The Scar-Crow Men soa-2

by Mark Chadbourn

  ‘Here, in Nonsuch?’ Grace asked incredulously, her eyes still sleepy at that early hour.

  ‘Especially here. Our Enemy has placed agents among us. People we once relied upon may now be working against us. No one can be trusted. Do you understand?’

  Concerned now, Grace and Nathaniel nodded.

  It was 4 June, three days since Kit had been laid in the ground. After their hard ride from London, Will, Launceston and Carpenter had slipped past the dozing guards into the still-sleeping palace. Speeding through the empty halls, Will had woken his assistant and the lady-in-waiting to warn them of what was unfolding.

  ‘For now, I would that the two of you remain safe,’ he continued. ‘At the first sign of trouble, leave the palace.’ He turned to Grace and added, ‘Go with Nat, to the village where his father lives. I will meet you both there if I can. In the meantime, I have work for you.’

  Alert now, the assistant ran a hand through his unruly hair. ‘Tell me, I am ready.’

  ‘Go to my chamber and retrieve Kit’s play. My hope is that the cipher will reveal important information to help us to uncover the plot.’ Will stepped away from the window when a girl collecting eggs for the morning meal glanced up as if she had heard something.

  ‘You have broken the code?’ Nathaniel asked.

  Will smiled tightly. ‘In the beginning was the word, and the word was poison.’ He went to the chamber door and opened it a crack, peering out into the still corridor. Turning back to his worried friends, he added in a hushed voice, ‘Now, return to your business and keep up the pretence of normal life. At all times, you must act as if you know nothing. Do not draw attention to yourselves. Keep safe.’

  Easing into the sun-dappled corridor, Will found Carpenter and Launceston skulking at the top of the stairs where he had left them. The clatter of feet and the call of friendly voices told them the palace was rapidly waking.

  ‘Visit Robert Rowland,’ Will whispered. ‘He was always a faithful servant to Sir Francis Walsingham, and as the keeper of the records of our business he will be able to locate what event united Kit and Griffin Devereux. Then perhaps we can get to the bottom of this matter before we end up at the bottom of a hole in the earth. And if the worst happens and I am taken, it will be down to you to bring a stop to this plot.’

  ‘Two men against the Unseelie Court,’ Carpenter laughed bitterly. ‘And should we stop the Spanish at the same time, just for sport?’

  ‘In your spare time, find who has been murdering the spies,’ Will continued sardonically, clapping the Earl on the shoulder. ‘Robert, I feel you have an understanding of the mind of the man who kills.’

  Launceston nodded thoughtfully. ‘He has strong tastes, certainly, and a fire that burns brightly in his mind. I will try to divine the way he thinks.’

  Will shook the other men’s hands in turn. ‘We have been down in the ditches for a long while, but now is the time to stand and be men. To business, friends, and if that business involves blood, so be it.’

  At the sound of two giggling maids climbing the creaking stairs, the three spies separated, Will striding purposefully towards Cecil’s chamber. For once the spymaster’s bodyguard, Sinclair, was not smoking sullenly outside the door, casting a murderous eye over anyone who dared approach his master’s room. Without knocking, Will entered.

  Cecil was leaning across a table scattered with charts of Ireland, sheaves of paper and the remnants of scrambled eggs and bread. He started when he saw Will, his eyes darting uneasily to the spy’s rapier. ‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’ he hissed.

  ‘We must talk,’ Will said in a grave voice.

  ‘The time for talking is long gone. The Privy Council meets this morning to discuss your fate. Although, I would say, it was sealed the moment you decided not to honour them with your presence yesterday.’

  ‘There is more at stake here than my fate, or yours, for that matter.’ Seeing the window was open, Will went to close it so they would not be overheard. As the spy pulled it shut, the Little Elf darted around the table in an attempt to escape. Will was between him and the door in an instant, holding up one hand ready to push the frightened man back to the table if necessary.

  ‘Lay a finger on me and your punishment will be great indeed,’ Cecil said in a tremulous voice.

