by Cate Cain
“Welcome to my home, boys,” said Gabriel, striding towards the tent. They headed round to the door flap, which was lit by flaring braziers. “Ann’s over there practising. I thought it might be a good idea to give her something to do.”
The showman pointed across the field. A little way off, Ann was standing beneath a tree talking to a man wearing a long coat made of hundreds of different squares of bright material.
She laughed with delight as the man pushed up his sleeves and held out his hands to reveal two small green fires burning brightly in each open palm. He whispered in her ear then made a low bow. Ann blushed and dropped a curtsey.
Then she held out her right hand. At first nothing happened. Then a tiny blue light seemed to flicker in her palm. The light grew larger and stronger until a glowing ball was hovering there.
Ann pointed at the ball with her other hand and it rose into the air, following the direction of her finger. Slowly she raised the glowing orb higher and higher until it floated over the man’s head. Then she clapped her hands and it burst into a shower of sliver sparks and shimmering moths. The man grinned broadly. Looking over to Jericho and the boys, he called out, “She is remarkable. Truly her mother’s daughter, Gabriel.”
“Jem! Tolly!” Ann came running over as soon as she saw them. “Where have you been, Tolly? And you, little one?” She bent to fondle Cleo’s velvety ears. “You’ve been missing since yesterday. I was beginning to worry.” She sounded annoyed and relieved at the same time.
She grinned up at Jem and touched his arm, “It’s so good to see you. I’ve been…” she stopped and wrinkled her nose. “What’s that awful smell – you haven’t brought that man Wormald with—”
Jem began to gabble. “Ann, I know what they are going to do! There are buildings in the boxes, London’s going to burn on the first of September, Cazalon’s going to build himself a hideous cathedral and thousands of people are going to…”
“Slow down. Slow down!” Ann flicked her thick white hair back from her shoulders and began to knot it loosely at the nape of her neck. As her tapering fingers wound the hair into a white ball she scrutinised him closely. “Look at you, Jem, you are exhausted – and famished, no doubt. Come inside. Before you do anything else you need to eat.”
It was an order, not a suggestion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Inside Gabriel Jericho’s tent, small metal lanterns set with coloured glass hung from the ceiling. They cast pools of painted light across a warm inviting space filled with painted hangings, cushions and furs.
At the centre of the tent a cooking pot bubbled merrily over a small fire. The air was filled with the scent of spices and a plume of smoke coiled up to a vent overhead.
Ann bent down to scoop a bowl of rich stew from the pot. “Here, try this.” she said, offering the bowl to Jem.
“But I can’t eat,” he blurted out. “Ann, I know what’s in the boxes. I know exactly what they intend to do.”
Her eyes sparked with excitement, but she rapped the ladle sharply against the pot. “You need food to feed the brain, Jem Green. You can’t do anything on an empty stomach. Eat!”
Gabriel chuckled. “I wouldn’t argue with her, lad. And her food’s as good as any I’ve tasted, so get stuck in. You can tell us while we sup.”
He took the ladle from Ann’s hand and helped himself to a great dollop of the stew. “Smells delicious. You’ve your grandmother’s touch when it comes to recipes, my lass.”
He folded himself comfortably into a pile of cushions and began to slurp.
Ann smiled fondly at him and at Tolly, who was already helping himself to a large portion. “These last few days it’s been like having a family again, Jem,” she said quietly.
He took the bowl from her outstretched hands and, just for a moment, felt a pang of envy as he wondered what that must feel like.
As they sat in a ring and shared the meal, Jem began to describe the events of the last few hours. He was surprised to find that the words came easily and realised, gratefully, that Ann’s stew sharpened his mind and his senses.
“You were incredibly brave. Imagine what they would have done if they’d found you,” Tolly whispered after Jem had described hiding in the wooden model of St Paul’s Cathedral.
As Jem got to the part about the plot to burn the city, Gabriel slammed his empty bowl to the ground and shook his head in disbelief.
