"Can you hear me, Lucy?" asked Walsingham, softly.
She turned crystalline eyes upon him. "Yes, Uncle. It's still me in here."
Lucy walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Walsingham never flinched. He caressed her glowing face. Simon felt fierce pride that he was servant to such a man. All the demons from hell couldn't frighten Walsingham. "I love you," she said, and he smiled at her.
"Show him your blade, 'ighness," said Gwilym.
Lucy pulled out her dagger, Dee's dagger. It shone with energy. The glyphs on the blade glowed bright red.
"I saw 'er kill a demon with that. She saved my life and who knows 'ow many others. Regular little demon-killer aren't you, 'ighness."
"Convinced, Dee?" asked Walsingham.
"Completely," said Dee. The power in Lucy faded and she became just Lucy again.
"I have never seen anything like that," said Dee, excitedly. "I have seen possession where a demon inhabits and takes over a human body but I have never seen such controlled power. Possessed people slaughter their friends and family before dying horribly. What has happened to you, milady, is entirely new to science."
"Lucy, what do you understand Lilith to be?" asked Walsingham
'Yes, what do you think I am, Lucy?' thought Lilith.
"She is a traveller from a far Other World who got trapped here by Isabella, in what to her is a wilderness. Lilith cannot live in our world independent of me, as it lacks essential nourishment that she needs. She is very wise and knowledgeable. She is not evil and wishes me well. The Other World that is her home is dark like a cave. There are many of her kind there. She cannot leave me without killing me. In return for possessing my body, she has made it strong and fast. I heal quickly and cannot suffer disease. Mirrors can be portals to the Otherworlds; there are many types of portal incidentally. Lilith, herself, can create them."
Lucy looked carefully at her uncle. "Lilith is kind, considerate, brave, and loyal. I like her."
Lilith said nothing. She did not know what to say.
"Does that sound likely, Dee?" asked Walsingham.
"Yes," he replied. "We imagine one Other World but it is clear that it is divided up in some way. Lilith, as described by Lucy, is very different from the demons we know but that is easily possible. In some ways, she seems more like an angel. The ignorant think of angels as God's little helpers but angels can be terrible. I have always wanted to talk to an angel. Think what one could learn," said Dee, wistfully. "The lost Book of Enoch contains the guide to the tongue of angels, could we but find it."
"Back to the point, Doctor. Tell me about mirrors," said Walsingham, impatiently. Simon knew that once Dee started on Enochian magic he could waffle on for hours. Academics could be so boring.
"You may know, Sir Francis, that Lord Burghley has commissioned a report on the use of mirrors and lenses. Thomas Digges is to investigate their effect on light while I am to summarise our knowledge of the invisible rays. As you know, the Chain of Being is connected from Heaven to the upper layers of stars, through the layer of the sun, then the moon, shooting stars, and so on down to the earth and possibly Hell. The Chain also runs from angels to man, then animals and through plants to the inanimate and demons. Rays connect all the layers; that is how the astrological sciences work. Light is the only one of these rays that we can directly perceive. Light is bent and reflected by crystals and mirrors so we may assume that these objects have the same effect on other rays. That is why we use crystal balls as skrying stones and mirrors to open portals into the Other World."
"And diamonds to make magic," said Lucy.
"I would greatly desire to talk to this Lilith, directly," Dee said.
"Can we do that?" asked Walsingham, surprised.
"We have a mirror, and your niece." Dee shrugged.
"This will not hurt Lucy, will it?" Walsingham asked.
"Not at all," Dee said, reassuringly. He got up and gestured for Lucy to join him.
"Come here, my dear." Dee placed a chair in front of the mirror. "Look carefully at this please." Dee swung a crystal on a chain in front of her. It caught the light and twinkled. "You are very tired. Got to sleep now."
Dee's voice droned on and Simon felt his eyes drooping. Dee snapped his fingers in front of Lucy's eyes but she did not react.
