A Skin of a Dragon (The Guild of Gatekeepers Book 1)

by Frances Jones

  Tabatha sighed, and her steely facade seemed to waver for a moment. 'He bade me go and return in my sixteenth year if the desire to learn of magic had not faded by then. That was just one year away, so I lived in the tunnels, stealing what I needed from the cellars of wealthy homes and taking what I wanted from travellers upon the roads at night. Always, I hoped to meet Emerson there once again, but I never did.

  'On the day I turned sixteen, I returned to Emerson and bade him make good on his promise to me. For several months he schooled me in magic- trifling things only, not the full extent of what he was capable of. I pressed him to tell me more about the shadowy group he belonged to, but he would say nothing. On reflection, I do believe there were times when he considered making me his apprentice, but no matter how hard I pressed him, something always seemed to hold him back. Eventually, he would meet with me no longer, and I never saw him again.' As she spoke her voice trembled with emotion, and she bit her lip to compose herself.

  'I knew he had a brother who travelled often,' Tabatha continued, 'for Emerson had spoken of him, and so I staked out the roads day and night until I found him. George was sympathetic to my plight and far more forthcoming than Emerson. I learned from him that Emerson was a member of the Guild of Gatekeepers and that he had considered making me his apprentice, but he feared my pledge would not be lighter than the Shadow Horse’s hair it was to be weighed against, on account of my independence and waywardness.' She paused and gave a wry smile. 'He said that Emerson couldn't have countenanced seeing me sent to my death. After that, I resigned myself to living in the shadows forever, never to learn the great secrets of magic or see my rescuer again. I saw George now and then, and he gave me this wand to protect myself from the things that lurk in these tunnels, but I have not seen or spoken of Emerson since then.'

  I looked closely at Tabatha. She seemed intent upon polishing an invisible speck from a silver plate that she had taken up and rubbed vigorously at it with the edge of her cloak. Her jaw was set hard with suppressed emotion, and she refused to meet my gaze. I felt wretched for having dredged up memories she clearly wished to remain hidden.

  'I am sorry,' I said quietly.

  'Let us speak no more of it,' replied Tabatha. She stood up and held out the wand to me. 'I am going to try and learn what I can of the King's whereabouts. I shall be back before nightfall. Do not venture up above ground. Keep this close and be vigilant; there are darker and even more terrifying things in these tunnels than that which you have just seen. Colonel, you will have to leave your new friends for a while,' she added as she slung the saddle onto the horse's back. She fitted a long knife in a sheath into her belt, took her hat and cloak and then disappeared back down the tunnel with Bandit at her heels.

  Eliza looked at me and frowned. 'What do you think of that?'

  'She seemed saddened when she spoke of Emerson,' I replied. 'I think she cared for him.'

  'I think she is withholding something,' replied Eliza. 'I still do not trust her.'

  I sighed but made no reply. I had no appetite for further argument. We spoke no more of it for the rest of the day and alternated between reading from the few books that Tabatha had acquired and playing cards with a pack I found amongst her horde to while away the hours.

  Nightfall must have come and gone in the world above, but still Tabatha did not return. I yawned and blinked back sleep, afraid to fall asleep even with Tabatha's wand to protect us from the terror that lurked in the tunnels. I resisted long after Eliza had succumbed, but at last, with the strange noises of the subterranean world echoing along the tunnels and chambers, I too dropped off to sleep.

  Chapter 63

  'Breakfast,' declared Tabatha, tossing a fresh loaf of bread and a slab of butter wrapped in linen onto the sarcophagus and peeling off her cloak.

  I rolled over and opened my eyes. Eliza was already awake and looking half-heartedly through the piles of glittering objects that lay about the floor of the chamber.

  'Did you steal anything last night?' she asked.

  'No,' replied Tabatha as she set about unsaddling Colonel. 'Well, nothing of any use. I spy upon my targets before moving in to be sure they really do know something worth selling on, but no one seems to know where the King is being kept. I overheard two Roundheads on the road discussing it. One said he had heard rumours that the King is being held in London, the other said he had heard otherwise.'

