The Egyptian made a beckoning gesture and, without a word, the three young Legionnaires followed him into his domain. He led them down a flight of stone stairs into a cathedral-like chamber that two days ago Ben wouldn’t have believed could exist beneath the pavements of London. The stonework was the most elaborate that he had seen so far on his journey into the Under. The pillars that held up the vaulted roof took the form of enormous figures, supporting the ceiling on their broad shoulders. Ben had seen similar columns on the front of the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, but that façade couldn’t hold a candle to this.
The bodies were clearly human, both male and female, with loincloths and robes covering muscles and sinews of carved stone. But the heads were the heads of animals. Ben could make out a crocodile and a lion and other animals that he didn’t have a name for; animals that hunted and killed. He looked at Ruby for explanation but all he received was a look that told him to hold his tongue.
As Ben went further into the chamber, a deep feeling stirred inside him. I was born for this, he thought.
Everywhere he looked his eyes fell on a new treasure. Not treasure in the way that some might think of it – not gold necklaces or caskets overflowing with jewels; those were treasures for old men or girls with heads full of silly dreams. The treasures that he saw here were for men of adventure. Men like Claw Carter. Men like him.
The walls were hung with an amazing array of equipment, some of which Ben recognized and some of which were as mysterious as its strange keeper. Instantly familiar were sturdy boots, cloaks, capes and trousers in every size, leather belts and harnesses, backpacks and coils of rope like long snakes waiting for the charmer’s flute. On wooden mannequins hung breastplates, wrist cuffs, shin protectors: boys’ stories of knights in armour come to life. Arranged neatly on tables and chests were bullseye lanterns with metal shutters, which could focus the light in a single beam; the burglars’ favourite, thought Ben with a grin. Next to them sat chisels, files, hammers, pliers, crowbars and skeleton keys, designed to pick any lock in the right hands.
Then came some devices that were beyond Ben’s understanding. Some were clockwork, with intricate cogs and wheels designed to roll with precision. Others were steam-powered, with copper boilers, valves and tubes, and gauges to measure the pressure. There were workbenches all around the chamber, strewn with the tools of a skilled man, and since the Egyptian appeared to be the only person permitted there, he had to be the craftsman who made all these implements as well as the quartermaster who accounted for them. Ben’s mind reeled; this was incredible.
Then he saw the wall of weapons and his left hand throbbed with inner fire. Yes, he thought, I’d like to have a go with those.
There were crossbows on a rack – small powerful weapons that could be used with a single hand, like a pistol – and beside them a huge supply of crossbow bolts, some with sharp tips and others with fat weighted heads that Benjamin supposed could be used to knock someone out if fired with accuracy. He imagined himself with one of those pistols and made a mime of shooting...then he caught sight of Mickelwhite drawing a single finger across his throat and he let his imaginary crossbow fall to the floor.
Next to the crossbow pistols were other weapons: brass knuckles; knives of every conceivable size and shape; swords, pistols, rifles. And next to those was a collection of glass containers of various sizes – some small enough to fit into the palm of a hand, others that would require two strong men to carry them – all of them fitted with a length of fuse and filled with a grey dust that Ben guessed to be gunpowder. When the war against the Watchers came, the Legion would certainly be ready.
Wordlessly, the Egyptian bade them stand in a circle carved into the floor. Mickelwhite made the Legion salute, left fist on right shoulder, and then bowed, motioning for Ben and Ruby to do likewise. Ben found himself smiling broadly as he lowered his head: What would the boys from Old Gravel Lane say if they could see me now?
“This boy is a serf, My Lord,” said Mickelwhite in his haughty tones. He pronounced the word “serf” in the way other men might refer to the contents of their chamber pot. “His name is Kingdom.”
Ben might have been mistaken but he thought he saw a glimmer of recognition pass across the silent Egyptian’s face and a low gurgle came from his throat. Then, with surprising speed, those long hands reached out and began to prod and pat Ben roughly.