But it was only when Jem took the crumpled contract and the duke’s fire map from his soiled jacket and laid them out on the floor of the tent that Ann spoke.
“You say this map came from Cazalon himself?”
Jem nodded.
She stared at the map and traced the outline of the five-pointed star at the place where the quarters of the city met. “What’s this?”
“I couldn’t see properly, but I think it’s the area Cazalon has marked out for himself. The others are to be responsible for starting the fires in a quarter each, but this place in the middle – where the quarters join up around St Paul’s – is to be his alone. It’s where he plans to build his new cathedral.”
Ann pored over the map again and then drew a sharp breath. “This is high magic – beyond my knowledge. Do you see these symbols?”
Jem and the others leaned closer. At the corner of each quarter there was a faint mark – an odd twisted scribble made up from circles, crosses or loops. The symbols were drawn in something brown and crusted – something very like dried blood – and faintly beneath each sigil a name was written in tiny looping script: Avebury, Kilheron, Pinchbeck and Bellingdon.
Ann shivered, her eyes huge. “These are the marks of the Old Watchers. Have you ever heard of them?”
The others sat in baffled silence so she continued. “My grandmother used to say that in the most ancient days, the gates of the world at the north, south, east and west were guarded by four powerful Watchers who allowed nothing from this world to pass to the lands beyond – and vice versa. The Watchers were terrifying beings. They were as old as time itself and they could control the elements. But they had grown weary of their task. Gradually men forgot them – so they slept. I think Cazalon is calling on the guardians of the gates – he is trying to use these four men named here to awaken the Old Watchers and harness their power.”
She frowned and added, more to herself than anyone else, “But that’s madness, it’s like raising a dragon or a demon to do your bidding… I don’t understand.”
“But surely this is about burning the city and making a profit from building a new one in its place?” Jem said. “The duke and his friends don’t know anything about magic.”
“Cazalon does,” Ann replied. “And I suspect my dear guardian cares very little about building a new city or making a profit. No, this is about something else…” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Something to do with you, Jem. Why else would he take such pains to bind you?”
She stood up briskly and went over to a pile of furs in the corner. She folded them back to reveal a small oblong casket decorated with bright gems and enamelled panels. Carrying the casket back to the fire she sat down again and smiled at Jericho.
“It’s the only thing I have left belonging to my mother and grandmother,” she began. “Gabriel has kept it for me ever since they were…” Her voice cracked and she looked down and opened the casket.
Gabriel reached over to put a large hand on her shoulder. “I promised your mother I’d keep it safe until I could give it back to you, and I did,” he said gruffly. Ann began to root through the box, and its contents rattled and jingled.
“Ah,” she said, producing something small and shimmering. “This was my mother’s favourite.” She held up the object so that it glittered in the firelight and Jem saw that it was a delicate jewel shaped like a crescent moon. It was studded with small clear gemstones and the curved ends were sharp and tipped with two more clear stones, both cut to a faceted point. The jewel was familiar. Jem realised that he had seen it before – or something
very like it – in the portrait of Ann’s mother at Malfurneaux Place.
Ann saw his expression and handed him the crescent. “You’ve seen the painting, haven’t you?” she asked.
Jem nodded. “Elizabeth… erm… your mother, was wearing this in her hair. She was very… beautiful.”
He blushed as he realised for the first time that Ann too was extremely pretty. Embarrassed, he dropped his gaze and turned the jewel over and over in his hand. When he looked up again Tolly was staring at him.
“She was thirteen when that picture was painted. The same age I’ll be next May,” said Ann sadly, reaching into the box again. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Ah, here it is.”
She brought out a small, ancient-looking book and leafed through pages covered with beautiful illuminated letters and pictures in rich colours. Arriving at a page marked with a ribbon, she began to read aloud.
The Prophecy of Fire
Oak grove burns and old stones sing
Old stones sing for green blood
Green blood flows in old veins
Old veins fill with new life
New life born as oak grove burns
She looked up expectantly.
