The Changeling Murders (The Thief Taker Series Book 4)

by C. S. Quinn

  ‘What are they?’ asked Lily.

  Charlie told her.

  Lily’s eyes bulged wide. ‘No wonder Cromwell wanted them destroyed,’ she said. ‘Charlie, the apprentices are attacking the theatres. What if Barebones finds them?’

  ‘If he stumbles upon them, he’s clever enough to make the connection,’ said Charlie. ‘And both the Crown and Maria will be lost.’

  ‘And we’re trapped.’ Lily slammed a fist on the door in annoyance.

  Charlie eyed the window. Apprentices were still shouting outside.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he said, moving to the small grate. He cupped his hands and shouted through. ‘Barebones is in here!’ Charlie watched as a few apprentices turned to listen, then shouted it again. He moved away from the window and sat back on the bench. ‘They’re coming,’ he said. ‘We’ll soon be free.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Lily. ‘If the Lord and Lady are what you think, they’ll be in the King’s Theatre?’

  Charlie nodded.

  Lily was shaking her head. ‘Surely you don’t expect us to walk into the heart of the riot?’

  ‘I must save Maria.’

  ‘Must you?’ Her dark eyes searched his. ‘Or do you want to rescue a mother who died a long time ago?’

  Charlie found he couldn’t answer.

  Lily looked away. Charlie caught her hand and she turned back, an unreadable expression on her face.

  They heard apprentices approach the door outside and hands fall on the heavy wooden bolt.

  ‘What of your privateer’s licence?’ said Charlie. ‘The Lord and Lady will buy back your favour with the King.’

  ‘It’s not enough, Charlie.’

  ‘Then what? What would buy you?’

  Her little chin was tilted up. ‘Hasn’t London’s best thief taker figured it out?’ she said. ‘I don’t want money.’ Lily walked towards the door.

  ‘I need you, Lily. I can’t do it without you.’

  Lily stopped and turned. She stood for a long moment, assessing him, then stepped closer. ‘I want what you should have offered me,’ she said, ‘when you left.’

  Charlie felt blood rush to his head. ‘Which was?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘A partnership,’ she said. ‘You’re London’s best thief taker, Charlie. Everyone knows it. But you can’t turn down a lost cause or a lame dog. You need someone to manage your work and chase your debts. Or you’ll still be living hand-to-mouth above a butcher’s shop on your dying day.’

  She was right, Charlie knew it. But for some reason he felt disappointed. He tried to catch hold of his swirling thoughts, but something about Lily’s proximity made them skitter away. He forced himself to focus, remembering Maria.

  ‘Very well,’ he heard himself saying. ‘If that’s what it will take. When this is over, we’ll be partners.’

  Lily nodded firmly. ‘Good.’ But there was a shade of disappointment in her tone.

  She took his hand and shook it. He found his fingers lingering on hers a little too long.

  The door began to open.

  ‘Now,’ said Lily, her usual determined expression resolving itself, ‘let’s go get ourselves killed.’

  Chapter 79

  The apprentices were lined up at the entrance of Covent Garden, their blue aprons bloody, young faces flush with drink and excitement.

  ‘The King’s Theatre,’ said Repent, pointing. ‘Through Drury Lane. Let’s tear down the King’s sin shop.’

  The apprentices were taking in the length of Drury Lane, with its cobbled streets and brick buildings.

  ‘You’re sure there’s enough of us?’ Bolly glanced behind him. ‘Others come this way, there’s strength in numbers.’

  ‘There’s nothin’ in Covent Garden but drunks and whores,’ said Repent scornfully. ‘We’re soldiers, fightin’ against the throne. We don’t want our glory to go to a ragged mob.’

  A figure emerged, alone on the street. A woman in a fine dress, walking slowly towards them. She held a dark mask to her face and wore curling goat horns on her head.

  ‘Look at this,’ said one of the apprentices, grabbing at his groin. ‘Someone wants to have some fun with us.’ But he sounded uneasy.

  The woman stepped closer, then drew away the mask. Beneath was a strikingly pale face, with disconcertingly large pupils and false blonde hair. Her expression was vacant, far removed.

  ‘Is she possessed?’ whispered one boy.

