It was then that one of Cecil’s men in the wherry half stumbled as he edged towards the stone steps. He clutched on to the side to stop himself from pitching into the drink, but his velvet cap fell on to the water. ‘Steady-o!’ the older waterman called in irritation, spluttering through a mouthful of sack he had swigged from a skin. The burly guard growled a curse under his breath and leaned over the side to reclaim his sodden headgear from where it floated on the black water.
Will felt his chest tighten, though he did not know why; some instinct perhaps, honed in his constant fight for survival. ‘Leave it,’ he yelled. He felt Cecil’s reproving gaze upon him, but his own was fixed on the guard’s hand reaching towards his hat.
As the man’s fingers brushed the inky surface, the river boiled all around. The man gaped at the churning water that rocked the wherry, and then sudden, rapid movement erupted. Screaming, the guard pitched on to his back in the bottom of the boat. The senior oarsman dropped his skin of sack, whirling. Now Cecil gaped. ‘What in God’s name—’
The waters became as calm as they had been a moment earlier, but the guard continued to scream and thrash in the bottom of the wherry. The waterman leaned over him, his eyes widening in horror. Will bounded down the stone steps and leapt into the rocking boat, thrusting the oarsman to one side. He knelt beside the guard, whose struggles were easing as shock took hold of him.
The man had lost his right hand. He pawed feebly at the stump with his left, moaning. Teeth had ripped through flesh and bone, Will saw. He had heard tell of a pike in a pool in Kent that could consume a man, and of sharks, the wolves of the sea, one of which John Hawkins had brought back to a horrified reception in London after his second expedition. Yet such a monstrous creature in the peaceful Thames? Never had he heard of such a thing.
As he inspected the wound, he realized there was no flow of blood and the surrounding skin had taken on a greyish cast. Puzzled, he brushed the forearm with his fingertips only to recoil in shock. The flesh was frozen solid. He recalled Carpenter and Launceston’s account of the soldier turned to ice at the water’s edge only a few nights earlier and felt a sick realization dawn inside him.
‘What is wrong with the fool?’ Cecil barked, a faint tremor lacing his words.
Will peered over the side of the wherry, his skin prickling. The still water was black and impenetrable.
Turning to the oarsman, he said, ‘See this poor soul is cared for. I fear he will not survive this torment.’ With renewed purpose, he leapt back up the stone steps and raced past Cecil, who waved his arms in confusion. Catching hold of one of the labourers, he snapped, ‘Find Captain Prouty. Tell him the plans have changed. The Gauntlet must be made ready to sail as soon as possible. If we are short of provisions, so be it. We will have to survive with empty bellies until we reach our destination. But dawn is too late. Do you understand?’
The labourer shook off his slow-witted expression, nodded earnestly, and ran towards the inn, his shoes cracking on the cobbles. Will turned as Cecil hurried up to him, breathless and angry that he had been ignored. ‘I must take the Charm Boat back to the other bank,’ Will said before the spymaster could speak. ‘I have urgent business to conclude before we sail.’
‘Speak to me, Swyfte,’ Cecil roared, shaking his fists in the air. ‘What is happening?’
Will looked towards the mist-shrouded water but thought only of the silent night-world beneath its surface. ‘We thought ourselves untouched. We believed we had time on our side. But the war is already under way and our advantage long since gone.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND, nat? lives are depending on you.’ Will tried to keep the crack of disquiet out of his voice. His young assistant blinked, bleary-eyed from being woken, and turned away from Will to find his shoes at the end of the bed.
‘Riding hard, I will be at Tilbury in no time,’ he said. He glanced back at his master, stung by what he perceived to be an understated criticism. ‘I have never let you down before.’
‘I could not have wished for a better assistant. The need for urgency is more to do with the severity of unfolding events than any reflection on your abilities.’ Will softened, thinking back to how inexperienced his assistant had been when his father had entrusted him to the spy’s employ. Angry at being torn from his village life and thrust into a dangerous world where he was never allowed to ask any questions, Nathaniel had grown into the job, and learned a maturity beyond his years, though his tongue remained as sharp as ever. Will trusted him more than any other man, and took his vow to protect him with the utmost seriousness. Never had he revealed any hint of the Unseelie Court or the threat they represented. For Nathaniel, the world was still a sunny place where things happened as they ought, and in that way he was kept from a life of madness in Bedlam.