  ‘You have already told me my fate is sealed, and it is not wise to confront a man who has nothing to lose.’ Will calmed himself, snapping his fingers until his master retreated. ‘We have had our differences, you and I,’ he continued. ‘You have little respect for me, or the work I have done — I do not know why. But we must put all that behind us. We are on the brink of disaster. While we have looked elsewhere, to Spain, and France, and Ireland, the Unseelie Court have been quietly circling us. Their plans have fallen into place, unnoticed, unsuspected, and now an attack is imminent. Indeed, they may already have won and we race around like a hen who has not yet realized her head has been removed.’

  Regaining his composure, the spymaster strode back to the table, refusing to dignify Will with attention.

  ‘I am still unsure if you are a part of this plot, but I am trusting my instinct, which has never failed me before,’ the spy said. ‘You are sly, manipulative, mendacious, and interested above all else in your own advancement, but I do not believe you would ever side with our greatest foe. True?’

  Cecil flashed a sullen glare.

  ‘Agents of the Enemy lurk within this court, perhaps people you yourself trust. They could turn on all of us, on the Queen herself, at any moment,’ Will said. ‘Our only hope is to strike like snakes and drive them out. This very day. I risk everything to be here, now, making this plea, and so should you, Sir Robert. Take control. Lead our resistance, and I will stand at your side. Her Majesty needs you. England needs you.’

  His shoulders sagging, the spymaster rested both hands on the table and bowed his head. ‘You will not judge me. Unlike you, I must fight for my own survival on a daily basis. There are men who move against me, and there always will be. This plot you mention …’ He waved a hand in the air as if all he had heard was a trifle. ‘If it distracts Essex, then all is well and good. But I have heard nothing of it, and I hear and see more than you.’

  ‘You hear and see what you want.’ Will’s voice crackled with anger. ‘You are distracted by your own ambitions while England falls around you. Failure to act will mean a defeat from which we can never, ever recover.’

  ‘If I act as you say and we fail, or no one else joins this crusade of yours, then my power is weakened,’ Cecil snapped. ‘Better to wait until the path ahead is clear.’

  ‘That will be too late.’ Will felt a rising tide of hopelessness. ‘I beseech you, heed me. There is still time to act. If we can find a few trusted allies-’

  The hunchbacked man hammered a fist on the table, over-turning a pot of ink that flooded a black stain across one of his charts. ‘You have been driven mad by your grief for Marlowe. You see plots where there are none, to give meaning to his death.’

  Will drew himself up, his face stony. ‘Very well. Then I must act alone, and you, God help you, must accept the consequences.’

  The door burst open with a resounding crash. Twelve figures filed in, most of them black-gowned with black caps, their faces severe. Among the clutch, Will recognized Lord Derby of the Privy Council, Roger Cockayne, one of Cecil’s advisers, and Danby the coroner, and one woman too: Elinor Makepiece, the Queen’s maid of honour.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ the spymaster barked.

  ‘Sir Robert, leave us, if you will,’ Derby said in a low, stern voice.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the Little Elf scurried out of his own chamber with one uneasy backward glance at the door.

  Coward, Will thought.

  The spy looked along the row of faces, all of them unreadable, but the eyes glittered with a cold light. ‘So now you step out of the shadows,’ he began, his hand moving towards the hilt of his rapier.

 
In an instant, those implacable faces transformed as one into seething pits of fury. Mouths tore wide like those of wild beasts, teeth bared and spittle flying, and with a furious roar the men that had become beasts swooped down on Will Swyfte.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Clutching two large volumes to his chest, Robert Rowland, record-keeper to successive spymasters, entered his chamber with a bowed head as though he had a lifetime’s problems balanced on his shoulders. The lines on his forehead were stark against his sallow skin, his face muscles sagging so he looked as if he had suffered a palsy.

  Chests and towers of books, bundles of documents tied with black ribbons and dog-eared charts covered the floor of the cramped, dusty chamber. The stale air smelled of vinegary sweat, the rushes unchanged in days.

  ‘Master Rowland. We feared we might miss you.’ Almost hidden behind a pile of books and parchments on the trestle, Carpenter lounged in the record-keeper’s chair. Launceston stood at the window, his back to the room, looking out over the inner ward.

