by Greg Hoover
Malachi looked up at the ghost. She stared at him for a moment. And then the blade of a knife shone in her hand, reflecting the dying light. Like a flash of lightening, she slashed her knife across his throat. Malachi grabbed his throat as blood poured through his hands and down his chest. The ghost backed away into the darkness, blood splattering on her white dress. William Butler ran forward. Malachi Hunter dropped to the floor. The crowd swirled around his body, and I pushed my way through the throng. But there was nothing any of us could do to help him.
Malachi Hunter was dead.
Chapter Nineteen
The chamber erupted in shouts and cries. Guards rushed King James from the room. A woman cradled Malachi in her arms and wept. She looked up at me, tears streaming from her eyes. “He wasn’t a bad man,” she said. “He was just very afraid.” I realized then that she was his wife, and tears ran down my cheeks.
“I am so sorry this happened,” I said. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.”
Malachi’s wife turned her head and stroked his hair. Her tears fell like drops of rain on the face of her beloved. Her tenderness moved me deeply. I wiped the tears from my eyes.
Thoughts of my wife filled my mind, and I rushed to check on Anne. Still sitting slumped in her chair, Anne’s head hung down and she was nonresponsive. I opened her left eyelid; only the white was showing.
“Doctor Butler!” I called. “Doctor Butler, come quick!”
William Butler pushed his way through the crowd surrounding Malachi’s body and came to my side. He checked her eyes, and then lowered his ear to her mouth to listen for breathing.
“Quiet!” he said to the crowd, but the noise continued. “I said quiet!”
The crowd ignored the doctor’s plea as they shouted at each other and ran throughout the room. Doctor Butler looked at me. “Get me a mirror.”
I ran to Anne’s vanity, grabbed her mirror, and brought it back to the physician. He held it up to her nose, and the glass steamed.
“Thank the Lord,” I said, crossing myself. “She’s alive.”
“Yes,” said Butler. “But just barely. She needs fresh air.”
I picked Anne up in my arms. The light of the hallway shown through the open door. I had to get her out fast, but it was a madhouse. The guards were trying to control the crowd and usher people out of the room. In the pandemonium, someone tripped over a pot of coals, and fire erupted. A wall of fire trapped Anne and me, preventing us from escaping. Doctor Butler and most of the others were on the opposite side of the flames, scrambling to get through the door. The crowd was running wild, screaming and trying to escape the burning room. They rushed the door, trampling each other.
“Help us!” I called, but to no avail.
The roaring flames cut us off from the exit. Even if we could fight our way through the blazes, the door was packed with people trying to push through to safety. Smoke, fire, and screams filled the room. I glanced around for another exit, but could find none. There was a sharp tug on my shirt. I turned and looked. It was Violet Lewis.
“This way!” she said as she pulled on my arm.
The carpets were burning as she pulled us through the fire. She led us to a corner of the room where the walls were burning. I glanced back, but the smoke was so heavy that I couldn’t see. I couldn’t stop coughing violently.
“Through there!” said Violet, and she pointed to the burning wall.
“There’s no door!”
“It’s a secret panel,” said Violet.
She reached her hands into the flames and searched for the release for the hidden door.
“Stop!” I screamed, but she continued. “Violet, stop! Stop!”
Bravely working through the pain, she found the hidden door release she had been looking for, pulled it, and the secret panel opened.
Still holding Anne in my arms, I sprang into the secret passage. I looked back at Violet. Flames danced around her as she dug something out of a pocket in her dress.
“Here, take this,” she said, and handed me a folded piece of paper.
“Come on!” I said. “Hurry!”
“I’m not going,” she said. “Tell them I am so sorry.”
The fire outlined her face as she closed the panel behind us. “No!” I screamed, but to no avail. There was no time to lose; I had to save Anne. I carried her into the hidden passageway. We continued down the passage as the sound of the fire faded behind us. The tunnel was dark, but the smoke was gone and the air was breathable. I laid Anne on the floor and stuffed the paper Violet had given me into my pocket.
“Anne? Can you hear me?”
Anne began coughing, and she sat up.
“Where am I?” she asked.
I told her what had happened and where we were. I was about to ask her why she passed out during the show, but I sensed someone behind me. I turned to look, but it was too dark to see anything.
“Who’s there?”
“Will, is that you?” came a man’s voice.
“Yes, I’m William Shakespeare, who are you?”
“It’s me,” he said. “Edward Wilkinson.”
“Thank the Lord,” I said, relieved. I was glad to have the former sheriff and adventurer with us.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, now we are.” I told him about Anne. She was breathing better now and seemed alert.
“Very good,” said Edward. “My lady, can you stand?”
“I think so,” said Anne. “Give me a hand?”
Bracing her arm, I helped her up. All things considered, she seemed to be all right.