"Come out, Lilith, I summon you. I am of Eve's line. I call upon the ancient pact." Dee repeated the words over and over. The room filled with light and Lucy's reflection in the mirror shimmered. Someone else appeared in the mirror, someone who walked straight out into the room.
Simon looked mouth open at a petite woman with short black hair. She wore a long, sleeveless, blue dress that turned up into a high collar behind her head. Her skin was very pale, like a Dane's, but her eyes were from Cathay and her hair as dark as Africa.
"Holographic technology, how clever." She clapped her hands together. "I didn't know you people could do that. I am Lilith, Lucy's friend."
No one spoke. Simon had no idea what to say. What do you say to a demon, especially one who does not look very demonic? Should not she have horns and claws and things? Maybe the odd fang would have made her seem more authentic. She looked like a foreign princess on her way to a ball.
Dee stretched out his hand to touch her. Her body was completely insubstantial. Dee's hand passed right through her.
"No touching, I am afraid. That's the problem with holograms. What can I do for you gentlemen?" Lilith said, brightly.
"You are the demon Lilith?" asked Walsingham.
"You may call me that. It is Lucy's name for me. You could not pronounce my real name." Lilith smiled.
"Of course, she will not tell us her secret demon name or we would have power over her," Dee said quietly to Walsingham.
Lilith smiled.
"Lilith, Lucy thinks you are her friend," said Walsingham.
"I am her friend. Indeed, she is my only friend. I will protect her with my life," said Lilith.
Simon was always amazed how much loyalty Lucy inspired in those around her. She had subverted the core of the English Secret Service and now, apparently, she was starting to work her charm on the demon realms.
"If you are her friend then you will let her go. Leave her and let her live a normal life," Walsingham urged.
Lilith looked sad. "I cannot, Elder Walsingham."
"We could use magic to force you out," Walsingham said, coldly.
"I beg you not to try. In order to jump from Lucy, I would need energy. My body would suck it from the nearest source automatically. That would be Lucy's body. This is involuntary. I have no control over it. Remember the dog. Please don't make me kill Lucy, Elder Walsingham, I love her."
Walsingham looked flummoxed and Simon did not blame him. They both remembered the agony-twisted form of the puppy. Lilith was not at all what they had expected. Like the experienced interrogator that he was, Walsingham changed tack. "How could you leave Lucy without killing her?"
"I could lock onto an external power source and saturate my body. It would need to be close by. I could leave her safely then and journey home," Lilith said.
"I see," said Walsingham. "I must think further on this."
Lilith's image began to flicker. "The spell is failing," said Dee.
Lilith winked out like an extinguished candle and only Lucy's reflection appeared in the mirror.
"Well, that didn't work," said Lucy. "What! What are you all staring at?"
Act 16
The River Crouch
Burnham-on-Crouch might not be the most miserable town in England but, on a wet afternoon, it made a rather good approximation. The town was perched on what was almost an island in a sea of mud. It boasted a single jetty that ran down far enough across the mudflats to allow loading at all but the lowest spring tides. But Burnham's location on the north bank of the mouth of the Crouch Estuary suited William's current needs.
The Swallow's pinnace staggered onto a buoy off Burnham. Its foremast waved crazily in the swell. A
party left the ship and rowed for the shore.
"My God, what a dump," said William. "Essex is just one big mudflat. Are the locals born with webbed feet?"
"There are pleasant enough lands around the old Roman city at Colchester," said Simon. He put his cloak around Lucy. "Are you warm enough, my lady?"
"Your cloak is welcome, sir," she said. "There is a cool wind over the marshes."
They landed on the jetty and walked up into the town, which boasted one tavern. William led the way in. "I need a table and four mugs of your best beer, landlord."
A man wearing an apron came out to seat them. "Sit here, lady, gentlemen. Can I get you some food?"
"A hot meal would be good. What do you have in the kitchen?"
"My wife has made a coney and turnip pie this very day. It is stuffed with pepper and currants and pricked between the legs so as not to break its body." The landlord waited expectantly.
"Excellent," said William. "We will have four servings."
