“Perhaps...”
“Then perhaps the King should know about them?”
Spence leaned forward, captivated.
“They get caught? It’s genius, Starkes, absolute genius. I have an idea.”
“Oh yes. It’s all your idea, Sir William.”
“How does that feel?” Charlotte said quietly as she secured the final part of the video and audio pack to Jake.
“It’s good. Thanks Char.”
“You still call me Char, Jimmy,” she said, smiling.
“No one else calls you Char. It’s something only I do.”
“I don’t let them call me Char, that’s why.”
“You let me.”
“Yeah, well. You’re you, Jake.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh shush. And your hood is all bunched up,” she said, blushing as she reached up to adjust it. Jake watched her as their faces came within inches of each other. She hadn’t noticed his gaze and he smiled as she frowned in concentration.
“There,” she said, “all done.” She began to drop her hands but stopped on his shoulders as their eyes met.
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, seriously.
“Well someone has to look after you,” she teased. “Look after yourself out there though, ok?”
He put his hands on her waist and watched her for a moment. Her lips parted nervously under his gaze and she sub-consciously shuffled towards him. Laughter sounded from the adjacent room, breaking their trance and she smiled as she looked up at him.
“Concentrate, ok?” she said, letting her hands slowly fall over his chest. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”
He pulled her closer by her hips and leaned in close to her ear. She felt her heart rush as the tickle of his lips brushed her as he spoke.
“I’ll see you tonight then,” he whispered, and he backed away, smiling as she grinned and dropped into a stool behind her. Turning his back, he opened the door and stepped outside leaving her biting her lip, her chest aching with longing.
John and Jake shared a glance before John reached out and knocked on the door of the address they had been given. Looking around him, Jake watched the lines of traders and carts in the street by the house in the City until the door was opened by an old man in brown robes who stepped back to let them in.
“Sir John, Sir Jake,” he said as he ushered them through a door into a meeting room with a long oak table in the centre and candles burning all around.
“Ah,” said Courtridge, standing from the head of the table before the nine men seated around him. “Gentlemen, John and Jake de Rougemont.”
The room fell silent as the men of varied descriptions assessed their new companions and greeted them with nods. Sitting at the foot of the table, John held his goblet for the old attendant to fill with wine, and smiled gratefully as he sipped it. Jake put his hand over his and shook his head silently at the offer.
“You don’t drink wine, Jake?” Spence asked, feigning curiosity and politeness.
Jake turned to look at him.
“No,” he replied simply, looking away and leaving the lieutenant of the conspiracy glaring at the side of his head.
“Now,” interrupted Courtridge. “We know why we’re here, gentlemen. After cultivating this group for two years, we are almost ready. We have the front guardsmen prepared and entry into the White Tower arranged with one of our loyal allies inside. Our only issues will come ultimately with the King’s personal guard, whom we know we must engage in order to take the king himself; and initially with the inner wall sentries who we cannot turn. This issue, my friends, poses a large problem.”
“Can we not engage the guards?” asked a bearded man next to John.
“No, Robin. I have considered it but I am afraid we cannot. I intended to turn more, but it appears loyalties in this City are firmly split down the middle. With those soldiers based between their post and the guardroom on the inside of the gate, to fight them while on the outside is impossible and any other open attempt to breach or climb would raise alarm and wake the soldiers in the barracks. We need those soldiers out of the way or we will be outnumbered, and we need surprise for the personal guard or else we may lose men trying to overcome them. No, instead we need a way behind them, a way inside; and we have two weeks to sort it.”
“Two weeks?” John asked. “I had no idea you were moving so soon.”
“I’m afraid so, John. Is that a problem?”
“Of course not,” John replied, seeing more than a few suspicious eyes turn to him. “This is just our first briefing, Edmund.”
“Lord Edmund.”
“Apologies, Lord Edmund. This is our first briefing and I hadn’t anticipated how long it would be or how far into preparations you already were.”
“Yes, well, we are. I have planned this attack since King Edward Fourth fell ill. We are ready.”
“Ready apart from the inner wall?”
“Yes, John. Ready apart from the inner wall.”
Nodding, John sat back in his chair and waited silently for the eyes to turn back to Courtridge.
“My Lord, if I may?” asked an older man at the table.
“Phillip?”
“I know of an entrance to the inner courtyards from my days in the guard.”
“You never mentioned it. Go on.”
“A secret tunnel exists under water level on the river side of the outer inlet to St. Thomas’ gate. My Lord, it goes straight under the street and under the castle’s inner walls.”
“That tunnel was closed, I remember the news myself.”
“I was put in charge of that task, Sir. I assure you it is not.”
“Now why am I not surprised?” Courtridge laughed. “That is wonderful news, Phillip, but it must be tested as soon as possible; perhaps even tonight.”
“Edmund,” Spence interrupted. “Let’s give it more time. It must be planned after all. Should we not allow a day for preparation and send someone in tomorrow night.”