“How did you find us?” Anne asked.
“I’m afraid I wasn’t looking for you,” said Edward. “I was only trying to escape the fire and save my own skin. I thought the fire would be my last adventure. But then I remembered hearing about a door to a secret passage in the room. I started knocking until I found it.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said.
“Can you help us get out of here?” Anne asked.
“Yes, I’ve been fascinated by these tunnels since I first learned about them,” said Edward. “I’m hoping the fire is out by now. People were throwing buckets of water on it right before I escaped. But it wouldn’t be wise to go back, just in case. Keep going forward. We’ll use our fingers to find our way along the wall through the dark. But be careful. There are a lot of passageways through here, and it’s easy to get twisted around.”
We started walking forward, carefully, one step at a time. Anne and I were going side by side, with Edward walking behind us. It surprised me how well Edward kept up with us. He was skilled at using the new leg he had made. The leg’s combination of wood for structure, leather for flexibility, and hinge for movement worked well together. And the wheel-lock pistol hidden inside was a nice touch.
“May I ask a question?” asked Edward.
“Of course,” I said.
“The question is for your wife, if that’s all right, sir.”
“Yes?” said Anne.
“How often does your identity shift between Anne Hathaway and Ravynna the Witch? Does her spirit possess you?” Edward paused, and then added, “No offense, madam, but I don’t want to be stuck in this darkness with a witch right now.”
“None taken,” said Anne.
“Edward,” I said. “Ravynna was a role that Anne had to play to buy time. We used it to find answers to questions that we couldn’t otherwise. It was the only way of proceeding with the investigation, considering the circumstances.”
“I’m sorry we had to deceive you,” said Ann
e.
“So, just to be clear,” said Edward. “You were never really a witch?”
“Thankfully, no,” said Anne.
“So, Ravynna was your own creation? She’s not an actual witch?”
“I hope that doesn’t disappoint you,” I said, smiling.
“Oh, no indeed,” said Edward. “No indeed.”
“There’s a turn on my right,” said Anne.
“And on my left,” I said, touching the wall.
“Go to the left,” said Edward.
We turned to the left and continued to grope our way along the wall.
“Does the king know your subterfuge about Ravynna?”
“No,” I said. “But as soon as we are out of here, we are going to tell everyone the truth.”
“Be careful,” said Edward. “Crowds can shift allegiance at a moment’s notice.”
“I know,” I said. “But we will take that risk.”
“So, there really was a ghost?” asked Anne.
“Yes,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “It was terrifying.”
“By the way,” said Edward, “do you know what happened to the ghost? I was watching Malachi, and I didn’t see where she went.”
“After she killed Malachi, she backed away and vanished.”
“Vanished?” he asked. “You saw her vanish?”
“Yes,” I said, and then I thought for a moment. “Actually, I guess not, now that you mention it.”
“Exactly what did you see?” asked Edward.
I inched forward with my toes and felt a drop off.
“Anne, stop,” I said. “I can’t feel the floor with my toes. It must be a drop off.”
“It’s okay,” said Edward. “It’s a stairway leading down. It’s the right way to go if we want to get out of here.”
“I’m glad we have a guide who knows the way,” said Anne.
Carefully, I put my foot over the edge. Not having anything to hold on to made me nervous. I searched around with my toes and was delighted to feel the first step.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I found the first step.”
“You are in a spiral staircase,” said Edward. “Feel around until you find a handrail.”
I reached out in front of me and felt the cold metal of a handrail. “Got it.” I helped Anne onto the first step. We descended. Edward was behind us, his wooden leg clicking on each step. My thoughts drifted back to being under the palace the day before, and the eerie chanting. I wondered about the sound of whatever it was that had pursued me. I was happy to have a retired sheriff with us. And it brought me comfort to know that he had his pistol, and years of experience.
“So,” said Edward. “What did you see after the ghost killed Malachi Hunter?”
“Can we please not talk about this now?” asked Anne. “I’d rather not think about ghosts of witches murdering people if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, my dear,” I said. “I’m afraid I have nothing to report, anyway. Malachi’s blood splattered on the ghost’s dress as she backed away. I focused on Malachi after that.”
“Hmm,” said Edward. “That’s strange.”
We reached the bottom step.
“What’s strange?” asked Anne.
“You said the blood splattered on the ghost’s dress.”
“That’s right,” I said, inching my way forward down the passageway. “I don’t understand your point.”
“Well,” he replied. “How could blood stain a ghost’s clothes?”
“You’re right!” I said.
“That means she wasn’t really a ghost,” said Anne.
“Probably not,” said the old soldier and sheriff. “But anything is possible.”
We felt the smooth walls along the passageway for guidance. My thoughts drifted back to being in the palace’s underground the day before.