  ‘I know you,’ crowed Repent. ‘It’s the famous Mrs Jenks. Think you to threaten us?’

  Mrs Jenks’s haunted expression didn’t change. But her eyes settled on Repent’s face. ‘This is our place,’ she said, throwing her voice wide and high. ‘We mean to hold it.’

  ‘Repent,’ said Bolly, tugging his arm. ‘We should be careful. Mrs Jenks is the doxy queen. Trickier than a serpent she is.’

  Repent started laughing. ‘Is that so?’ Repent hefted his sword of garters. ‘What think you, lads? Shall we let a whore bandy words with us? Mrs Jenks’s whores work the playhouses, isn’t that right? Shall we break up her theatre of sin?’

  There was a roar of assent from the crowd. The apprentices were drunk with violence now, fuelled by stolen wine and the heady thrill of power.

  ‘An attack on the King’s Theatre is an attack on the King,’ said Mrs Jenks. ‘We have every right to defend ourselves.’

  ‘You and whose army?’ Repent grinned. ‘You’ll need more than a few whores to stop us, and the last I heard you were all fighting amongst yourselves.’

  ‘I don’t need an army.’ Mrs Jenks smiled.

  Several apprentices dropped back uneasily.

  ‘Didn’t you know?’ whispered Mrs Jenks, eyes widening dramatically. ‘Us whores are in league with the devil.’ She gazed at them, her strangely dilated eyes, doll-white face and smiling vermillion lips. ‘We heard there was an army of you,’ she said. ‘We prepared for such. But I see no army here. I see no soldiers. Nothing but half-starved boys, addled with drink and far from home.’

  Suddenly an explosion sounded. Then a ball of stinking yellow smoke rolled out from both sides of the street. The apprentices started, coughing and covering their mouths.

  When the mist cleared, Mrs Jenks had vanished. A few apprentices gasped.

  ‘Where did the fine whore go?’ demanded one, peering into the thick smoke.

  ‘She makes witchcraft,’ muttered another.

  ‘Hold firm,’ said Repent. ‘She’s an actress. She only plays a part. Uses theatre things to frighten us. Advance.’

  They began to move further into the lane. It was eerily quiet.

  ‘See how she runs,’ crowed Repent. ‘Let’s show her what bravery is, lads!’

  ‘Where are all the women?’ asked an apprentice, staring at the empty street.

  ‘Run, fled,’ said Repent with satisfaction. ‘Let’s start tearing down buildings.’

  There was a sudden yodelling shriek, high-pitched and distinctly female. It seemed to come from high up. A few apprentices started in confusion. It came again. From somewhere in the rooftops. Now everyone was looking, shouldering weapons, faces to the sky.

  The missiles came from every upper window. First a deluge of stinking liquid sprayed the crowd. Then the first unmistakable spatter of excrement hit the upturned faces.

  ‘The chamber pots!’ cried a shocked apprentice. ‘The whores are emptying their pots.’

  When the second wave of urine and faeces flew from the upper windows, the apprentices were in disarray. They flung up their arms and ran to the sides of the street to gain shelter.

  ‘Piss off!’ bellowed a woman’s voice from one of the nearer windows. ‘Covent Garden’s ours!’

  The first chamber pot smashed onto the cobbles, narrowly missing the apprentices. It exploded into ceramic shrapnel, sharp pieces flying into the mob. The second knocked an apprentice to the ground, breaking his nose in a spray of blood.

  A girlish cheer went up along the street. More chamber pots began to smash agains
t the cobbles. Then came a sudden deafening boom like thunder. A flash of lightening. More yellow smoke poured down the street.

  Cries of alarm went up from the apprentices. Several ducked.

  A great grinning devil’s head appeared before them, floating in the smoke. Another thunder crack echoed around, and a spurt of flames appeared from the red mouth of the fiend, jetting out towards the mob.

  The apprentices fled in all directions, the ceramic chamber pots spattering them as they retreated.

  ‘Hold!’ shouted Repent, but the onslaught was too acute. His eyes surveyed the winding streets. ‘The marketplace!’ he commanded. ‘To Covent Garden market!’

  Chapter 80

  ‘I’m telling you,’ said Lily, ‘there’s no way into Covent Garden. The mob mean to take the King’s Theatre. They’ll have broken in and sacked it by now.’

