Angels

by Philip E. Batt

many things over the years, I'm afraid. Your Lieutenant didn't think to press me on it, and it was convenient that he thought Allington a suspect. He is very trusting your Lieutenant.'

  'And what about the man? Appleby?' Winterburne asked.

  'He was just unlucky,' Courtenay said. 'He happened to stumble across Fenton, just after he had killed the girl. He shouldn't have had to die, and if the incompetent fool, Fenton, had been more careful, then he would still be alive.'

  'But you did kill Fenton?'

  'Of course.'

  'Why?'

  'He was becoming a liability. He had started to develop ideas above his station.' Courtenay laughed. 'Do you know, he actually had this absurd idea that he mattered to my plans?'

  'So, why did you kill him?' Frederick asked.

  'In truth, I always intended to,' Courtenay replied, 'at some stage, when his usefulness had passed. He just made the decision about the timing a whole lot easier.'

  Frederick seemed to sense that the Chamberlain was off guard and he ran at him, but Courtenay was too quick. The back of the man's fist crunched full square into the Emperor's face and he fell to the floor, unconscious. A bright red streak of blood trickled down his nose and across his face.

  'Oh dear,' Courtenay said, 'look what I've done now.'

  Winterburne looked across at the Emperor, but he had fallen well, and he seemed in little danger. 'It was you that tried to charge me down on your horse,' he said. 'Yesterday. As I left the guild house.'

  'And I nearly did.' Courtenay said. 'Some coincidence that. I didn't know you would be there, of course, but when I saw you, well, it was an opportunity too good to miss. Except I did miss, of course.'

  'Where were you going?'

  Courtenay held the smirk on his face. 'Let's say that I was taking my horse for a little walk, shall we?' Courtenay looked around the room. 'Oh, look,' he said, 'in all the excitement I had quite forgotten, Captain. It seems that it's just you and me, now.' He looked down at the soldier who was holding his leg still. 'No disrespect,' Courtenay added, 'but you don't really count.' He chuckled. 'Don't get up.'

  Winterburne drew his sword; the blade made a metallic hiss of steel on steel as he it pulled free from the scabbard. 'Even odds suit me fine, my Lord.'

  Courtenay smiled and passed his dagger from one hand to the other. 'Splendid,' he said. 'But I should warn you not to underestimate me, Captain. I am a most dangerous opponent.'

  'Oh,' Winterburne replied, 'I am well aware of that.'

  'Shall we dance, Captain?' Courtenay stepped left and right, trying to make himself a difficult target. 'It is the Ball, after all. I think we should, don't you?'

  Courtenay moved closer to the doorway that could be his escape route out of the Palace and Winterburne knew that he would have to act quickly or risk losing the man. He lunged with his sword catching Courtenay off guard a little as the blade cut a slice through the left arm of his jacket. A thin line of blood formed as the sharpened steel broke the man's skin.

  Courtenay looked down at this arm. 'Very good, Captain,' he said, 'but not quite good enough.' He slipped his jacket off his arm and walked around to the far side of the desk. He removed the other arm and threw his jacket at Winterburne.

  Winterburne pushed the garment to one side with the blade of his weapon as it flew towards him. Courtenay's flesh wound was already staining the arm of his shirt, and the top two buttons gaped open down the front. Hanging around his neck on a chain, he saw a silver medallion.

  Courtenay reached down and held it up with his left hand. 'What? You're looking at this thing?' he asked. 'You’ve seen one of these before, though, haven’t you, Captain.' The mocking tone in his voice continued. 'Mine is silver, though.' He looked at the metal as it glinted in the torchlight. 'I've been a member of the guild for a very long time, you see. Much longer than anyone alive today can remember.'

  Winterburne dived forward and swung his sword at Courtenay's head but he ducked below the blade as it passed harmlessly above him.

  'You’ll need to be a little faster than that,' Courtenay said.

  Winterburne pulled the dagger from his belt. It was not balanced for throwing but even so, if luck was on his side, it might just do the job. Courtenay's eyes widened, and a smile crossed his lips. He actually appeared to be enjoying this. Winterburne drew back his arm, and released the knife in his direction. It flew through the air, but Courtenay stepped to one side and the dagger continued on its path, hitting the wall behind him with a ring, before clattering to the floor.

  Just as Winterburne was ruing the miss, Courtenay lifted the edge of the desk and threw it on its side. Winterburne tried to jump backwards but the oak table was solid and heavy and fell across his foot knocking him to the floor.

  Courtenay ran towards the door on the back wall and opened it, taking the key from the lock as he passed.

  The door slammed shut just as Winterburne got to his feet and he heard the key click in the mechanism.

  'Damn!' he said, as he ran over to the door. It looked heavy and his foot hurt, but he tried the same trick as he had used previously in the corridor. The door held as he kicked out. He tried again, and this time it gave a little but still stood. Stepping back from the door, he ran forward hitting it hard with his other foot, it gave way and he found himself tumbling through into the corridor beyond in a heap. He got to his feet and ran back into the room to check on the Emperor. He was still out cold.

  'He’ll be fine,' the soldier said.

  Winterburne knelt next to the man, looking down at his leg. He had been lucky, the bolt had missed an artery.