The landlord bowed and went back to the kitchens.
"That sounds good," Simon said.
"Aye, well. I would not expect too much from such an out-of-the way place," said William.
The potboy arrived with their beer. Simon turned to Lucy. "Are you warmed now, my dear?"
Lucy returned his cloak. "Thank you, husband." She kissed him on the cheek as the potboy put down the mugs. Lucy was doing her best to adopt the accent of the minor rural gentry. The crystal-clear accents of the London aristocracy were a little too distinctive.
They chatted inconsequently. The potboy returned with radishes and salt as a taster to clear their palette and tempt their appetite. William was astonished. This country tavern served food more like a fashionable Chelsea house than a place on the Essex marshes.
The landlord placed a whole pie in the centre of the table and wiped four plates, which he laid out for the diners. William indicated to Lucy that she should break the crust first. Lucy helped herself to a man's share. William wondered where she stored so much in such a slight figure. Somehow, he had expected that a titled lady would pick delicately at her food but she attacked her meals like a sailor on a blowout. When all had helped themselves, they tasted the food. The pie was baked to perfection.
"I wonder what the goodwife has used to glaze the pastry," said Simon, who considered himself something of a gourmet. "I suspect she has used an egg mix. The pastry is crisp and firm but just dissolves in the mouth."
"Mmmmm," said Lucy, and helped herself to another portion having wolfed down the first. She became aware that the men all looked at her. "What? The sea air has given me an appetite."
"I must ask for the recipe so you can make this pie for me, beloved," said Simon, playing to the gallery.
Lucy finished a mouthful before replying. "Of course, I will slave in a kitchen to make it for you, dearh eart. Especially as you are so poor that we cannot afford a cook." She gazed at him adoringly. William choked back a laugh.
Lucy and Simon held hands a lot during the meal and often gazed into each other's eyes. William knew that they were only obeying his instructions but he felt more than a twinge of jealousy. Lucy treated him politely but with a coolness that wrenched at him. The tavern filled with locals mostly eating simpler fare such as a vegetable pottage, although the more prosperous yeoman farmers also ordered the pie.
The landlord reappeared to clear their plates. "Can I tempt you with something sweet to finish, lady, gentlemen?"
William was set to refuse when Lucy piped up, "What fare do you have, landlord?"
"Seasonal fruit, lady, or cheese, or my wife's special," he said.
Lucy clapped her hands, "What is the special? Is it as good as the coney pie?"
"I will leave you to judge its quality, madam. The special is cherry shortbread seasoned with mustard, cinnamon, and ginger."
"How splendid. I shall definitely try a piece. With your permission, husband." She said, remembering late that she was supposed to be a dutiful wife.
"Of course you shall have a taste of the shortbread, dear heart," Simon said. "I can refuse you nothing."
The landlord grinned. He had clearly worked out where the power lay in this marriage. William felt there was enough cloying sweetness at the table without adding cherry shortbread but he also ordered a slice for politeness's sake.
Lucy bit into her sweet. Simon waxed lyrical about the balance of the spices but Lucy seemed distant.
"Are you all right, Lady Dennys?" William asked, softly so that only those around the table heard.
Lucy replied as quietly. For a moment, she reverted to her earlier ease with him. "Ah, yes, Captain, thank you. Lilith, the glutton demon, gets terribly excited about sweet foods. Of all the sensations in our world, it is sweet foods that tempt her most. She keeps going on about it in my head, distracting me. Normally, Lilith is more polite and keeps quite when I am talking to people."
William thought that the last sentence was probably not aimed at him. "Lilith tastes what you eat, milady?"
"Lilith absorbs every sensation that my body or my mind experiences," Lucy replied coldly and would not look at him. He lacked the courage to keep the conversation going.
They sat around the table eating until they were replete. The landlord returned while the boy cleared the plates. "How was the meal, gentlemen?"
"Superb," said Simon. "I mean no offence, landlord, but your wife's cooking seems far in excess of what is needed for such a modest place."