  In shock, Rowland cried out and dropped the two books.

  ‘We offer our apologies for this intrusion,’ came the Earl’s monotone from the window. ‘But matters are pressing, and politeness must wait its turn.’

  ‘What do you want?’ the record-keeper stuttered, gathering up the volumes and heaving them on to the only remaining space at the edge of the table. ‘Did Secretary Cecil send you?’

  Carpenter gave a faint smile, hidden quickly. ‘Of course. Would we be here for any other reason?’

  The Earl turned, tracing one finger through the silvery dust on a large volume. ‘We seek to inspect the records of our former master, Sir Francis Walsingham, in particular those pertaining to the work carried out by Christopher Marlowe. Our interest lies in any task where he may have been accompanied by one Griffin Devereux. I understand accounts were kept of every matter of business carried out under instruction from Sir Francis?’

  ‘They were.’ Distracted, Rowland searched through a heap of parchments for a quill. ‘Every piece of business conducted at home and on foreign soil. But you cannot inspect them.’

  Carpenter jumped to his feet, knocking over a set of leathery books. Two silverfish scurried out from a spine. ‘You would deny us?’

  ‘I would deny you nothing, of course,’ the record-keeper replied, unsettled by the scarred man’s threatening demeanour. ‘But I no longer have those records. They went missing on the day of Sir Francis’ death.’

  Launceston prowled around the table to take Rowland by the shoulders. ‘Who took them?’ he demanded.

  ‘I do not know. I came to put them in order after the body had been interred and there was no sign of them. I could only imagine that Lord Burghley had ordered them to be removed for safe-keeping, but when I asked him, he had no knowledge of it.’ Rowland pulled gently away from the Earl’s grasp. ‘I am sorry. I would help you if I could.’

  Launceston exchanged a glance with Carpenter. ‘Will was right. This plot has been in motion for years, and the track has been well covered.’

  Raised voices echoed from the ground floor, punctuated by angry shouts and the cries of women. Exchanging a silent glance, Carpenter and Launceston bolted from the record-keeper’s chamber. Outside the door, the two men ran straight into a concerned Nathaniel.

  As they hurried along the corridor towards the source of the disturbance, the assistant slipped between the spies without meeting their gaze and hissed from the corner of his mouth, ‘Will’s chamber has been ransacked. Everything of value has been taken, including the play. I saw Roger Cockayne, one of Sir Robert Cecil’s advisers, leaving with the sheaf of papers.’

  ‘Damn them,’ Carpenter growled. ‘You must do whatever you can to retrieve that play. The information it contains could well be crucial, especially now.’

  The raised voices rang off the stone walls. Inquisitive servants and curious ladies and gentlemen of the court streamed from chambers on either side, eager to discover what was causing the outcry.

  ‘If you value your life you will not fail,’ Launceston whispered.

  ‘You do not need to threaten me,’ Nathaniel replied. ‘I am driven by my duty to Will, not fear.’ The assistant slipped into the flow of curious people as they neared the top of the broad stone staircase that swept down into the entrance hall.

  Standing at the back on tiptoes was Alice, her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the ovens, her apron white with dust from that morning’s baking. Her face lit up when she saw the scarred spy. His own face fell.

  Carpenter eased in beside his love and whispered, ‘Alice, you must stay away from me from now on. I am a liability that will cost you your life.’ Although he knew it was right to distance himself, he still felt heartsick and couldn’t bring himself to look her in the face.

  Yet when Alice turned her head slightly to whisper in his ear, her voice was defiant. ‘I will do as I please. You may think yourself my master, but that is not the case. Yes, I will take care — I know the work you do is dangerous — but I survived my last brush with adventure, John, and I will survive the next. That is what love means.’

  Afraid for her, Carpenter returned his attention to the commotion unfolding near the large, iron-studded door in the entrance hall. With Launceston beside him, he edged forward until he glimpsed a battered Will. Two of Essex’s spies gripped his arms and the point of Strangewayes’ rapier was pressed over his heart. Carpenter began to despair.

