by Cate Cain
Ann stopped him with a frown as a man slowed beside them to stare at Cleo.
“We must find somewhere we can talk properly, somewhere people won’t pay attention to us,” Ann hissed.
Jem thought hard for a moment and remembered a conversation he’d once overheard between Tobias and one of the other footmen who’d committed a minor offence and wanted to lay low somewhere Wormald would be unlikely to find him.
“Best place for that, my friend, is a tavern. You’ll find all sorts in there and no one asks questions. No one cares if you’re a servant or a prentice boy. As long as you’ve coin in your breeches you can lose yourself in a London ale house for a couple of hours – and very nice it is, too.”
Feeling rather grown-up, Jem repeated Tobias’s suggestion, but he was still a bit surprised when Ann nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, that would be perfect. Lots of noise, lots of people. The best place to hide is always in a crowd! As long as Cleo stays hidden they’ll be too interested in the ale to notice us.”
“But we can’t just sit there,” said Tolly. “We need money to pay for bread and ale at least. And we don’t have any.”
Ann bent down and picked up a handful of grey pebbles, slipping them into her pocket. “We do now,” she grinned broadly, showing the little gap between her front teeth.
The Jack in the Green was a tavern in a narrow lane quite close to St Paul’s and several streets away from Ludlow House.
The children liked the look of the place immediately. It was busy, but not too busy. Several travellers with trunks and bags were in the doorway, waiting for coaches, and three of the young servers who bustled between the trestles on the rush-strewn floor were about the same age as Jem.
Ann took the lead. Sweeping into the smoky tavern, she made for a partly private booth formed by two tall-backed benches at the far end of the room. She beckoned Tolly and Jem to join to her.
When the landlady, a fat, grease-spattered woman with a red face and thick meaty arms, bustled up to them with a threatening look on her face, Ann played the lady to perfection, telling her that she was waiting for her father who was up from the country on city business. She even asked about the possibility of taking a room for the night and accommodation for her servants, airily indicating Tolly and Jem.
The woman seemed delighted to have a young lady of quality in her inn and was even happier when Ann displayed four bright coins from her pocket and ordered a jug of small beer, bread and a platter of meat.
“That was impressive,” said Jem when the woman had gone. “Although I’m not sure about the bit when you described me as your servant!”
Tolly laughed. “Me neither – but it seemed to do the trick.”
Ann sighed in exasperation, then checked the room around them before leaning forward to whisper urgently. “Tolly, please try to keep Cleo’s head down!”
Then she turned to Jem. “Right, tell us everything. Try not to leave anything out. Even small details could be important.”
Once he started, Jem found it difficult to stop. Ann and Tolly listened intently.
When he described Cazalon’s experiments on the dog and the cat, his friends were horrified.
“The cruelty… Those poor creatures.”
Ann’s voice was a cracked whisper and her huge eyes brimmed with glassy tears. “We often hear strange noises, sometimes the most pitiful shrieks and cries, but whenever Tolly goes to find out where they are coming from it’s… it’s as if the house seems to fold in upon itself to hide its secrets.”
Tolly nodded grimly. “And from what you’ve just told us, Jem, it sounds as if it was a good thing I didn’t blunder in on one of his experiments. Did he really say that he was thinking of doing that to Cleo and me?”
Jem nodded miserably.
Tolly put a protective arm around Cleo and huddled her closer. The little group fell silent for a moment, then Ann pushed her white hair back from her face and reached across the table to squeeze Tolly’s hand.
“Go on, Jem.”
He began to describe the library, but Ann stopped him. “Yes, yes. I know all about it. I’ve been there, remember? It’s one of the only parts of Malfurneaux Place where I can move about quite freely. I think it holds so many books belonging to my family that I am… I don’t know… protected perhaps? It’s as if the house doesn’t notice me among so many other Metcalf things.”
“But don’t you think it’s… odd? The library I mean?” asked Jem.
“Well, of course I do!” she retorted. “But this is Malfurneaux Place, remember? I would have thought that you of all people would appreciate that it’s not like Ludlow House… or anywhere else.”
She stopped and tapped the table irritably, staring at her long elegant fingers, but when she looked up again and caught sight of Jem’s face her voice softened.
“I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I do know this must all be very strange for you.”
Tolly nodded solemnly. “It’s as I told you, Jem. We’ve lived with it for so long now that we’ve ceased to notice how very peculiar it is to someone from… outside.”
Ann smiled. “Just ignore me. Go on. Please.”
When Jem described the fresh mummia and how Cazalon obtained it, Ann gasped in shock at the news that the sarcophagus did indeed contain a mummy. She was so fascinated she took a stub of charcoal and a little notebook from the folds of her skirt and began to scribble, stopping Jem every now and then to get him to repeat things.
He only faltered when he described the moment in the library when he had been tricked into kneeling.
“Oh Jem, you should have been on your guard.” Ann threw the little charcoal stub down in frustration. But she was absolutely furious seconds later, when he admitted that he’d eaten Cazalon’s food too, slamming the notebook down so hard that several people in the tavern turned to look at them.
“But I warned you!”