"Indeed, sir. My wife learnt her art in London Town. We get little trade from the sea but gentlemen out hunting stop here for dinner."
"Gentlemen?" asked William.
"Yes, sir. The Earl of Oxford has a country house nearby. What brings you gentlefolk to Burnham?"
"Mischance," said William. "I am taking a cargo from Gravesend to Kings Lyn. The mast broke but a few miles out of Gravesend so we came in here to make repairs. Master Johnston here is supercargo. He is taking his new wife back to Cambridgeshire with him."
"We could see that they were newlyweds," said the landlord, winking.
Lucy blushed prettily and clutched at Simon's hand.
"She will indeed make a fine wife with the, ah, proper instruction," said Simon, blandly.
A steely look from Lucy warned him not to push his luck.
"Mayhap, another jug of beer, landlord," said William.
The landlord left to arrange fresh drinks.
"So the Earl of Oxford keeps a house near the Crouch," said Simon. "How interesting."
"Do you think Walsingham knows?" asked William.
"Do you think Philip of Spain is a papist?" asked Simon.
They drank their beer and settled the account. It was expensive but worth every penny. It was going to be a long night. They took a turn around Burnham to walk off the meal. There was little to see except for a small Norman church. They lit candles and said prayers for the success of their enterprise. William watched Lucy kneel at the screen. If anyone had suggested to him that a girl possessed by a demon would sit quietly in church to pray then he would have thought them mad. He was changing many of his preconceptions. A pity he had not changed some of them sooner, he thought sourly.
They returned to the jetty and summoned the rowboat. The tide was on the flood so the oarsmen had to work hard to reach the pinnace. Most of the crew were resting. The boatswain kept a few fiddling with the mast to add verisimilitude to their cover story.
Lucy stood at the bow looking over the Essex marshes. A bird called mournfully with a deep booming sound. Gwilym joined her. "'Ow about a little exercise, 'ighness?"
"With knives, I have to practise with my blade," she said.
"We don't 'ave no wooden practice daggers, 'ighness."
"So? I promise not to hurt you," said Lucy.
"Ha!" Gwilym replied.
They walked to the centre of the deck where the pinnace was widest and drew their daggers. The crew clustered around eagerly. Some had seen Lucy fight and the others had he
ard all about it. No one was going to miss this. Simon and William watched from the aft deck.
"With your weight, Gwilym, you have all the advantages on this enclosed space. I don't have room to use my speed."
"You think life should be fair, 'ighness? What a peculiar notion."
Gwilym limbered up as he spoke. Then, without warning, he stabbed at her face.
"Christ's blood." William was horrified. Simon was relaxed; he had seen them spar before.
Lucy's blade flashed as she parried Gwilym's dagger. She slashed at him on the backswing but he had already swung away. He crowded her, making a series of feints. She checked each one. When he had manoeuvred her into the rail, he launched a midline thrust. She intercepted and their knives locked. Gwilym stepped inside her and blocked his forearm against her throat. Had Gwilym carried through he would have crushed her windpipe. She winked at him and he looked down to see her knee in his groin. Had she followed through she would have unmanned him.
"You are becoming quite a dirty little fighter, 'ighness."
"I have a good teacher," Lucy said.
Gwilym heaved and spun her round. He was not stronger than her but he had considerably more body mass so it was she who moved. She continued the spin, finishing her turn in time to parry his attack. She struck at him with her dagger in a series of low blows. He was forced to stoop to block them. When she had him down low enough, she jumped over his blade and lightly kicked him in the head.
"Cozened you, Gwilym," Lucy said, delightedly. "That rarely happens."
The crew clapped and whistled. Lucy gave a little curtsey in their direction. She appeared not to hear a loud aside from a seaman.
"And you fancied her in your bed, Billie. She'd eat you alive."
She also appeared not to hear the boatswain's piercing whisper in reply. "Reynolds, if I hear you insult the captain's guest again, I will tie your balls to my cutlass as good-luck tokens."
Lucy's Blade Page 28