“Look,” said Anne.
Up ahead was a glimmer of light. It seemed to be shining down from above.
“Thank heaven,” I said, and I called back to Edward. “There’s light ahead!”
“Just a moment,” said Edward. “The hinge on my leg has locked up again.”
Edward stopped to work on his leg. There were sounds of clicks and snaps as he tried to fix the hinge.
“Will,” Anne whispered to me. “Do you think we could keep going towards the light? I want out of here as soon as possible.”
“Edward,” I called. “We are going to move towards the light.”
“Very good,” said Edward. “Don’t worry about me. I have to tinker with my homemade leg all the time. It’s just a little more difficult in the dark.”
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“No, thank you,” he said.
Anne and I started walking towards the light. Edward continued working behind us. We came closer to the light, and I could see stairs.
“Edward,” I called. “There are stairs ahead.”
“That’s what we’re looking for,” said Edward.
There was a loud pop, and Edward said, “Oh, hang it all, let’s get out of here and I’ll fix this locked hinge later.”
Relieved, I looked at Anne. I could just make out her face now in the pale light streaming from above. I took her arm and started towards the stairway.
And that’s when it happened.
There was a long scraping sound, followed by a footstep. The pattern continued, over and over again. Anne and I froze to the spot and clutched each other tight. I then realized it was the same sound that was pursuing me the day before, when I was in these underground passageways. Terror filled me as I understood what, or rather who, was chasing me through the darkness the day before.
“You!” I said. “You were the one who was following me down here yesterday!”
Edward emerged out of the darkness, dragging his leg on the ground behind him. The light from above shown down on him as he pointed his wheel-lock pistol at us.
“That’s right,” said Edward. “I’m sorry, but I must insist that you come with me.”
Chapter Twenty
Edward’s wheel-lock pistol glimmered in the dim light.
“Edward,” I stammered. “How could you?”
Anne dropped to her knees on the dirt floor, holding her stomach.
“Anne, are you all right?”
“I’m sick,” said Anne. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Anne, can I—”
Fast as lightening, Anne stood up and threw a fistful of dirt into Edward’s eyes. He dropped his pistol and recoiled, rubbing his eyes violently.
“Run!” said Anne.
I reached down and searched on the ground for his pistol. It was lying to the right of where he was standing. I grabbed it and ran with Anne towards the stairwell.
“Stop!” shouted Edward, rubbing his eyes.
Not wasting a moment, we climbed the spiral stairs as fast as we could. When we reached the top, we couldn’t find an exit. I stuffed the pistol into my jacket and began feeling along the walls for a latch.
“Look!” said Anne.
On the side wall, there was light outlining what seemed to be a small square door. Anne and I pushed on the square with all our might, and it opened. We were pleased to discover it led outside to the courtyard. It was almost night, and daylight was fading fast.
Dozens of people filled the courtyard, along with tents, wagons, and horses. Campfires dotted the courtyard, surrounded by peop
le cooking their evening meal. I noticed a frightening figure staring at us. He was dressed all in black, with a waxy overcoat and square-topped hat. He was wearing a white mask with glass eye openings, and it had a strange long beak-shaped nose. He carried a cane in his hand.
“Who is that?” Anne asked a woman walking past us.
The woman glanced at the menacing figure. “Oh that?” she said. “That’s the Plague Doctor, that is. We all pooled our shillings and hired a plague doctor to come with us. Can’t be too careful these days, that’s what I say.”
The Plague Doctor walked towards us. Anne grabbed my arm and pulled me in another direction. We started walking between the tents and wagons, but the dark figure kept following us. We ducked into an empty tent, hoping he didn’t see us. We waited in silence for a moment until we felt the danger had passed.
“Why was he following us?” asked Anne.
Before I could answer, the tent door ripped opened and in walked the Plague Doctor. He ran to Anne and grabbed her.
“You take your hands off her!” I yelled. “Let her go!”
He turned, grabbed me, and hugged me tight. He then pulled back and removed his mask.
It was our oldest daughter, Susanna.
***
Susanna poured each of us a hot cup of tea as we sat in her private tent. Her long flaxen hair draped over her shoulders. I was struck by how much she resembled her mother.
“So,” said Susanna as she poured herself a cup of tea. “I realized that even though I’m an adult now, it would have been wise to have gone with you.”
“You are always welcome with us,” said Anne, smiling. “No matter how grown up you are.”
Susanna smiled back at her mother. “Anyway, I realized that if I were to survive this wave of the plague, I would have to get out of London. When I found out this group was going to seek asylum at Hampton Court Palace, I wanted to go. It’s a wealthy group, and I was aware I couldn’t afford to join them. Nor would I be accepted here on my own. But I convinced them to hire an experienced plague doctor to keep them safe.”