  ‘Perhaps not.’ Charlie was eyeing the smoky sky. ‘No fires have been started west of Covent Garden market. I think the whores might be defending their own.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘Even so, there’s no way in.’

  ‘There have always been tunnels between the Strand and Covent Garden,’ said Charlie. ‘They transport wine and beer barrels to the taverns and theatres. More recently King Charles used an old tunnel to visit an actress in The Swan. That’s in the heart of Covent Garden.’

  ‘He hasn’t been seen with that actress for years,’ said Lily.

  ‘But the King does often arrive at the King’s Theatre unexpectedly,’ said Charlie. ‘The Swan is very near. What if he had his old tunnel rerouted? The original tunnel starts in a grocer’s shop on Catherine Street,’ Charlie added. ‘All we need do is get inside their cellar and discover where the hidden door is.’

  ‘Simple,’ said Lily, taking in Charlie’s patched breeches and worn leather coat. ‘They’ll call the watch on us as thieves before we take two steps inside.’

  ‘All have packed up to protect themselves from looters,’ Charlie pointed out. ‘We need only break into an empty premises and get down into the cellar.’

  ‘It’s a plan with no flaw,’ said Lily. ‘To save time later, shall we get some hemp rope and hang nooses around our necks as we carry it out?’

  Chapter 81

  The apprentices poured through Long Acre and into the wide muddy expanse of Covent Garden fruit market. They were met by the confused stares of fruit sellers, peddling the last of the day’s wares.

  ‘We will regroup!’ said Repent. But the apprentices were tired, injured and sewage-streaked. They were drifting away, vanishing between the fruit and vegetable stalls.

  ‘Courage!’ tried Repent. But no one was listening.

  An apprentice tendered a pat on Repent’s arm. ‘We’ve had our fun,’ he said. ‘We’re going home before they hang us. Best you do the same.’

  Repent’s pale face was set in rage. He stood for a long moment, watching his forces disappear. Then, from around the corner, emerged a blue-aproned army. Repent watched, surprised, pride flooding through him.

  They were older apprentices, muscular from hard work and tough from London life. The men wore sashes of green, the Republic colour, and brandished poles, staves and house-pulling hooks.

  One saw the battered gaggle of apprentices amongst the mouldering fruit and vegetables. ‘You’re covered in shit, boys,’ he observed.

  ‘The whores,’ said Repent. ‘They threw chamber pots.’

  The older apprentice laughed. ‘We heard you little ones were having a party,’ he said. ‘Thought you’d take Covent Garden without us? A little starving rabble of the poorest trades.’ He assessed the boys. ‘What you got? A few plasterers and wheelwrights and painter-stainers.’

  ‘’E’s a locksmith,’ said Repent, nodding to Bolly nervously.

  ‘Well, you got the mercers and the goldsmiths now.’ The older boy smiled. ‘They sell it like a dream, the high-ups. Work hard, you’ll get your rewards. But every day that passes, every day you wear the skin from your fingers, you realise. You’ll always be dirt poor. Nose pressed up against the glass, looking in.’ He slapped Repent hard on the back. ‘And you little boys had the balls to do it,’ he said. ‘Our fathers had their glory, didn’t they? Soldiering, winning wars. What have we got? Work hard till you die. And watch all the girls get ahead of you by lifting their skirts.’ His eyes drifted to Covent Garden, the hedonistic loins of London. ‘Might as well have some fun along the way.’

  ‘We mean to take the King’s Theatre,’ said Repent. ‘Actresses. Wine. Come with us.’

  Chapter 82

  ‘You never told me you were such a good burglar,’ said Lily, as Charlie slid an expert hand around the back window of Bourne Brothers Grocers. They’d got into the merchant house’s little garden through a stable block behind. Medicinal herbs grew in neat quadrants, releasing a gentle mix of fragrances.

  ‘Hunger was a powerful teacher,’ said Charlie. He slid his hand inside and pressed where he knew the catch to be weak. ‘Lucky it’s an old style of casement,’ he added. ‘I haven’t done this in a long time.’