They were all silent for a moment.
“What? What does it mean?” asked Jericho.
“I think she’s about to tell us…” said Tolly, feeding a scrap of bread to Cleo.
Ann grinned and shifted on her cushion to a more comfortable position.
“The book is called The Prophecies of Albion. This version has been in my family for generations. My grandmother loved it because the pictures were so beautiful. There are one hundred and forty-four prophecies in all – they are all supposed to foretell dire events and calamities, but the book is so pretty that it never seemed particularly frightening to me. Did you all notice that the first words and the last words of the verse were the same? It’s a very powerful device in old magic.”
The others hadn’t noticed, but none of them liked to admit it.
“But why read us that verse? What does it mean?” asked Tolly.
Even Cleo was listening in rapt attention.
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” said Ann. “When I opened the book for the first time since Jericho returned it to me, it just naturally fell open here at this page. But look…” She pointed at a single line of writing beneath the colourful illustration that was opposite the Prophecy of Fire. “When the dark god rises in the Oak Grove only the moon child, the black traveller and the boy of jade can bind him.”
Ann laid the book on the ground in front of her. “The boy of jade,” she repeated, looking at Jem.
Jem picked up the book and stared at the words. The writing was beautiful and strange. He could tell it wasn’t Latin and he was almost certain that it wasn’t Greek.
Tolly gasped. “Could it be talking about us? I’m the black traveller, and Jem, you’re the boy of jade… and Ann, that would make you the moon child, wouldn’t it?” Ann nodded and pointed again at the book. “I think you two should look at the picture, and carefully.”
The picture took up the whole page opposite the short verse. At first it looked like an intricate pattern of fire and purple smoke, but as Jem looked closer he noticed towers, rooftops, walls and battlements deftly painted onto the vellum beneath the red and gold painted flames.
But it wasn’t the burning city that made him catch his breath – it was the three tiny figures at the bottom left of the page. They were carefully drawn near an archway leading into the walls of the city – two boys, one dressed in green and one completely black, and a girl with streaming hair painted in silver. He couldn’t be sure, but as he studied the group, Jem thought that a smudge on the ground next to them looked as though it had a tail.
He swallowed and looked across at Tolly, who was staring intently at the picture.
“Now do you see?” said Ann, adding crisply, “this book is hundreds of years old, but the artist seems to have caught us all perfectly.”
The children were quiet and then Jericho spoke. “But what does it mean?”
Ann snapped the book shut. “Well, I can’t be sure, but I—”
“We haven’t got time for this!” said Jem jumping to his feet. “We’re sitting here talking about old prophecies and dark gods and Watchers, but that doesn’t help us get any closer to stopping Cazalon and the plotters! We have this map as evidence – and that roll of paper over there is a contract with their names signed on it. I say we must tell someone immediately, before London gets burned to the ground!”
The tent was silent for a moment, then Tolly spoke quietly.
“Who can we go to, Jem? Who would listen to us? The plotters are some of the most powerful people in the land. Even the king is their friend.”
“Then that’s exactly who we should go to. I’m taking these to the palace right now,” said Jem, gathering the map and the contract from the floor.
Tolly snorted. “Do you really think they’ll let you into the palace, let alone allow you to see the king? Forgive me, but you look – and smell – like a beggar, Jem. If you’re lucky they’ll merely laugh at you, but more likely you’ll be whipped… or worse.”
Jem was furious. “We can’t just sit here eating stew and telling stories! How else can we stop them? I know I might look like a beggar, but—” He stopped suddenly. “Of course!”
Jem looked over at Gabriel. “Your players are to be the entertainment at the king’s end-of-summer revels at the palace, aren’t they?”
