ashore before they reached Tilbury. The grey-sailed ship would take the most direct route, slowing to navigate the upper reaches of the river to London Bridge before the Enemy moved to smaller boats to reach the palace. They had a chance to make up some time on the faster ship.
Parched by the dust, they finally reached the city walls during the hour before dawn. Admitted by the night watch, they thundered through the deserted streets to the west where the palace sprawled hard against the river. As they neared, Will's attention was caught by the inexplicable and troubling faint green halo around the Lantern Tower.
Dead guards littered the eastern gateway, features ravaged by disease. Without slowing to examine the corpses, Will, Launceston, and Carpenter continued to the yard next to the Black Gallery.
"No sounds of resistance," Will whispered. "The guards have been surprised and defeated before they could sound the alarm."
Carpenter indicated through the archway to figures making their way among the adjoining buildings. "Our arrival was noticed," he said. "The palace is overrun. Is it too late?"
"Courtenay will soon be here to raise the alarm and seal off the palace, as ordered." Will directed them towards the Black Gallery. "Till then we must do what we can."
"They will try to hunt us down, but their attention is elsewhere," Launceston said, once they were inside. "That will help us evade capture."
At the stairs to the Tryst Rooms, Will said, "We must go our separate ways. I will attend to the Lantern Tower. The Unseelie Court will attempt to break through the defences Dee has put in place. You must protect the queen at all costs."
Carpenter and Launceston raced up the stairs to take the route through the connecting buildings to the queen's quarters. The lock at the entrance to the Black Gallery turned with a clank as Will ran into the map room, locking the door behind him. He proceeded through Dee's personal library to his workshops and then out into the warm night.
Over hundreds of years, the random development of the palace had left a confusing ground-plan for those unfamiliar with its maze of passageways, courtyards, gardens, and buildings, grand and mundane. For Will, it provided ample shadowed doorways and dark places as he attempted to make his way to the Lantern Tower unseen.
The faint glow around the tower's summit still troubled him. He had heard the rumours of unearthly noises emanating from the tower at night, but he had always put that down to a widespread suspicion of Dee and his work.
He took a circuitous route to the range of buildings where the tower stood. Carpenter had been correct: the palace was overrun. Figures prowled through the quiet buildings and searched the open spaces. They ignored the sleeping servants and the members of the court, but culled all armed men as soon as they came upon them.
Unable to help, Will was sickened when he saw a good man's throat slit, a nightwatchman run through before he had even seen his opponent. He tried to estimate the numbers, but they were constantly and rapidly moving. Of the Silver Skull, there was no sign.
Whenever his fears for Grace surfaced, he mercilessly drove them from his mind and concentrated on reaching the tower. On more than one occasion, he had to double back through the deserted kitchens or into the banqueting house to approach from a different direction. Once he had to take refuge in a store filled with an odd mix of carpenters' materials and unwanted items from one of the ships moored at the palace wharf-fishing nets, grapnels, sailcloth, and barrels of pitch. He hid behind a pile of dirty rope while footsteps paused briefly at the door before moving on.
Afterwards, as he stalked along a dark gallery listening for fugitive footfalls, he was overcome by a disturbing sensation of being watched. The feeling grew so powerfully he was convinced someone was hiding in the gallery, but he could find no one among the furniture or behind the tapestries. Finally, as he prepared to leave with every hair on the nape of his neck prickling, he glanced into a large mirror. Instead of his reflection, he saw Malantha, watching him as though she stood in the room with him. Instantly, he was jolted back to the strange mirror that stood in the ritual room in Seville. He smashed the mirror with his sword hilt, but even in the glittering shards he could see her hateful gaze multiplied a hundred times. He hurried out before he was discovered, but the unsettling sensation stayed with him.
When he reached a window overlooking the courtyard that surrounded the Lantern Tower, he saw he was too late. Before the door at the foot of the tower, three shadowy figures watched a fourth who knelt over one of the pulsing glass globes, although this one glowed with a dull, ruddy light like a blacksmith's forge. The kneeling figure busied himself with some unseen activity before the globe. Whatever he was doing, the quality of its light altered repeatedly.