“Very well, William, you are right. Do we have any volunteers for this task?” Courtridge asked the room. “We simply need to locate the tunnel, ensure it is still open and identify to where it leads. Be warned it is dangerous with the guards, but you also know that cess-pool we call our beloved river is not the most fresh.
“My Lord, I figured our friends De Rougemont could run this errand for us?” mentioned Spence, quietly. “You know, cut their teeth?”
He glanced at Courtridge and then to Jake, smiling as he said the words.
“That is once more an excellent idea, William. John, Jake, I’ll need you to boat to the gate in darkness, locate the entrance as per Christopher’s instructions and get a measure of the other end. I need to know how it comes out, guard numbers around it, and the ease of access to the main inner gate once inside. Is that suitable?”
“Of course,” John replied. “We’ll be ready for tomorrow.”
“Christopher will arrange a boat and will discuss it with you in more detail next door. Thank you.”
As the almost elderly Christopher stood and nodded to them, John took it as his dismissal and followed through into the adjoining room with Jake.
“Well then,” said Christopher as the door shut behind them and the meeting continued next door. “Here’s the plan.”
Eighteen
18th June 1483
The silent night was inky-black as John and Jake crouched low in their tiny wooden boat and paddled silently below the wall of the Tower. Having paddled from the London Bridge in an effort to avoid being seen, the walls appeared clear and the gentle ripple from the front of the boat was all they could hear in the stillness of the night. Jake concentrated hard to see in the moon-less water and was looking towards the inlet when he heard John whisper behind him.
“There are a couple of important things I want to discuss with you, Jake,” he said, barely louder than a breath. “Whatever happens tonight, our only chance of survival is if the
others get to know about it and this job gets finished. If something untoward occurs and one of us gets caught, providing the other can escape, they must do so and they must get away to warn the others and move them on. There can be no heroics here tonight, not in any shape or form. We cannot both get caught.”
“I understand,” Jake whispered back as he watched the wall.
“Make sure you do. As much as it would hurt me, if you get caught tonight and I can get away, I will leave you behind.”
Jake looked at him doubtfully.
“I must, Jake, and you must leave me. There is nothing more important.”
“Ok,” he said more seriously.
“It’s an order.”
“Ok.”
They slithered along the wall until John put his hand up to stop Jake paddling.
“Below the third spike in the wall, he said. This must be it.”
There was a black stain on a slab several stone-levels above the full tide waterline. Phillip had described the mark below the third stake protruding from the wall and had spoken of a loosely bricked up hole hidden by the water below.
With a nod and a quick pat on the shoulder, Jake slipped off his cloak to reveal the dark, compression clothing the team had each brought with them in their packs. He took a deep breath then slipped his goggles over his head before dropping over the edge of the boat to disappear silently below the black ripples of the cold river Thames. For John, the chance of visibility was practically zero. But Jake, being the only member of the team with the foresight to bring goggles, claimed he never travelled for work without them. Unfortunately the darkness would prevent him from seeing where he was going anyway, but the filth in the river was potent and they had decided that their eyes would be one route in that germs would take. John’s only hope was to hold his breath and to keep his eyes squeezed closed at all times underwater.
A minute or so later, Jake’s head popped up next to John and he whispered, shivering.
“It’s here but the bricks are heavy,” he said. “There are a few to slide through before we can get in. Hang on.” He disappeared again before appearing almost a minute later. “Ok, rope,” he said quickly.
John tied one end to a seat in the boat and passed the other to Jake who took a deep breath and shot away. His nerves built as the time went on and he sat helpless in the boat alone. He had no idea if Jake had a long underwater swim the other side of the hole. Phillip thought not but it had been years since he’d seen the entire tunnel and John had no idea of Jake’s breath-holding ability.
The time stretched to over a minute once more as John waited in the boat. The rope had ceased to wobble and drag thirty seconds before and there was still no indication that Jake had made it through. He gripped the edge of the boat, silently cursing his indecision as he slipped his robe off.
As he decided to wait ten seconds more before diving in after his friend, the rope finally jolted three times with unmistakeable pulls from Jake and John sank back to his knees. Utterly relieved that his friend was through safely, but now frighteningly aware that his own lungs were not likely to last as long, he took a big breath and plopped headfirst over the side into the water and pulled himself along the rope.
Feeling his way down the wall, he kicked his legs and pulled until he came to a tiny hole only two stone-blocks wide. He wiggled through in one slow movement and reached forward to find a rough incline below him. Kicking his legs desperately and pulling himself along, his chest screamed for air and he began to panic as it seemed the tunnel would never curve upwards fast enough for him to reach the surface. His back scraped the stone above him as he pulled himself upwards in the tiny space. His fingers scraped desperately along the bottom and his body took on more of a desperate wiggle than a controlled kick until finally, in the pitch black darkness, his face was met with warm air and he sucked in a huge, gasping breath.
Jake grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up onto a flat edge as his hoarse breaths rattled around the tunnel and his fingers clambered to pull him up the rough slope.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“Fucking hell,” John panted. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“I know, did your top get caught in the hole too?”