  Hands clasped behind his back, the Earl of Essex strutted around his men, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes held a note of triumph as he gazed at the shorter, black-gowned figure of Cecil cowering on the edge of the group. For the first time the spymaster looked uneasy, if not frightened, Carpenter thought.

  A defiant glint in his eye, Will stood proud and erect, his smile revealing no fear. ‘I came here to warn of a plot against our Queen by our greatest enemy,’ he announced. ‘I will gladly go before the Privy Council to tell all that I know. We must be on our guard-’

  Strangewayes cracked the hilt of his rapier into his rival’s face, stunning Will for a moment. ‘Enough of your lies!’ the red-headed man spat. ‘You will not wriggle out of this. Your past has caught up with you.’

  Spattering blood on those nearby as he shook his head, Will reclaimed his wits. ‘I do not lie,’ he stated in a loud voice, ‘and I will risk further punishment, even death, to tell the truth of what I have discovered. We are beset by enemies on all sides.’

  The red-headed spy struck Will again with the hilt of his sword.

  And then Carpenter noticed something that chilled him. All around, men with faces like whips were whispering in the ears of Essex and Cecil and most of the other Privy Councillors. Danby the coroner was there, passing comment, and Lord Derby, pink, broken-veined cheeks above his grey whiskers, moved among his fellows with a nod and a quiet word. Carpenter could think of only one thing.

  Scar-Crow Men.

  Shaping views. Infecting thoughts with sly words. Twisting the outcome to whatever would lead to victory for the Unseelie Court.

  The scar-faced spy’s heart began to pound. He glanced at Launceston and saw the grim-faced Earl was thinking the same. Carpenter began to suspect every face he looked into. How many agents were there? Who could be trusted?

  A rush of urgent whispers swept through the crowd from the direction of the door leading to the palace’s long eastern range. A wave of bowing heads followed.

  Rustling a cloak of gold edged with ermine, the Queen stepped into the entrance hall accompanied by one of her maids of honour. Carpenter recognized the maid’s plain looks and thick brown hair, but couldn’t place her name. Elinor somebody or other, he thought. Elizabeth’s face was a mask of white powder, but the scarred spy thought there was an odd cast to her features, a little dreamy as if she had only just woken.

  ‘What is the meaning of this outcry?’ the monarch demanded. Elinor stood unusually close to her mistress, her face turned towards the Queen�
�s left ear.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Will replied before any other could speak, ‘I rode to Nonsuch this morning to warn of a plot against you, and against all of England.’

  ‘A plot, Master Swyfte?’ Elizabeth eyed the blood dripping from the spy’s nose. ‘Why is this the first I hear of this matter?’

  ‘Because we do not seek to trouble Your Majesty with outrageous lies and calumnies,’ Essex said with a flamboyant sweep of his arm. The monarch smiled at her most trusted courtier.

  ‘Your Majesty, I implore you to listen to what I have to say,’ Will pressed.

  The Queen’s eyes flashed at his impudence; one warning was all the spy would be allowed, Carpenter knew, and that only because he had been in Elizabeth’s favour. ‘Secretary of State,’ she snapped. ‘Master Swyfte is in your employ. What do you have to say?’

  Cecil cast a dark glance towards the grinning Essex while he gathered his thoughts. Carpenter could almost see his master squirming as he struggled to find a way out of his predicament.

  Here is your chance, at the last, Carpenter thought. Stand up and offer your support for the man who has served you faithfully.

  ‘I have listened intently to the allegations of conspiracy made by this man,’ the spymaster began in a clear voice, ‘but I cannot say I find any truth in them.’

  For a moment, Carpenter thought the Queen was about to dismiss the comment, but then he saw Elinor’s lips move, only slightly, her words unheard. Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, a faint expression of bafflement springing to her face. She said in a quiet voice, ‘What do you advise, my Little Elf?’

  Cecil quickly extinguished the relief in his eyes and feigned thoughtfulness, one finger to his chin. ‘There is some suggestion of treason in Master Swyfte’s actions, certainly, Your Majesty, though that would be a matter for the Privy Council to consider. And the earlier charge of atheism remains, of course. For those reasons, I feel the Tower may be the preferred option, while evidence is gathered and a case prepared.’