“He’s measuring you up,” whispered Ruby. “Hold your arms out straight and spread your legs slightly.”
Satisfied, the Egyptian moved soundlessly back and forth from his racks. Ben received metal wrist guards which fitted his forearms and could be used, he guessed, for blocking a Watcher attack, and similar shin protectors fitted to his legs, all of which were completely hidden beneath his clothes. He was given a new pair of boots, probably the best he had ever put on his feet, with sturdy ankle support, steel toecaps and solid grip. Then he was given a leather satchel, which he slung across his shoulder, a small canvas rucksack for his back, and a length of tightly coiled rope to be strung to his belt.
Ben could feel the excitement coursing through him. If only he had joined the Legion sooner, how different his life might have been.
The only slight disappointment was when, instead of being laden with bags and backpacks, Mickelwhite received a breastplate to wear beneath his shirt and one of the crossbow pistols, which sat snugly in a hidden holster below his left armpit where he could reach it at a moment’s notice. “Privilege of rank, dear boy,” Mickelwhite explained with a smirk.
Ruby rejected any armour but instead received a satchel which, when she looked inside it made her eyes light up. Knowing her skills as a thief, Ben guessed that it contained the tools of her trade.
Ben’s own abilities in that direction were improving too. While the Egyptian had his back turned, Ben’s nimble left hand sneaked out and claimed a collapsible brass telescope; he had always fancied one of those. He thought of the silver Coin then, still safe in its hiding place in his hatband. It was strange; it was almost as if since he found the Coin stealing had become so much easier.
When the Egyptian had provided them with everything that he was prepared to give, he gave them a small nod to show that they were dismissed. They saluted and made for the stairs. As an afterthought, Ben called over his shoulder: “Thanks, mate!”
The Egyptian made a dark noise, halfway between a bark and a snarl.
“I told you to say nothing!” Mickelwhite snapped when they were back in the corridor, the bronze door firmly shut.
“That noise he made,” said Ben. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Haven’t you got it yet?” Mickelwhite pushed his face up close to Ben’s, his nostrils flaring. “The Legion is made up of people who don’t fit in up there.” He jerked his finger towards the roof and the rest of London beyond. “Everyone in the Under has a history and if someone doesn’t tell you, then it’s not your place to ask.”
“But if he’s ill—”
Mickelwhite cut him off. “He’s not sick.”
“So why can’t he speak then?”
“It’s his punishment for a crime he committed a long time ago,” said Ruby.
“What did he do?”
“Nobody knows,” said Mickelwhite. “But it must have been serious because they cut out his tongue as his just reward.”
Ben went white. Old Gravel Lane was filled with rough sorts and too many scoundrels to count, but the Under was a different world entirely.
Ruby’s words came back to haunt him.
All welcome.
The rescue party was assembled in the tunnel at the foot of an iron ladder.
It was a simple enough plan. They would find a Watcher, track them back to their camp, and spring Nathaniel from captivity. The main difficulty that Mickelwhite had outlined was that the Watchers changed the location of their camp every night, plus they had the adv
antage of knowing all the secret paths across the roof of the city.
Ben also had his own private concerns. He had not forgotten the Weeping Man, or the sword that hung at his side.
Alexander Valentine would not be joining them; the weakness in his lungs was very bad that night. Squire Munro would not be coming either. His shape, his lack of agility and his general flatulence all limited his ability in the field. He said farewell with a solemn bow and a slight belch. That left six of them: Captain Mickelwhite, Hans Schulman, John Bedlam, Jimmy Dips, Ruby and Ben himself.
This close to the surface, the Legion were always on guard, and Ben could feel the tension that hung around their shoulders, as cold and heavy as damp wool. Mickelwhite waited for absolute silence before he sent Jimmy Dips scampering up the ladder to open the trapdoor in the roof. The whereabouts of the entrances to the Under were among the most fiercely protected secrets of the Legion. Ruby had told Ben that more than once an entrance had had to be sealed up, or even whole sections of tunnel abandoned, just because a Legionnaire had been careless and allowed themselves to be seen. Captain Mickelwhite was taking no chances.