  'I've had worse in training,' the soldier said, as he looked at the missile that had passed almost clean through his leg.

  'I somehow doubt that.'

  'Go!' the man said. 'He'll be getting away. I'll watch the Emperor.'

  Winterburne nodded his gratitude before running out through the door, and along the corridor. It carried on for some way and as he ran he realised that he must be doubling back towards the rear of the Palace. The corridor turned without warning and ended at a wide-open door. He ran through it, finding himself in the Palace gardens, the trees and bushes looming over his head in the darkness. A path ran through the gardens and he joined it, following it around to the back wall. Two guards stood at the entrance with their weapons pointing at the sky.

  'Lord Courtenay,' Winterburne said, a little out of breath, 'did he come this way?'

  'Yes, Captain,' they both said together.

  'Then why didn't you stop him?'

  'Well, he's the Lord Chamberlain, Captain,' one of the soldiers, a Corporal, said. 'Why would we need to stop him?'

  Winterburne shook his head making his disbelief obvious. 'Which way did he go?'

  'That way, Sir.' The other guard pointed in the direction that Courtenay had ran. 'He went West.'

  Winterburne frowned as he looked in the direction that the guard had indicated. He’s heading for the docks, he thought.

  'Both of you,' he said to the two men, 'come with me.'

  28

  Winterburne tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword as he led the two men along the street that stretched away from the Palace gardens. The back roads of Highport after nightfall were not for the faint-hearted and to cap it all there was no moon to help them find their way through the darkness.

  'The Lord alone knows where all the guards are,' Winterburne said. 'I would have expected there to be more men on the streets.'

  'They've been ordered to the city walls, Sir,' the Corporal said.

  'Oh?' Winterburne was surprised at the response. 'On who's orders?'

  'Rumour has it that it was Lord Courtenay's.'

  So that was it, Winterburne realised. Slowly, but surely, the man had been laying all the ground work for his plans, preparing the detail one step at a time. With fewer guards around he would have a better chance of escape.

  The armour of the two guards rattled as they jogged. In the quiet of the night, they might
as well have been ringing the City Crier's bell.

  'You're making more noise than the musicians in the great hall,' Winterburne said. 'You'd be making less if you both carried a tambourine of your own.' He pointed at the belts and buckles that secured the armour that the two men wore. The pieces were mostly ceremonial anyway and would provide minimal protection if the men had to fight. 'Courtenay's wearing light clothing and he can move much faster than us.'

  The two men looked at each other and stopped running. They removed their helmets and unbuckled the heavy metal plates that sat on their chests. When that was done they were free to reach down and unfasten the fixings of the greaves that were strapped to their shins. A few minutes later and all their armour sat in a pile on the side of the street.

  'That won't stay there long,' Winterburne said. 'The people round here are worse than magpies for collecting things, and that stuff will be gone in no time.'

  'Yes, Sir,' the two men said, together.

  'Never mind.' Winterburne thought back to the matter in hand. 'He's got a head start, so we have to be smart about this.' He pointed at the Corporal. 'You. Go north to the city wall and follow it west until you reach the North Gate. If he has gone that way, you can try to cut him off and stop him from getting out of the city through that route. Then, work your way down North Street and meet me near the docks.'

  'Yes, Sir,' the Corporal said, before jogging away in the direction that Winterburne had indicated.

  Winterburne turned to the second soldier. 'I have a hunch that he's going to that ship in the harbour. I think that was always his plan.'

  The soldier nodded in agreement.

  Winterburne pointed south-west, towards the alleys and streets that led through the maze of buildings in the North Quarter. 'Work your way through until you get to North Street. Try to flush him out if he’s in there. But be careful,' he said, 'he's very dangerous.'

  The guard nodded and set off towards the nearest alleyway that led into the labyrinth of streets and passages.

  Winterburne set off towards the south. That direction would bring him directly down to West Street and there would probably still be some people about. It was early enough that not all the souls would have gone to their beds so perhaps Courtenay would try to keep away from the crowds. The Ball would still be going on, in full swing he imagined, so the guests would be safe inside the Palace, and hopefully Cromwell would soon be mustering some men to follow on behind. Once he reached West Street he could work his way down to the harbour. If Courtenay had kept running he may already have reached the ship. If not, he might be flushed out by one of the two men. He could do with more of them, he thought, there's no way that three of them were enough.

  He ran on, through the alleyways that ran parallel to Imperial Square. This one, he recalled, would take him past the rear of the University and then out onto West Street, just up the road from the Watch Headquarters. From there he could cut through the market and then continue on to the docks.

  oOo

  The alleys were dark, and as the soldier looked up at the houses on either side that towered above his head, he felt nervous. It was not the most ideal location for anyone to be called to fight but he hoped that it would not come to that. It was slow going, checking every corner and blind turning, but he pressed on regardless. On either side of the alleyway more branches ran in opposite directions, and his heart sank.

  'This is a waste of time,' he muttered to himself, 'I'm never going to find him in here.'

  He walked on, the sense of dread and foreboding increasing the deeper into the alley that he went. It was so quiet, the recesses and doorways that lined the route as silent and dark as an empty coal cellar. He pulled his dagger from its sheath. The snick sound it made as he drew it made him feel a little more secure.

  Then, just as he was feeling better, the soldier heard the clatter of