Nat perched on the edge of the bed, still eyeing his master askance. ‘It troubles me when your tongue is not sharp. Am I still lost in dreams? Or are you awash with sack and still seduced by the honeyed words of some doxy at Liz Longshanks’s?’
‘I can find some words to lash you with, if that gives you comfort, Nat.’ Will strode to the window and peered out over the palace, no longer sleeping. Candlelight gleamed in window after window, with new flames flickering to life by the moment. The fog hung heavy over the secret courtyards and maze of shadowed paths among the grand buildings, muffling the shouts of the sentries on the walls and the tread of marching pikemen preparing for a threat that none of them truly comprehended.
‘No, let me savour this moment.’ His shoes on, Nathaniel rose and took a steadying breath. ‘Yes, this must be how employment is for every other man. Apart from the being woken in the middle of the night to risk my life on rogue-infested byways without a crust to break my fast.’
Will looked back at the young man and saw the innocence that still nestled in his heart. He almost remembered how that used to feel. ‘Nat, you have been a good and loyal servant . . .’ he began.
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘And there you go again. What, have I been consigned to the block and no one told me?’
‘Hear me out. I promised your father that I would guide you and keep you safe. In truth, I have learned as much from you and your honest, hopeful nature as you ever have from me,’ Will said, choosing his words carefully. ‘But now I have taught you all I can, and after this task is complete I release you from my service.’
Nathaniel looked as if he’d been slapped. ‘Have I wronged you in some way?’
‘You have exceeded all expectations, Nat. This is a reward, not a punishment.’ Will smiled to soften the blow, but he felt a pang of sadness that he had to turn his back on his faithful assistant after all they had shared.
‘What if I do not wish to leave your service? Do my views matter?’
Will turned back to the window to avoid his assistant’s hurt gaze. ‘I plan to write a letter of recommendation that will gain you any position in London that you would wish for,’ he continued. ‘You have lived with danger long enough. You deserve to make a life for yourself where there is some material reward. A wife, children. Peace. Not this business of sweat and blood and shadows.’
Nathaniel started to speak, but Will silenced him with a hand and sent him on his way. He knew the curt dismissal had wounded Nat, but if he had allowed any space the young man would have woven a tissue of words, of argument and protest. There was little time for that, and no point. Much as he would miss his friend, and he would, greatly, he had spoken truly; this was the best reward he could offer Nathaniel: hope, freedom and the opportunity for a fresh start.
Drawing a stool to the trestle in one corner, he took the quill and ink-pot and by the light of the candle flame wrote the letter of recommendation. His name at the bottom, alone, would buy Nathaniel a good future. Even that did not feel enough.
Once done, he put aside his regrets and raced to the Black Gallery, where Carpenter was drinking sullenly by the roaring fire. Launceston paced the room in
silence like some ghastly revenant. Will told them what had taken place at Greenwich. The two spies grasped the implications without any need for explanation and together the three men made their way through the fog to the palace’s River Gate.
Kneeling on the jetty, Carpenter peered at the black ripples lapping against the posts. ‘What foulness now resides here?’ he asked.
‘Something with teeth which carries with it the bitter cold of winter,’ Will replied. ‘You would do well to keep your face away from the water if you do not wish to be left with a permanent grin. Find Strangewayes, and then make ready a wherry to take us to Greenwich. I have one final piece of business to attend to, and by then Captain Prouty should be ready to sail.’
‘Hrrrm,’ Launceston mused as he peered into the fog. ‘Is it wise to take to the water?’
‘We do not have the time to cross the bridge and ride along the bank to Greenwich. The river is faster, and no vessel has been disturbed.’
‘So far,’ the Earl replied.