  'What are we to do then?' I asked.

  'We can only wait,' replied Tabatha. 'It will get out soon enough where the King really is.'

  'I hope so,' said Eliza. 'I'm getting dreadfully anxious for my father and George. It's not just for the King's sake that I am counting on getting the dragonskin to him.'

  We sat in depressed silence for a while and listened to Ralph, Ruby and Colonel chomping on their hay while Bandit gnawed the remains of an old bone he had found. At last, Eliza broke the silence.

  'Surely someone must know where the King is being held? I find it difficult to believe that you were able to gather so much information for George previously, but now that it comes to finding out where the King is you say you can't.'

  'Eliza!' I hissed with a reproachful look.

  Tabatha's face flushed red then turned white, and she bit her lip to suppress her anger. 'Someone, perhaps several someones, know where the King is, but unless I know who they are I cannot get that information. My guess is that this secrecy is deliberate to prevent you from finding the King, perhaps long enough for Devere to find you. He may, after all, have Rupert in his custody by now, and it won't be long before he has extracted from him all the information he desires, but if you truly believe that I am deceiving you, which you have made quite plain, you are free to try your luck in London alone. I bet you would be in Devere's hands by sundown.'

  'Rupert would never betray us,' retorted Eliza.

  'Well, from what I have seen, it seems to me that your judgement of character is questionable to say the least,' snorted Tabatha.

  'Please!' I cried before Eliza could answer back. 'We may be stuck down here for a good while before we find out anything about the King's whereabouts; can't we try to get along? It's going to be a long, miserable wait if not. Tabatha, I think your guess is probably right. I for one believe you, and I think Eliza does too, though she might be reluctant to admit it.' Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but I shot her a menacing glare. 'Eliza, if Tabatha intended to hand us over to Devere or anyone else she would have done so by now. She is risking her life helping us, and you should be grateful for that. I am worried about George and your father too, but you shouldn't take out your frustration on Tabatha. I think you should apologise.'

  Tabatha smiled just a little smugly and looked at Eliza expectantly.

  'I'm sorry,' muttered Eliza. 'I am grateful for your help.'

  'Apology accepted,' replied Tabatha with a satisfied smile.

  Chapter 64

  The girls said nothing more to one other for the rest of the day and avoided each other as much as possible in the days that followed. Boredom and the lack of light bothered me most while we passed the days in Tabatha's chamber. Eliza and I would go back up the tunnel to take a sniff of air in the churchyard late at night, but Tabatha warned us against doing so in daylight, fearful of who might see us and discover her secret home.

  Gradually, the days turned into weeks, and Christmas was upon us. We spent a miserable day listening to the carol singers in the church and wishing we could be sharing in the joy with them. I thought of all my past Christmases in Osmington Mills. Each Christmas Eve, my father and I would go into the woods to find a Yule log to be burned in the fireplace, and depending on the going rate for the commodities that we smuggled, we sometimes had been able to afford to buy a poached pheasant for dinner.

  Every night, Tabatha was out gleaning what information she could, but each morning she returned with nothing more to tell. She roamed the highways leading into and out of London and spied upon those of Cromwell's men she encountered, even
accosting one or two, but she did not hear even a whisper of where the King was being held. Then, on the morning of New Year's Eve, she returned to the crypt carrying a bag of coins. She tossed them onto the pile of other valuables she had acquired during her short career and joined me and Eliza at the table where we were playing cards to while away the hours.

  'You are late back,' I commented. 'It must be past mid-morning. We were starting to get anxious.'

  'Yes, I am later than usual. I needed to investigate a rumour I have heard that the King is being held in secret at St. James' Palace.'

  'Who told you that?' asked Eliza.