“Caught? Jesus, no. I only just made it on a straight swim. Thank god I didn’t get caught or I’d be dead! Jesus, Jake, I think I am dead already.”
“Well let’s see how the night goes from here,” Jake joked as he turned and scrambled through the darkness ahead of them. They half-stood bent-over, as they found the end of the tunnel after only a short distance. A faint, flickering light could be seen coming from a narrow crack in the wall as they neared it and Jake peered through the loose stones to get a measure of the other side.
“There’s nothing there, it’s just a tight corner,” he whispered. “There isn’t a torch light until further down, and there is no sign of any guards.”
“Ok, let’s do it and get out of here.”
They shifted the two heavy, loose blocks together as quietly as they could, then John edged forwards to the newly re-opened hole.
“Johnny, let me go first, mate,” Jake whispered, putting a hand on his boss’ shoulder.
John chuckled quietly.
“Yeah, you reckon I’m gonna let you go first after you got all the swimming adventure? No, seriously. You’ve done a lot, Jake. It’s my turn to take a risk.”
“I just mean, you know, if anything happens. I might have a better chance.”
John fixed him with a face of mock-hurt.
“Don’t write me off yet, mate, I’m not that old. Anyway it’s clear. Just come straight through after me.” He smiled then and unsheathed the knife from his arm, holding it ready as he ducked his head through the low hole and slithered through into the tiny space the other side.
Jake poked his head through as soon as John’s legs cleared the hole, and pushed his arms through as the older man stood up. Jake glanced up as John poked his head around the corner and jumped as he was struck from his feet with a shout and landed hard next to him on his back. He pulled his own knife and began to shuffle through the tight hole as quickly as he could as shouting ensued in the corridor and mailed hands reached down around the corner to John. He watched, still struggling to get through, as John kicked out and pulled the armoured man down onto his face. As his nose hit the stone with a sickening crunch, he looked around at Jake only inches away before the young agent drove a knife into his neck, killing him on the spot.
John managed to scramble to his feet as the next soldier came and barely avoided a metal punch before he was able to attack himself. Watching the struggle in the tiny space, Jake continued to wriggle his shoulders through as John overpowered the young guard and threw him to the floor only to be knocked back down by another several men raining blows down onto him. Screaming with effort and with his face covered with blood, John turned to Jake and watched him through the punches with a look of determination in his eyes.
“Go! You know what to do!” he shouted through blooded lips. “Go!” he shouted again through the noise as Jake ignored his first order. “You know you have to. Go.”
A bare hand stretched through the space and caught Jake’s shoulder by the material, pinching the skin. He reacted and bit down hard on the hand, drawing blood which filled his mouth. The soldier let go with a scream and fell back into the crowd. The near-miss made Jake realise John was right and he locked eyes with him for a moment, fear and sadness contorting his face, as he forced himself to go against his strongest instincts and disappeared into the darkness with a growl.
With relief, John turned his attention back to the men on top of him and curled up into a ball defensively. He had no way out, he knew. He was captured breaking into the King’s tower. There would only be one outcome and he prayed he’d either be rescued or killed quickly.
“Walls, boats!” bellowed an authoritative voice in the crowd. “Man the walls! Make sure you get that traitorous bastard!�
�
John smiled to himself. Despite the numbers, they didn’t have a chance in hell of catching Jake and he at least knew his team would be warned and taken to safety. His last thought was of the faces of the guards when they lost his friend in the water. Then something heavy hit his head behind his ear and he slumped still, out cold.
A distant and echoing thump beat several times in John’s head as he felt an ache deep inside it. First he heard voices over the din of the noise; then his eyes opened to reveal shadows above him, roughly pulling his arms and legs down a long, tight staircase. His head, forgotten by them, screamed to him as it hit each step in turn.
Meeting the bottom of the steps he was slid along a rough stone floor by his feet and dropped at the foot of a table.
“I’m not expecting anything new,” sounded a rough, deep voice as heavy boots began to shuffle around the table legs. “Who is it?”
“We think John De Rougemont, Sergeant. Of course, we can’t be sure yet. None of the lads knew him by face and, well, now he’s a bloody mess.”
“John Rougemont, eh?” the gruff voice said as the shadow became a face and the large soldier leaned in close to John’s battered features. As his eyes adjusted in the dark, John recognised the image of Sergeant Sykes from their first entry to the Tower. “Yes he is a mess but that’s Rougemont alright,” he said. “Why is he here and not in the keep upstairs?”
“Sergeant Rogers sent us here, Sarge.”
“This man is a noble. This shithole is for peasants and villains. Nobles would only be sent here for interrogation.”
“I think Rogers intends that, Sarge.”
“Jesus Christ. Why? What’s he done?”
“Tunnelled to the inner wall from the river and tried to break in by the looks of it. Rogers reckons he was tipped off so we were waiting. That’s how we know who he is.”
“Fuck it. Alright, bang him up and look after him. Remember his status and his recent meeting with the Duke. I’ll find out what Rogers wants and question him myself.”
The Tower Grave Page 12