“I know. It’s just that he caught me out. Both times he managed to trick me. He cheated, he…” Jem slumped miserably into the seat.
It was probably a good thing that the proprietor reappeared at that point carrying a jug and three pewter tankards. The trio were quiet as they filled the tankards and sipped the ale. It was thin and weak, but always safer to drink than the city’s putrid water.
“I hardly dare to ask this question.” Ann’s voice was tinged with sarcasm. “But you are quite sure that you haven’t given him any of your clothing, aren’t you?”
Jem nodded glumly. “That’s the one rule left, isn’t it?”
“Rite, Jem. The word is rite.” She was still angry. “You have willingly completed four of the five rites of binding. There is just one more rite to go before he will be able to control you completely. Do you understand what this means? You will become his creature. Cazalon will be able to command everything that you say or do.”
“But why would he want that?” Jem looked into the bottom of his tankard as if he might find an answer there. “I don’t understand. Why on earth does he want power over me? What use am I? This doesn’t make any sense.”
They were all silent.
After a moment, Ann sighed.
She looked across the table. Her expression was unreadable. “Do you know what an androtheos is?”
“What do you think?” It was his turn to snap.
Ignoring his sulky tone, Ann continued, “The night before he went to France, my guardian communicated with my mother.” She flinched, before continuing, “I didn’t expect him to come to my chamber as he had made the blood bridge just days before.”
She broke off and loosened the ties on her cuff. Rolling her sleeve to the elbow, she exposed the soft scarred skin of the underside of her arm. A new wound stretched from her wrist to her elbow. It was vicious, deep and jagged and only just beginning to heal. Jem’s throat tightened.
“He did that?”
Ann nodded, unable to continue. Tolly spoke instead. “It bled for hours, Jem. I thought it wouldn�
��t stop. I– I thought she might…”
Tolly bit his lip and looked down.
Ann rolled back her sleeve and retied the cuff. She sat upright on the bench and shook her head as if trying to clear her mind. “When he made the bridge last time, one word – androtheos – kept ringing in my mind for hours afterwards. My mother planted it there for a reason. I heard it again and again, like an echo.”
She flicked through her little notebook. “I looked it up in the library. It appears in some Roman accounts of Caesar’s invasion of Britain. Apparently, the great emperor was terrified of our primitive pagan ways.”
She smiled tightly. “Ah, here it is. The book was damaged and the page was stained. I couldn’t read it all because some of the words were missing, but this is what I was able to copy and translate.
“‘Androtheos: the man reborn as a god. In ancient tradition the druids of Britain were said to derive their great power from the Androtheos of their making and their choice. A willing human sacrifice was necessary for the arch-druid to achieve this transformation.’”
She looked up at the boys. “I think there was more about finding the right person and the qualities that person should possess. And there was something about awakening the place of sacrifice, but I couldn’t read it all because the page was badly stained.”
Ann looked back at her notes. “This is how it finished: ‘The druid priests believed that if all this was properly achieved at the appointed place, then all the powers of a god would be granted to their Androtheos.’”
She looked up at Jem and Tolly. “I believe that Cazalon intends to make himself the Androtheos. But who will be his willing human sacrifice?”
She paused for a moment and then, quietly, she answered her own question. “I think it must be you, Jem. Why else would Cazalon have sought the boy of jade for so long unless he needed him for some very particular reason… I think Cazalon is trying to bind you so he can control your mind and make you a willing sacrifice.”
Jem clenched his fists. He would let Cazalon do nothing of the kind.
The children sat in baffled, fearful silence. When the trencher of bread and cold meats arrived, none of them felt hungry. It was now early evening and the tavern was becoming noisy and busy. Tolly looked towards the door where a group of rowdy young men were jostling one of the serving girls. His eyes narrowed. “It’s getting late, Ann. We must go.”
He tucked the reluctant Cleo deeper into the folds of his shirt.
“You’re right. I’m certain Tapwick’s still sleeping, but we must be there when he wakes.” Ann stood and put the four shiny coins on the table. As she rose, a ripple of white hair fell back over her shoulders.
Several men stared at her as the little party picked its way through the tavern. They were still several yards from the door when there was a furious shout.
“Oi! You three! Pay me in pebbles, would ya?”
Jem turned to see the tavern keeper lumbering towards them. Her face was red and as she pushed through the crowd she started to roll her greasy sleeves up to her elbows.
“Hold it right there, you thieving vagabonds. Stop them!”
“Run!” Jem yelled at Tolly and Ann, who were ahead of him. “I’ll give you a chance to get clear.”
“But Jem, what about you?” Ann’s voice was full of panic.
“Just go – and don’t look back.” He leapt up onto a long trestle table and let out a loud mocking whistle. Everyone in the alehouse turned to look at the boy on the table and Jem was relieved to see that the momentary distraction gave Tolly, Cleo and Ann the chance to slip through the door up ahead.
He looked at the hostile faces staring at him and took a deep breath. Now what?
He felt excitement and fear flood through him as he made a snap decision.
