The Scar-Crow Men

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE




WITH HIS CAPTORS DISTRACTED BY THE CACOPHONY OF VOICES, Will rolled across the dusty stone flags to where he had seen his rapier and dagger tossed earlier. The spy felt around in the gloom until his fingers closed on cold steel. In the dim, ruddy light, he glimpsed three of the Fay turn towards him, drawing their own swords.

‘Put down your arms,’ Fabian demanded with a regretful note.

‘To relinquish them before I have used them would be a waste,’ Will responded.

Ferocious and fast, the three Fay moved like wolves, but the spy was ahead of them. With a heave of his leather shoe, he propelled the brazier forwards. Hot coals cascaded over the nearest foe. Piercing screams rang out, a column of flames lighting up the chamber. The air filled with the stink of seared flesh.

Shielding his eyes from the blinding light, Will darted out of the chamber. In the dense dark, he was lost in the disorienting din of the metallic booming and the nearing shouts. ‘Grace!’ he yelled. He just caught his friend’s shrill response under the clamour.

The spy found Grace pressed against a wall, her eyes burning with determination. Her Fay guard waited in front of her, rapier already drawn, eyes narrowed. When the supernatural being lunged, Grace hurled herself on to his back with a cry, tearing at his face with her nails. Seizing his moment, Will thrust his blade into his reeling foe’s heart. As the pale figure fell, Grace leapt free and rushed to her saviour’s side.

The spy was surprised to see such fierce emotion in her usually placid face. ‘Why, Grace,’ he said, ‘I will need you by my side in the next Bankside brawl.’

‘I have been battered and beaten and questioned and imprisoned and I have had my fill!’ she snapped. ‘Now get me out of here, Will, or so help me I will turn my fury ’pon you.’ Despite her resolve, the spy saw tears of fear flecking the corners of her eyes. Her trial had taken its toll on her.

Grabbing her hand, Will ran through the chambers towards the clamour. Not far from the stone steps leading down from the seminary, he confronted a mob of about twenty black-robed priests, their faces etched with terror. One near the front held a torch, others grasped golden crosses taken from the chambers of the senior priests. Their wide eyes searched the dark as they shouted encouragement to each other. Some muttered prayers. The spy saw Mathias at the centre of the crowd, Hugh on the edge, trembling with fear.

‘You wish to scar my conscience before you claim my soul, is that it, devil?’ Will hissed to the invisible Mephistophilis. ‘You have drawn these men to their slaughter.’

‘Who do you speak to?’ Grace asked.

The spy ignored her. A throaty chuckle crackled in his ear.

Distracted by their search for demons, the priests paid no heed to the two new arrivals. Will grabbed Hugh and pulled him aside. ‘You must leave this place, now,’ he urged.

‘Francis? Is it true, then? You brought the Devil into our midst?’

‘More than devils lurk down here. The evil loose in the seminary has brought you to your deaths. Flee!’

Seven of the Unseelie Court emerged from the dark at the far end of the chamber, rapiers drawn. With their grim, pallid faces and silvery-mildewed clothes, they looked like ghosts. The priests recoiled immediately.

A shadow crossed Grace’s face. ‘What are they? Since I was taken in Nonsuch, my days have passed like a dream from the potion I was given. I thought my captors were Spanish agents, but now—’

‘Later, Grace,’ Will snapped, drawing her attention from the supernatural figures. He would need to talk with her, but only when they were away from that place. He shook Hugh forcefully. ‘You must compel your companions to flee. Those creatures will fall upon you like wolves,’ he barked.

The young priest finally understood. Running back to the other men, he raised the alarm. Hauling Grace behind him, Will led the race back to the stone steps. Glancing back, he saw the gout-ridden Mathias had fallen behind, as had three of the elderly priests. Mouth torn wide, the lumbering father looked behind him, knowing what was coming. Out of the gloom swept the Unseelie Court, impassive, brutal. Their swords carved through the straggling priests with such ferocity the victims had no time to cry out. In a cascade of blood, Mathias went down. His killer barely paused.

Thrusting Grace up the steps with a promise that he would join her, Will waited, urging the remaining men behind the woman. With his rapier levelled in his right hand, he snatched the torch from the final passing priest and backed on to the steps.

Sensing the threat ahead, the Fay swordsmen slowed when they saw him. Waving the sizzling torch in front of him, Will edged up one step at a time. There was no room for more than one of his foes to strike at him.

As the spy crept upwards, the nearest opponent lunged. Parrying the thrust easily from his higher position, the spy jabbed the torch into his foe’s face. The Fay screamed, clutching at his ruined face as he tumbled backwards on to his companions. Turning heel, Will raced up the steps.

When he reached the long tunnel, he could see the priests had left open the alabaster statue of the Virgin and Child. The bodies of six men littered the stone floor, victims of the Unseelie Court’s traps. Avoiding the swinging blades, Will plunged out into the seminary and swung the statue shut behind him.

While the other priests fled, Hugh waited with Grace. ‘Where now?’ she gasped.

‘Where now, indeed?’ Will replied. ‘If I could take you straight to England, I would. But it is Paris that calls me, a city I now fear is in the grip of our greatest enemy.’ Sheathing his rapier, he turned to the young priest. ‘You are a good man, Hugh, and do not deserve to be wrapped up in this terrible affair,’ he said. ‘I have little love for priests who plot the end of my Queen, but warn your fellows to stay away from the spaces beneath the seminary. I do not think the forces that lurk there can remain now they have been uncovered, but it would be best not to take any risks.’

‘Who are you?’ Hugh asked, awed.

Will gave a deep bow. ‘Why, I am England’s greatest spy, my friend. I have been on a long journey to hell, but now I am back and determined to take some of damnation’s fire to my enemies.’