  'No one in particular. I have kept my ear to the ground these past few nights and spied upon a few Roundheads in the inns and taverns they frequent in London. ‘Twas just something I heard, but it is worth investigating. One particularly senior member of Cromwell's circle was said to be travelling into London tonight, and I thought he might be able to tell me more with a little encouragement. He had a large entourage with him though, and it was too risky to try to accost him. I managed to cut the purse of one of his companions though.'

  'Do you think the rumour is true?' I asked.

  'I don’t know,' said Tabatha, 'but 'tis the only lead we have so far. I am going to go to St. James' Palace tonight to find out more.'

  'I'll come with you,' I replied. 'If the King is there it may be our only chance to get the dragonskin to him.'

  'Very well,' replied Tabatha, 'but be prepared to fight. If it's true, then the King will be closely guarded.'

  'What about me?' asked Eliza.

  'One of us should to stay behind to notify George in the event we don't return,' said Tabatha. 'If the King is there, the palace and surrounding area will be swarming with Cromwell's men, I'll warrant. It will not be an easy task getting past them. We should prepare for the worst.'

  So it was decided that Tabatha and I would go together, she disguised as a lady and me as her page. Eliza paced the chamber anxiously as evening drew in.

  'Please be careful,' she said to me. 'Remember this is only a reconnaissance. If you can't get to the King, then come away. We still have Edward's transmogrification potion and can go again another night.'

  'We will be careful,' I reassured her, 'but if we haven't returned by dawn, you should try and get a message to George somehow to let him know we have failed. Then you must get as far away as possible before Devere comes for you. It will be best for you make your way back to Treadway Castle.'

  'Don't say that,' said Eliza with a shudder. 'I cannot bear to think of that possibility.'

  Tabatha was busy dressing herself as a wealthy lady, which she passed as with ease. She wore an emerald green silk gown and a velvet cape and gloves that she had found in the luggage she once stole from a stagecoach. Her wrists and neck she adorned with some of the jewels in her vast collection.

  'I think I am ready,' she announced as she admired herself in a gilt mirror propped against the wall.

  'You look beautiful,' Eliza acknowledged grudgingly.

  'Thank you,' replied Tabatha. 'It would be better if we had a livery for Tom to pass him off as a page more convincingly, but it can't be helped. We shall just have to make do and be careful.'

  'We should be going,' I said. 'It must be past dark.'

  Eliza walked with us to the entrance to the crypt to bid us a final farewell. Outside, the stars blazed high above in the clear night sky, and our breath steamed and hung in the still air as Tabatha and I trudged through the churchyard to the road beyond. When we reached the gates, Tabatha mounted Colonel and I rode behind upon Ruby. I glanced back to the corner of the churchyard where the tunnel emerged from the thick tangle of ivy, but the darkness obscured the entrance; Eliza could not be seen. I reached inside my cloak and touched the flintlock where it hung from my belt. It was reassuring to feel its bulk at my side.

  'We will have to cross the river at London Bridge and then turn back west,' said Tabatha.

  The clip of Colonel's hooves was the only sound to be heard as we rode. As we drew closer to London, we spoke in whispers and only when absolutely necessary, fearful of who might be listening, though we passed barely a handful of other travellers on the road until we reached the slums on the outskirts of the city. The boisterous shouts of revellers in the taverns or lurking in the narrow streets filled the night air, and the stench of filth and excrement made me feel sick.

  We hurried through the unpleasant sprawl of the slums with our heads bowed and our hands ready on the holster of our guns, but we passed through unmolested. At last, the shadowy form of London Bridge, and the buildings that lined it on either side, could be seen silhouetted against the night sky. The sound of water churning through the enormous water wheels beneath its arches grew gradually louder as we approached.

  'Dismount and lead the horses by the reins,' said Tabatha as we reached the south end of the bridge. 'And put this baggage on Ruby's back. You should look like my page, not my companion.'

  I did as she instructed and led Colonel and Ruby onto the bridge. High above us, the shops and houses reared up, and people in the upper windows shouted across to their neighbours in the buildings on the opposite side of the bridge. At points, the buildings on both sides drew so close together that they formed a tunnel under which we passed along with the few coaches and pedestrians out on the bridge that night. As we reached its end, the imposing structure of St Paul's Cathedral reared up behind the dark mass of London's skyline.

