The Devil's Looking-Glass

Chapter FOURTEEN





GREY MIST ROLLED across the river. The night-sounds of sleeping London whispered through the fog like the breath of a child at sleep: the calls of the beadles, the hoots of owls from the wooded shores, the splash of oars and creak of rigging. Along the quayside at Greenwich, pikemen in burgonets appeared to glide out of the folding cloud. Darting eyes searched for the foreign agents they had been told were preparing to attack. They glowered at the boys heaving cordwood to the beacons, hurling abuse to mask their fear. Beyond the circle of light cast by the sizzling lantern over the inn door, two men huddled together in intense conversation. Both kept their heads down to obscure their identities.

Will Swyfte glanced suspiciously at a merchant’s cart further along the quay. The horse snorted and stamped its hooves as the bleary-eyed driver nodded in his seat. Two bickering labourers heaved an oak cask of salt beef off the back of the cart. Cursing, the men lowered the barrel to the cobbles and then trundled it to the winch beside the Gauntlet. The provisioning of the galleon was almost complete, salt fish, biscuit, wine, water and rice all stored in the hold. They would be set to sail at dawn, as planned. Will hid his unease. It had been seven days since the Faerie Queen’s warning, three since Launceston and Carpenter had discovered the frozen soldier on the river bank, with nary a sign of the Unseelie Court.

‘Then we have agreement?’ the other man enquired. Sir Walter Raleigh was many things – explorer, occasional spy, soldier – and famed at home and abroad, yet since he had fallen from the Queen’s favour he had spent his days skulking away from attention. Under his cloak, his fine midnight-blue doublet with jewelled buttons showed he had not lost his taste for flamboyance, Will noted, but his refined features had hardened.

‘You have met your side of the bargain. It seems your secret society can achieve great things, and with speed.’

Raleigh turned his face away as one of the labourers strode towards the inn. ‘In the ranks of the School of Night we have many men of wealth and influence,’ he whispered. ‘Your request was difficult at such short notice, but not impossible.’ He held his hands wide. ‘See, Master Swyfte. Together we can achieve great things.’

Will’s mind swam with the faces of the men he had learned were part of Raleigh’s conspiracy: Henry Percy, the Wizard Earl, and Dr Dee himself; George Chapman, the playwright, Thomas Harriot who studied the stars and numbers, and good Kit Marlowe. Raleigh had hinted that there were many more besides, men of good standing who showed one face to the Queen and another in their private meetings, nobles and educated commoners, and the brave explorers who had uncovered the darkest secrets of the New World. The School of Night wished to chart a course away from the never-ending war between England and the Unseelie Court, but Will suspected the conspirators had a further agenda that had grown out of their love of forbidden knowledge. But that was a consideration for another day.

‘And your aid is given freely and without obligation?’ he asked with a wry smile. He did not wholly trust Raleigh, nor feel any desire to be indebted to him. Indeed, at that moment, he felt there was barely a man in the world that he could trust.

‘I am a genial fellow, Master Swyfte, but I did not achieve my place in the world by being naive. Quid pro quo. That is how every man does business.’

The spy’s attention was caught by a golden glow deep in the mist over the river. It moved steadily towards them.

‘You seem unsettled, sir. You fear the attack is imminent?’ Raleigh asked. He followed Will’s gaze, but appeared untroubled.

‘I prefer not to lower my guard at this late stage. Our defences hold for now, but the Unseelie Court are as cunning as snakes.’

The hazy light became a lantern swinging on a pole at the prow of a wherry. Two oarsmen heaved in unison. They were both bearded, in the manner of watermen, their thick woollen cloaks wrapped tight against the night’s chill.

‘The Charm Boat?’ Raleigh asked.

Will nodded. ‘It sails an unceasing course between the twin banks with Dee’s magical concoctions and amulets aboard. The Unseelie Court will not be able to use the wide Thames as a route into the heart of London.’

He thought how desperate they had all become. Dee’s protective magics had given them the illusion of security for so long, they had grown to think they were immune to the terrors that waited in the night. Now they had all been revealed as frightened children, from the lowest in the land to the Queen herself.

As the wherry eased out of the grey curtain, he saw it carried three passengers on the benches near the stern. The small, hunched shape in a hooded black cloak could only be Cecil, come to inspect the provisioning of the Gauntlet. Will watched the figure coldly. The other two men had the look of guards: implacable stares, broad shoulders, hands hidden inside cloaks where their daggers lay.

‘I must away before the Little Elf sees me,’ Raleigh said with a grimace. ‘That befanged spider squatting in the centre of his web is an echo of the Queen and she sees me as betrayer, though in truth it is more a matter of wounded pride. But quickly, our bargain. In return for the aid given to you by the School of Night, we require your loyalty.’

‘Treason, then?’

Raleigh shrugged. ‘Matters are never so bald. It is my intention to launch another expedition to the New World shortly. I would meet with the Unseelie Court. Perhaps common ground can be found. We may learn from their vast knowledge of the mysteries that underpin existence, and thereby enrich the lives of all men.’

‘Or the Enemy may eradicate you in the blink of an eye.’

‘Nevertheless, it is a risk worth taking. I would ask that if you return from the New World, you relate to me personally all that you learned there. Elizabeth does not need to know.’

Will nodded, but kept his eyes guarded. ‘I have served the Queen well for many years, but the time has come for hard choices. The ceaseless scheming of monarchs and men of power grows tiresome. There are other matters of greater import to me.’

‘Very well.’ Raleigh nodded, taking this as acceptance. ‘Then let us say farewell for now.’

The wherry crunched against the side of the quay and one of the guards called out for the oarsmen to take care. Will guessed the watermen had been drinking to numb the boredom of their repetitive journey. When he turned his attention back to Raleigh, the other man had melted into the mist.

Striding to the river’s edge, Will put aside his suspicions about the spymaster and hailed him. Cecil’s head jerked up and he glowered, anxiety drawing new lines on his face. But he took the hand offered him and clambered up the stone steps to the cobbles. ‘The Queen is safely ensconced in the Palace of Whitehall with two hundred good men to guard her,’ he said. ‘Though she is still recovering from her recent ordeal, she is determined to lead her people in the defence of England.’

‘I would expect no less. But for now she can only wait and worry. If all goes well, our sailing will take the heat away, for a while at least.’

Cecil glanced towards the men rolling barrels up the planks on to the Gauntlet and gave a relieved nod. ‘Wait and worry, indeed. Our sentries round London report that all is calm. No hint of threat, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps the Faerie Queen sought to frighten us with lies.’

‘She has no reason to lie.’

Cecil clenched his teeth, peering into the mist over the water. ‘Let them strike, then. We will show them what fire burns within us.’

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.’