Will Dee's defences hold? Will wondered.
Four more figures entered the courtyard from the direction of the river. At the forefront, Cavillex strode purposefully towards the tower, a barely restrained look of triumph on his face.
The globe flared darker. The door opened.
CHAPTER 56
arpenter and Launceston sprinted along the echoing corridors of the upper floors as they wound their way towards the queen's rooms. From the windows, they watched the Unseelie Court dispatching guards with brutal efficiency, peering into rooms, darting through doorways, moving steadily towards the royal residence.
"Hold," Launceston insisted as they crept along the Blue Gallery. He called Carpenter back to a view over the lawns and paths that lay in front of their destination where Grace was pointing to the queen's chambers. Her head was bowed slightly, a dreamy smile on her lips. Beside her, Mayhew stood with his hood removed so that the Skull gleamed brightly in the moonlight.
"She is entranced," Carpenter said. "She cannot help herself."
"Still, she guides them-she knows the palace better than Mayhew. If the opportunity arises, she may need to be removed from the game."
"Save your bloodlust for Mayhew, Robert. That damned traitor deserves to be carved like a side of beef." Carpenter glared at the Silver Skull for a moment, all his secret loathing now directed towards his former ally.
No guards waited at the queen's door, and there were no bodies. The door itself was slightly ajar.
Fearing the worst, Carpenter pushed it open, his sword drawn. The windowless antechamber was dark and empty. They waited a second until their eyes adjusted to the gloom and then entered, but no sound came from the bedroom beyond. At the doorway, they hesitated, fearing the consequences of breaking into the queen's chamber at night, despite the seriousness of the occasion. Finally, Launceston grabbed the handle and flung the door open.
A flickering candle on a side table illuminated another empty room. Carpenter and Launceston exchanged an uneasy glance when they saw the bedclothes had been torn back roughly.
"We are too late," Carpenter said. "They have her."
Acting as if he had not heard, Launceston stood deep in reflection.
"The Unseelie Court is on its way! We must leave or they will trap us here!" Carpenter insisted.
"If the Enemy had already arrived, the guards would be dead at the door," Launceston mused. "No, they left to investigate the attack. Perhaps they were directed by ... someone."
"Then where is the queen?" Anxiously, Carpenter glanced back towards the antechamber, already imagining Enemy footsteps drawing nearer.
Launceston turned slowly, and then allowed his attention to focus on the candle. Its flame bent in a draft, although the windows were shut and heavy drapes drawn across them. Striding quickly to the candle, he followed the direction of the draft to the oaken panelling marked with the queen's initials. Along one edge was a dark vertical line. With his fingertips, Launceston eased open a hidden door.
"A secret passageway," he said. "Not sealed tight amid a hasty exit."
"Enough talk." Carpenter thrust Launceston into the passage and closed the door behind them with a soft click.
The passage was dry and dusty. Rats scurried ahead of them. They continued in the dark for a little way, wishing they had brought the candle with them, until a soft glow appeared ahead. Swords raised, they edged forwards slowly.
From the dark, a figure clattered a sword against Launceston's weapon. The fight was brief and the attacker driven back, until the half-light washed over them.
"Marlowe!" Carpenter exclaimed.
Relief flooded Marlowe's face and he lowered his sword. "Thank all the powers there are," he breathed. "I am more dangerous with a quill than a sword. I thought this was the end of me."
He led them along the passageway to a series of windowless rooms. In the first, Nathaniel waited with Walsingham and Dee, their faces drawn. Through the half-open door to the adjoining room, they could just make out the queen, seated on a chair, her head bowed, her face as white as Launceston's in the gloom. Without her red wig to cover her grey stubble she was a picture of age and impotence far removed from the regal figure they had all seen in public.
"She would not have you see her like this," Walsingham said quietly. He closed the door a little more, but there was only one light and he did not want to plunge her into darkness.
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