  'St. James' Palace is south west of the cathedral,' whispered Tabatha. 'If we follow the river this way we should come upon it.'

  'How will we know if the King is inside?' I asked.

  'I don't know,' replied Tabatha. 'We shall just have to see when we get there.'

  Chapter 65

  I covered my head with my hood and looked down as I walked. My heart thudded as I glanced at every person that passed us by and wondered if they were Devere's spies.

  'Stop acting so suspiciously!' hissed Tabatha. 'You're drawing attention to us. Just keep your head up and your eyes directly ahead.'

  In fact, the night was growing increasingly cold, and those people still out paid us no attention, anxious to put a door between themselves and the night.

  'Stop here,' said Tabatha suddenly. We had quit the river bank and now stood before a high wall with tree branches sweeping over from the garden that it enclosed.

  Tabatha stood in the saddle and reached up to one of the branches. 'Follow me,' she whispered.

  'What about Colonel and Ruby?' I hissed.

  'They will be fine. There is nobody about. Hurry up,' said Tabatha as she disappeared over the wall.

  I hesitated and glanced back the way we had come. It was true that there wasn’t a soul to be seen, and everywhere was strangely quiet. The swirl of the river was loud in the absence of the usual hustle and bustle of the city. I loosened the flintlock in its holster and climbed onto Ruby's back to follow Tabatha over the wall.

  'This is the garden of St. James' Palace,' said Tabatha from somewhere close by.

  'Where are you?' I whispered. A thick clump of trees and shrubs grew around the walls, and Tabatha had melted into their shadows.

  'Here,' she replied. The pale skin of her hand shimmered in the moonlight as she reached out to touch my arm. 'Come on.'

  With my heart pounding, I followed Tabatha through the garden towards the dark rear of the palace. All but the lower windows were in darkness.

  'Look there,' whispered Tabatha, pointing through the bushes to the open door of the kitchen, through which firelight spilled out into the night. In the doorway stood an elderly woman beating the dust from a rug with a paddle.

  'She's bound to know if the King is here. Pretend you are new to the household and see what you can find out,' said Tabatha as she thrust me towards the door before I had chance to object.

  'Who's that?' asked the woman, looking up from her work and squinting into the darkness.

  I hesitated a moment. 'It's Tom,
ma'am,' I replied, too bewildered to think of anything else to say.

  'Are you the new hall boy?' asked the woman. 'Come closer so I can see you; my eyes aren't what they used to be.'

  I took a few furtive steps forward and glanced anxiously at the door, expecting at any moment to see one of Cromwell's men walk past, and then the game would be up.

  'Yes, I'm the new hall boy,' I replied.

  'Has old Harry given you your instructions yet?' asked the woman.

  'No, ma'am,' I replied.

  'Well, you can start by helping with these rugs. Here, you have a stronger arm than I,' said the woman handing me the paddle.

  'Are these for the King's suites?' I asked, recovering my wits and seeing an opportunity, however clumsy, to glean the information I was looking for.

  'Eh? The King?' asked the woman, puzzled.

  'Er, I... I heard he was being held here under arrest,' I mumbled.

  'Well, if he was I for one would know of it,' replied the woman haughtily. 'Nothing passes in this palace without my knowing. Old Harry likes to think he runs the place, but I know more of what passes under this roof than anyone. I've been in this household nigh-on forty years, and no one knows the old place better than me, so I'm afraid you have been misinformed, young man.'

  'Oh yes, it seems I must have been,' I mumbled. I had touched a nerve, but the old woman's outrage had spared me her suspicion or probing questions. Now I just had to get away and back to where Tabatha was hiding amongst the trees.

  'No, not like that,' the old woman chastised me. Despite her poor eyesight, she had an exacting eye for others' work. 'Harder, boy! There be a year's worth of dust in these rugs!'