Jimmy climbed carefully, making sure that his boots landed softly on the rungs. Then he lifted the stone slab a tiny fraction and peered out into the night with his rat-pink eyes. Satisfied that no one was about, Jimmy lifted the slab higher and cast around with his bullseye lantern, its tight narrow beam reaching out into the dark.
“All clear,” he whispered and they followed him up the ladder, their lips firmly buttoned shut, until they were all standing in the enclosed darkness of a cellar.
The armour on Ben’s wrists and shins felt heavy, and the pack on his back was even worse. Mickelwhite had taken the opportunity to fill it with a dozen more items, each of which he declared to be invaluable for the mission ahead. Ben was far from convinced, especially when he saw the sly looks that Mickelwhite and his knights exchanged with each additional burden that they insisted he carry for them.
He knew that the captain and Valentine in particular both looked down their noses at him. He was scum to them: some poor boy from the East End, not fit to mix with the likes of them. They’d better watch out, Ben thought with a smile. Scum has a habit of rising to the top of the pond. When he’d been sure no one was looking, he had switched the silver Coin from his hatband to his pocket, and he touched it now for comfort. My time will come.
Carefully, so as not to make a sound, Jimmy Dips lowered the trapdoor back into place, and Ben was surprised to see that an old chair and a square of carpet were fixed to the door so that when it was closed there was no sign that it had even been there. Jimmy opened the shutters on the lantern a little wider to illuminate the room and Ben saw that they were in a basement, filled with old tea chests and junk. There wasn’t even the slightest clue that they were standing at an entrance to an underground world.
No, that wasn’t quite true. Ben looked closer and saw a symbol on the chair, no bigger than a farthing: the sign of the gauntleted fist. Ben smiled to himself; one day all the secrets of the Legion would be his.
“The Hag is the wickedest woman in London,” Mickelwhite explained. “All she wants to do is to ensnare the weak-minded and bind them to her will.”
Ben wasn’t really listening. They had been trawling the snowbound streets for almost two hours without even a sniff of the Watchers. They were never going to find Nathaniel at this rate.
Ben’s backpack felt as if Mickelwhite had slipped an anvil into it while he wasn’t looking; Ben knew that his shoulders were red and raw under the straps. The armour that had been so exciting to put on was nothing more than another deadweight to carry, and with their glorious captain leading them round in circles, the whole expedition was coming to nothing.
If Mickelwhite was the best that the Legion had to offer, then it would take him no time to rise through the ranks, Ben thought. And why stop at captain? Ben would be a knight commander, just like Claw Carter, and then Mickelwhite would be the one doing the saluting and carrying the bags.
On top of that, Ben still had the Roman Coin. He hadn’t forgotten that Ruby had been sniffing for it when they were in the laundry together, and he could tell from Carter’s icy calm when he first mentioned it in his study that the professor was keen to have it for himself. Surreptitiously, Ben’s fingers rubbed its smooth surface where it lay hidden in his pocket and he thrilled to the touch.
“Are you alright?” Ruby asked quietly.
“What’s it to you?” he snapped back.
She was obviously envious of him too, just like Mickelwhite. They all wanted to be Claw Carter’s favourite, they all wanted his Coin. Well, they would have to go on wanting. Ben Kingdom had waited long enough for his chance, and now that it had finally come his way, he wasn’t sharing it with anyone. He would reveal the Coin when he was good and ready, at precisely the right moment for maximum impact and personal glory.
Benjamin Kingdom, the hero of the Legion.
He caught Ruby’s eye to show her how glad he was that she had brought him into the Under. But for some inexplicable reason, the expression she gave him in return was filled with sadness.
Standing there on the rooftop at midnight, Molly Marbank felt very grown up indeed.