“Good evening gentlemen,” he shouted, then grinned, bowed and began to race along the table top, jumping easily from table to table and kicking out at the foam-topped tankards in front of the customers. He felt as if he was flying. He revelled in the fact that he moved so fast and leapt so nimbly that no one was able to stop him. Men who weren’t dabbing at their ale-spattered clothes and sodden wigs tried to grab his feet, but he was too quick for them.
Jem had never felt so elated. After years of taking orders in the kitchens and being at everyone’s beck and call it was as if something in him had been set free.
But when he reached the end of the next trestle table, a group of city men were waiting for him. A rotund alderman with tiny piglike eyes removed his wig, wiped his sweating pate with it and rubbed his hands in anticipation.
“You’ve had it now, my lad.” He started to clamber up onto a bench beside the table so that he could catch hold of the boy, but Jem launched himself into the air and grabbed hold of a metal hoop hanging from chains attached to a beam running across the ceiling. If he could clear just a few feet more he’d almost be at the door.
The hoop held several metal cups set with stinking tallow candles and as Jem swung out over the men at the end of the table, greasy dollops of thick yellow wax rained down on them.
The fat alderman yelped as the hot wax splatted on his bald head and he toppled from the bench, knocking over several of his comrades who floundered around in the damp rushes.
When he had sailed clear, Jem dropped to the floor and darted to the door. The sound of angry shouts rang in his ears as he sprinted down the street.
Bumping and blundering into finely dressed gentlemen, scented ladies, merchants, traders and beggars, Jem ran and ran until it felt as if his heart would burst, and then he ran some more.
When he couldn’t go another step, he staggered into an alleyway and collapsed, choking and gasping for air as he leaned against a stone wall.
After a minute he slid down to a sitting position and rested his head on his knees. His damp curly hair flopped down over his face.
“Ah, here he is!”
Jem heard the sound of clapping and looked up to see Ann and Tolly beaming down at him.
“That was brilliant!” said Tolly, offering a hand to pull Jem to his feet. Cleo was perched on his shoulder. She chattered with excitement and performed a little salute with her good paw.
“That was quite a performance,” said Ann. “We might have ended up in prison tonight if it hadn’t been for you. I’m sorry – I hoped my spell on the pebbles would last longer than that!”
Jem performed another elaborate bow. “It was nothing,” he grinned. “Actually, I really rather enjoyed it!”
The evening was bright and warm as the trio made their way back to Cheapside, where they would go their separate ways. A man carrying a large square parcel pushed past as they turned into a cobbled side street.
“That reminds me! I forgot to mention the cases,” said Jem. “Huge wooden cases for the duke have been delivered to Ludlow House from Paris. We’re not allowed to open them.”
“They must have come from the count,” said Tolly.
Jem nodded. “They’re all being kept in a locked room and no one is allowed to go in.”
“Can you get in there, Jem?” asked Ann. “Whatever’s inside those boxes it’s obviously something important – and you are the only one of us who can find out what it is. I can give you a charm to—”
“No. I won’t need that,” Jem cut in quickly. He felt funny at the thought of being turned into something strange, and besides, now he thought about it, he did know how to get in. “I think I know a way. But, er, thank you.”
Ann stared at him speculatively. “As you wish. I suggest that we meet again as soon as possible and then you can tell us what you’ve found.”
“As soon as possible? But what about the plot? What about London?” demanded Jem, also thinking What about my father?, but deciding to keep that to himself. “We might be running out of time. We don’t even know what they are actually going to do or when they are going to do it.”
Tolly looked at him intently. An odd expression flickered over his features, before h
e replied. “Look, we know the count isn’t due to return to London until the end of August and that’s still weeks away – we can be very sure that nothing is going to happen without him. There’s still time, Jem.”
Ann nodded. “And we can’t risk raising Tapwick’s suspicions, so I dare not send him into a long sleep again for several days. But we promise we will send Cleo with a message about another meeting as soon we can.”
Without allowing Jem chance to reply, she continued decisively, “Whatever the day, we will meet at the same hour, at the back gate to Ludlow House. Come on, Tolly, we really must go back. Keep Cleo hidden!”
The children walked together to Cheapside. It was still thronged with people. Dust thrown up by horses and carriage wheels filled the air. Cracked-voiced street-sellers carrying broad trays that swung on leather straps from their necks still tried to attract customers.
A booming voice sounded suddenly from somewhere above them. “Ann! Ann Metcalf. Where the devil have you been?”
A huge hand came down and gripped the girl’s shoulder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jem looked up in panic. A dark, broad-shouldered man was leaning down from a covered wagon above them. Ann shrieked and twisted, trying to free herself from the man’s grip. She tried to bite at his stubby fingers, but could not get away.
“She always fought like a tiger, this one.” The booming voice rang out again, but this time, with a chuckle.
“Calm yourself, girl,” the man said, releasing Ann from his grip. “It’s me, Gabriel. Gabriel Jericho.”
“Gabriel! You frightened the life out of me! What on earth are you doing here?” said Ann, finally managing to free herself from his hand. She stood in the street with her hand on one hip, staring indignantly up at him.
Gabriel leaned back on the wooden plank that formed the driving seat and handed the reins to a ruddy-faced boy sitting next to him. Turning to someone behind him in the depths of the wagon he called out.