Will left the two men to select one of the boats tied to the pier and went in search of Grace. But as he hurried through the still palace corridors to where the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting slept, she found him first. He saw in an instant that trouble awaited him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes blazed. Wrapped in an emerald cloak, she strode up to him and snapped, ‘I have just seen Nat. He is concerned for you. I fear for your sanity.’
‘Grace—’
‘Do not play games with me. I am no fool.’ She thrust her face towards his. ‘Nat is a good man, and although he has spent long years at your side he has not grasped the true twisted paths your own mind follows.’
‘And you have,’ Will said, remaining calm.
‘At some level, we were joined by the tragedy of my sister’s disappearance, Will Swyfte. That terrible event set us apart from the rest of the world, yet in its shared misery bonded us. Yes, I do know how you think. I know what shapes you, what drives you, whatever face you present to the world: a hero loved by all; a drunken fool; a rake who fornicates with doxies. I see the sadness and the hardness and the determination. And when you give Nat such a glorious reward, I know it means only one thing: that you believe you are sailing off to die.’
Grace’s perception caught Will off-guard and for a moment he could not find the words to respond. A bleak smile leapt to her lips when she saw that she was right, but her expression quickly darkened.
‘Grace, do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.’
‘You have dwelt in the shadow of Jenny’s disappearance for so long that you can no longer see the light. You welcome death as a release from your pain.’
‘I sail to rescue Dr Dee, not to end my own existence.’
He saw the determination in her face, the echo of the elder sister he loved, and that only lacerated him more. ‘We have been close, you and I, and there was a time when I wished us to be closer still,’ she said. ‘And now you would come here and bid me farewell as if you were only crossing the river to drink in Bankside? I deserve better.’
‘You always did, Grace, but I gave you only what I could. Let us part in a manner that will bring us both some comfort in the weeks and months ahead, not with harsh words that we will come to regret.’ He would miss her, and Nat too, and all of London, but he had lived in the half-world for too long. He could not go on that way. For good or ill, there had to be an ending.
‘Very well,’ she said, stepping forward to kiss him on the cheek, ‘but you must vow to do all in your power to return to me—’
‘Step away from her!’
Will turned to see Strangewayes standing at the end of the corridor, his rapier drawn. The red-headed spy looked furious. Will sighed.
‘Tobias, it is not as it appears,’ Grace began, but jealousy seemed to consume the other man. He ran towards them.
Will drew his own blade and parried the younger man’s wild thrust. ‘Sheathe your weapon. You are acting like some wounded child,’ he snapped, adding, baffled, ‘Why do you behave in this manner?’
That merely drove Strangewayes to greater rage. ‘You know Grace keeps a flame for you in her heart and you trifle with her affections to swell the head of the great Will Swyfte. Do you care for no one but yourself?’
‘Curb your tongue. You will regret this outburst.’
‘England’s greatest spy,’ Strangewayes sneered. ‘What a confection that is. You are a wastrel and your time is done. I am the future.’ He thrust again, with more care this time. Will deflected the attack once again. The other spy had some skill, Will saw, but it was still raw. Given time he would be as great as he imagined himself to be now.
‘Tobias, if you love me as you say you do, end this,’ Grace demanded angrily. ‘You are mistaken in your suspicions.’
But Will saw that Strangewayes’ hurt pride would not let him back down. In a flash, he clashed rapiers, spinning the other man off-balance, and then cuffed him on the right ear. Strangewayes crashed against the wall, dazed. ‘Your heart is in the right place, if your head is not,’ Will said. ‘I am glad you love Grace enough to risk your neck, but this is a futile display. Everything we have fought for now hangs by a thread and I do not have the time to knock sense into you. If you continue to fight, I will run you through and leave you here to die, though Grace hate me for evermore. Do you understand?’
Strangewayes glared, but the defiance had been knocked out of him. Will turned back to Grace and took her hand. ‘Fare you well, Grace. I hope we will see each other again.’ Tears sprang to her eyes.
‘Tell her,’ Strangewayes pleaded when he saw her sadness. ‘Tell her what we face.’