Josiah was brilliant, she thought. He let her stay up way past her bedtime and he was teaching her how to be a Watcher too. She had an extending ladder folded tight in her backpack, along with some supplies for the night and her own set of hand hooks for using on the slide ropes. She was getting quite good at running in her skyboots, even though she said it herself, although she wasn’t brave enough to try a jump on her own yet.
She was also making some new friends.
Molly had met all sorts of people in the Watchers. There was a blind man called Mr. Moon who was quite scary, although the others said he was fine once you got to know him. And there was a lovely old lady who looked after them all, and she was called Mother Shepherd, although Molly had called her “Granny” once by accident and everyone laughed. Just having them around made everyone feel safe.
And there were the others too, of course, standing side by side with her now on the roof tiles, London unaware below them: Josiah, the great and mighty Weeping Man; Lucy Lambert, a girl with a fiery temper, probably explained by the angry scar that she tried so hard to hide; Ghost, the African boy who never spoke a word and got his name because he moved so silently; and Nathaniel, her new big brother.
Molly smiled. What would anyone think if they could see them now?
“Watcher filth,” said Mickelwhite.
It was the stroke of midnight when they spotted them. Stark silhouettes against the night sky. Five spies hiding among the chimneys.
“Let’s get ’em,” hissed John Bedlam through gritted teeth.
Ben wasn’t sure whether Bedlam was filled with anger or frozen to the marrow. Chances were it was a bit of both. He knew that he was freezing cold and pretty cheesed off himself. They had been skulking around in the backstreets for what felt like ages, waiting for a glimpse of their enemies. It had got boring quicker than he’d expected. All soldiers were restless when they weren’t fighting, he supposed.
Plus he was getting a terrible crick in the back of his neck.
Ben was temporarily stunned when they finally found their foe. It was like looking into a mirror. The Watchers were just another gang of raggedy girls and boys. Although the Watchers had better jackets, he noted with envy.
They were too far away to make out their faces. All Ben could tell for certain was that there were four small childlike Watchers and a fifth, larger adult one. Pulling out the telescope he had stolen earlier, Ben put it to his eye to confirm his fear. There was no mistaking that outline. The long coat. The tall hat. It was a man that he had hoped never to see again. A man in black who carried a sword and cried in the night.
“It’s the
Weeping Man,” said Ben quietly.
“Then we’ll have to be especially careful not to be seen,” said Mickelwhite, “but the plan remains the same. We follow them at a distance, find out where their base is tonight, then return to the Under for reinforcements.”
“And then we come back and start smashing heads,” said Bedlam.
“And rescue my brother,” Ben added.
“That too,” said Bedlam with markedly less enthusiasm.
Mickelwhite split them into three groups, to increase their chances of tracking the Watchers, he said. Ben guessed the real reason though: Mickelwhite couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Jimmy Dips and Mickelwhite went one way, Schulman and Bedlam another, leaving Ben and Ruby Johnson alone.
“So,” said Ben, not certain where he stood with Ruby any more.
“So,” said Ruby.
“Are you ready for this?” asked Ben.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Ruby replied.
“Fine,” said Ben.
“Fine,” said Ruby. “Let’s go.”
Lucy spotted them first. “Movement, down there!”
“Quick,” said Nathaniel Kingdom, taking out his rope ladder and fixing it to the guttering with a swift sailor’s knot that he’d learned at the docks. “It could be him,” he said with excitement. Ghost nodded his agreement, his beautiful eyes bright in his dark face.
“I’ll go first,” said Lucy, swinging herself out over the edge of the roof, unmoved by either the height or what she might be facing when she reached the bottom.
Only Molly Marbank hesitated, seeing Josiah’s expression. “What are you thinking?” she asked him.
Josiah closed his eyes before answering. “Nathaniel believes that one word from him will be enough to bring his brother over from the side of darkness and into the light.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Molly was confused. “Don’t you want Benjamin to join the Watchers?”
The Claws of Evil Page 13