Gabriel slapped his thigh and laughed. It was a deep rich sound. “You’re right, lad. A group of us are moving into the palace in two days’ time – September the first. We’ve been practising our play for days now. We can certainly take you with us, inside in one of the wagons. But after that…”
“We’re coming too, Gabriel. Jem’s not going alone,” said Ann. “You’ll have to take us all in with you. Isn’t that right, Tolly?” She was on her feet now, her little pointed face determined. “This is about all three of us – the prophecy says so – only the moon child, the black traveller and the boy of jade can bind him – we must stay together. I won’t—”
Ann broke off as Cleo shrieked and scampered from Tolly’s feet to hide behind a pile of cushions. The monkey cowered and shielded her eyes. Ann looked down.
“What is it? What frightened her?” asked Tolly.
“I’m not sure Tolly, there’s nothing here… As I was saying, we have to do this together. I don’t know what the prophecy means, but I do know it’s about us, all three of us. And Jem’s right – we have the contract as evidence,” Ann continued, picking up the roll of paper.
She screamed.
The contract in her hands began to writhe and lengthen, and as it did so it coiled itself around her arm. Ann yelped in pain as it transformed into a pallid, wormlike creature and wound itself tighter and tighter. She tried to pull it off with her free hand, but as she tugged furiously the thing reared up. It had no eyes.
Jem was rooted to the spot in shock.
As the worm wavered in front of Ann’s face, something like a red mouth opened, revealing rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth. Jem realised he’d seen a creature just like it in a jar at Malfurneaux Place.
“No!” yelled Tolly, snapping Jem out of his daze.
“Wait! Stand back!” Jem took careful aim and hurled the silver jewel in his hand through the smoke of the fire. The crescent gleamed and sang as it flew across the tent, scything across the creature’s body just below the hideous gaping mouth.
The head fell to the floor and a second later Ann crumpled to the ground – still clutching the contract. Beside her, the huge wax seal now lay severed from the rest of the document, with the red ribbon that attached it cut in two. There was stunned silence.
Then Cleo chirped softly and crept from her hiding place. She nuzzled Ann and batted the rolled contract between her paws. The monkey looked up, chattered again and pulled at the ribbons.
> “You all right, lass?” said Gabriel, “What was that… that thing?”
Ann smiled weakly. “I think I’d prefer not to know.” She gingerly unrolled the contract and scanned the writing. When she looked up, her face was even paler. “This isn’t a business contract at all. At least, it’s not the business contract they thought they were signing.”
She pointed at the signatures. “All these men have promised to give Cazalon their souls. And they’ve signed the bond in their own blood.”
She shuddered.
Gabriel bent down, picked up the contract and handed it to Jem. “Whatever this infernal thing might or might not be, there’s one thing I’m certain of,” he said. “It’s evidence of treason and somehow, lad, you must get it to the king.”
“But just now, what I’m most certain of is that we all need rest,” he continued, pointing to the door. “If it’s all right with you, Jem, you’ll share with Tolly here. Try to sleep, lad. You’re going to need your wits about you in the palace.”
Jem nodded gratefully. Suddenly he felt exhausted.
“You’ll have to wash first, mind,” Gabriel continued, his brown eyes twinkling. “You won’t get within a yard of King Charles if you smell like a privy. People turn their noses up at us player folk as it is, we don’t need your stink to make it worse!”
As Jem looked at Gabriel’s big friendly face, an idea popped into his head. There was an obvious way to deliver the evidence straight to the king – right into his hands in fact – but he would have to involve his friends, Gabriel and all the players.
As the others settled down to sleep, Jem went over and over the plan in his head. It was direct and simple, but it would put all of their lives in danger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jem wiped grime from his forehead. He was perched at the front of one of Gabriel’s player wagons as it rumbled along the city street towards the gate leading out to the palace at Whitehall. The hot, dry air was thick with dust. Great piles of muck and slurry, left uncleared, crusted even the most prosperous roads and made the city smell like a giant privy. All around, men and women went about their business holding their noses against the stench, some carrying little bunches of flowers or handkerchiefs drenched in scent to ward off the great stink.