‘Silence,’ Will snapped, allowing the threat to surface in his eyes.
‘She deserves to know the truth. No stories for children. No false comforts. Tell her, so she can put her thoughts in order if we do not return—’
‘I said silence.’ Will flicked the tip of his rapier to Strangewayes’ throat. ‘You are young. You have only just learned the secret knowledge that we share, the knowledge that can destroy good-minded people.’
‘I have considered this matter greatly while at prayer. Grace is strong enough.’
Will dug the tip of the blade deeper, raising a bubble of blood. ‘You think you are doing her a kindness, but it is only cruelty. I say one final time, silence.’
‘Very well. But now it is my turn to say goodbye.’
Will watched the other man’s face. He wondered briefly if it wouldn’t be simpler to kill him there and then, but then Grace took his wrist and gently eased his sword away. ‘He will not tell me your secrets, dear Will,’ she murmured. ‘I will not allow him to.’
Will held her gaze for a long moment. He felt a deep affection, and only wanted her to be happy. He thought that perhaps she understood. Putting up his sword, he walked away without another word. In the shadows at the end of the corridor, he glanced back. Strangewayes held her in an embrace, whispering in her ear. He was not the man Will would have chosen for her, but he loved her, and at that moment, that seemed enough.
Back at the jetty, Carpenter and Launceston argued, pacing around each other like dogs preparing to fight. They grew silent when they saw Will and clambered into the wherry, where a lantern glowed on a pole in the prow. Carpenter eyed the water with unease. The Earl hummed tunelessly as he selected an oar. A moment later, Strangewayes joined them in sullen silence, flashing one unguarded look at Will as he found a place beneath the lantern. He pulled the hood of his cloak up and kept his head down.
‘Take us out into the current,’ Will said, ‘but have a care as we ride the fast water at the bridge. A dip will bring more than a chill to our bones.’
‘Do you lie awake at night searching for increasingly elaborate ways to kill us?’ Carpenter grumbled, undoing the rope tied to the quayside ring. He grasped another oar and pushed the wherry out into the flow.
‘My intention is to keep your days interesting, John.’ Will crouched in the bottom of the
wherry and peered into the dark water.
The bank faded into the fog. As the grey enveloped them, the lapping of the river grew muffled and distorted. Will cocked his head and looked around, but he could neither see nor hear any sign of the greatest city in Europe. They could have been alone in all England, drifting through a wilderness.
Carpenter and Launceston heaved slow, measured strokes, each man watching the point where his blade dipped into the river as if he expected the oar to be torn from his grasp.
When they had moved downstream in silence for a few moments, Strangewayes wrenched to one side and pointed. ‘There!’
Will felt an eddy that rocked the wherry.
‘’Twas the length of a seal at least,’ Strangewayes said with unease. ‘Perhaps larger still. I saw grey skin just break the surface.’
‘There too.’ Launceston pointed on the other side of the boat. ‘It swims fast, to circle us so quickly.’
‘No,’ Will said, looking around. ‘Not one. Many. See.’
In the circle of lantern-light round the prow, they saw repeated rapid movement at the surface. The wherry rocked more vigorously. All around, the sound of splashing echoed.
‘They are like salmon at spawn,’ Carpenter said. ‘Have we disturbed them in our passing?’
‘Not fish,’ Strangewayes whispered, leaning back.
Will moved to the prow and leaned over the edge. Grey shapes flashed past, arching their bodies and rolling near the surface before diving down. He fixed his gaze until one passed in front of him. He saw a face that was human in shape, though longer and thinner than most men’s, with hollow cheeks and huge, lidless eyes. Straggly hair, like seaweed, streamed down from the top of the skull-like head. Yet it was the mouth that burned in Will’s mind: lipless, with two rows of needle-sharp teeth forming a permanent grimace.
Sharp enough to tear off a man’s hand, he thought.
The skin was pale, merging into mottled grey. And as the unearthly creature darted from view, he caught a glimpse of an eel-like lower body ending in fins.
The Devil's Looking-Glass Page 9