  Charlie slipped through and landed lightly on bare wooden floorboards. The room was a wrapping area for food and wares purchased in the front shop. A number of hanging hooks held wads of thick blue paper ready to package sweets and confections. Cloths to wrap cheese were soaking in lemon water.

  A large serving hatch divided the back room from the front grocer. Charlie could see a wide wooden countertop, polished to a high shine with lavender oil and displaying an ostentatious set of brass weighing scales on top.

  Behind him, Charlie heard Lily slide in through the window.

  ‘Now where?’ she asked.

  ‘Shhh.’ Charlie raised a finger to his lips and pointed to the ceiling. ‘The merchant and his family live above the shop. They might be holed up there, waiting for the riots to pass.’

  Lily nodded. ‘Where’s the cellar door?’ she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper.

  ‘Outside on the street, at the front of the shop,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Then why aren’t we there?’ asked Lily.

  ‘Because the opening is sealed with a thick bolt and in plain view,’ said Charlie. ‘But the merchants most likely keep an extra hatch,’ he added, ‘for sending up smaller consignments of stock.’

  He moved into the front shop. Shadowy shelving was lined with decorative ceramic jars and canisters. A pungent aroma of cardamom, nutmeg, rose oil and pig fat hung in the air. Charlie crept towards a large rug that lay on the floor and lifted it. Beneath was a trapdoor with a circular brass pull sunk into the wood.

  ‘Here,’ he said, hooking his finger through it and lifting. ‘This way.’

  The trapdoor opened smoothly to reveal a set of steps leading into the dark. They heard the patter of mice scattering below. Charlie peered into the gloom. He could make out a few bulging sacks.

  There was a sudden sound of rapid footsteps from above. A door crashed open.

  ‘Someone heard us,’ said Charlie, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. ‘We need to go.’

  They raced fast down the wooden cellar steps and closed the trapdoor above them. It was almost entirely dark, with only the barest chink of shadowy light showing from between the gaps in the floorboards.

  ‘What now?’ hissed Lily. ‘We’re trapped down here.’

  ‘We’ll find the tunnel,’ said Charlie, feeling in the dark. He stumbled over a sack of coffee beans. ‘If the King used it, it won’t be well hidden.’

  ‘Who’s there?’ demanded a voice above them. ‘I know you’re here, you villains! You’ll not rob us under the cover of riots!’

  ‘They think we’re apprentices,’ said Lily.

  ‘So they’ll shoot first and ask questions later,’ said Charlie. ‘An apprentice’s life isn’t worth a single sack of this stock.’

  The trapdoor above them raised a few inches and the muzzle of a gun poked through.

  ‘Take cover!’ hissed Charlie, pulling Lily behind a row of tea crates.


  The explosion blew apart a box of sweet oranges, spraying them with juice.

  ‘This way,’ said Charlie, grabbing Lily’s hand. ‘I think I saw an archway that could be a door.’

  They negotiated the stock, feeling in the dark until they reached a brick wall. Charlie ranged his hands over it.

  A fine powder drifted down between the cracks in the floor. Lily swabbed at her shoulder where some had landed and licked her finger.

  ‘Gunpowder,’ she said, looking up. ‘Someone is reloading, badly.’

  Charlie’s hands found wood and a royal crest. ‘I think it’s here!’ he said. ‘A door.’ But in the dark, he couldn’t find a catch. Behind them, the cellar door levered open a few inches once more.

  ‘Rogues!’ shouted a tremulous voice. ‘I’ve called the Watch!’

  Charlie heard the click of the gun being cocked and realised they’d never make it through in time.

  Then a female voice rang out from above. ‘You’ll destroy our stock, you dolt! Give me the gun!’

  Charlie’s hand found the catch. He pushed, and the door swung open. And as the merchant’s wife admonished her husband in the shop above, Charlie and Lily disappeared into the dark.

  Chapter 83

  Lynette felt the carriage wheels turn beneath her and grinned excitedly. It was the first time she’d ever been alone in a carriage. Now there was no one to see, she let her fingers travel across the padded silk lining the interior walls.

  Her carriage. She reminded herself. Her liveried driver. Were they her horses too? She supposed they must be. It was overwhelming. She had to stop herself bouncing with glee.

  It was noisy outside on the street and Lynette’s instinct for London flared. She knocked on the roof of the carriage.