by C. S. Quinn
‘You saw them in the dressing room,’ said Charlie. ‘The Lord and Lady. Hiding where everyone can see.’ He was trying to figure out where the ceiling was least secure.
Repent shook his head in confusion. ‘You’re saying they used magic to hide down here?’
‘The Lord and Lady is the name given to the Crown Jewels,’ said Charlie, eyeing one of the rotten supporting beams. ‘The orb and sceptre. There are no fairies.’
‘It cannot be,’ said Repent, shaking his head in confusion. ‘All my life we have hunted . . .’
Taking advantage of Repent’s confusion, Charlie sent out a well-aimed kick. The beam split, but didn’t break as Charlie hoped. Repent turned around, face black with fury.
‘You fucking sneak thief,’ he said. ‘I’ll cut out your fucking eyes.’
Charlie kicked again, and this time the beam creaked and then gave way. He saw the ceiling above buckle and dived away. Repent lunged towards him, just as a tonne of London clay collapsed downwards, knocking him to the ground, burying him chest-deep in heavy earth.
Chapter 89
‘They call them the Lord and Lady,’ explained the King, ‘because of what they represent.’
‘Oh?’ Lynette was trying on a new dress, arranging it around her pale shoulders.
‘The straight sceptre is the man,’ continued the King, ‘the curving orb is the woman. It shows that a ruler must be balanced. Hold both powers equally.’
Lynette turned to face him, a pair of pearl earrings dangling from her hand. ‘But what has that to do with fairies?’ she asked.
‘England once had many gods,’ he said. ‘The Green Man in the fields, goddesses of the ash and elm, hearth and home. King Arthur, so the legend goes, won Pagans and Christians by honouring both in his rule. The old gods became fairies, a jewelled man and woman, held in a king’s hands at every coronation. His promise never to forget the old ways. The crown symbolises Jesus, the King of Kings.’
‘So your kingly power comes from some old leaf gods?’ laughed Lynette. She thought. ‘Is that where the alchemic symbols come from?’ she asked. ‘The circle and cross for a woman, stick with a cross for a man.’
Charles nodded. ‘Those symbols must be at every coronation for a king to be legitimate,’ he explained.
Lynette fitted the earrings into her ears. ‘Sounds like the sort of poppycock you nobles come up with,’ she agreed. ‘What d’yer think?’ she added, swinging around so her skirt twirled.
He stepped back to take her in: the green dress, simply cut to reveal her elegant figure and shining hair; the pearl earrings and necklace, luminous against her lovely skin.
‘You look good enough to be queen,’ he said admiringly.
She grinned. ‘And I am whore enough to be a duchess.’ Lynette moved forward and took his face in her hands. ‘You’re troubled?’ she asked. ‘About the Crown Jewels? You think they might show up in the hands of some dissenter and cause problems?’
‘There is some legal issue if they are found,’ admitted Charles. ‘We had new ones made, but we might have to consider a second coronation, which would problematise the first. Certainly, it would be embarrassing,’ he added, lifting his eyes to hers, dark and soulful. ‘As if my cursed reign need any more embarrassment.’
She kissed him on the mouth. ‘I always thought the King’s sceptre meant something different,’ she said, winking. ‘And I’ve some orbs of my own if you’d like to hold them.’
Chapter 90
Charlie broke through the secret door, into the King’s Theatre, eyes wide with terror.
‘They have him!’ he gasped, grasping Bolly’s skinny arm. ‘The fairies took him.’
Bolly released his grip on Lily. The apprentices were now uncertain. Without their leader they were in complete disarray.
Charlie turned to them, capitalising his advantage. ‘Repent is gone,’ he said. ‘You’ve broken inside the King’s Theatre. That’s treason.’
The boys looked at one another.
‘Already the King sends men,’ lied Charlie. ‘If you run now, no one will know you were here.’
The apprentices were inching back.
‘You’ll not tattle?’ confirmed a small red-haired boy nervously.
‘We never saw you,’ said Charlie. That convinced them. They fled as one, exiting through the main door and back out into Covent Garden.
Charlie moved towards Lily, then stopped himself. They looked at one another awkwardly.
‘Is your neck badly hurt?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve had worse. What happened down there?’
‘I distracted Repent with the truth,’ said Charlie. ‘Floored him with a few tonnes of loose soil. But he’ll be on his feet before long and now he knows what the Lord and Lady really are he’ll be after them. And if Barebones finds him . . .’
‘Let’s hope this Lord and Lady really can tell you how to find Maria,’ said Lily. ‘Let’s go.’
They raced to the chaotic backstage room and Charlie flung open the cupboard. He moved forward and pulled the Lord and Lady free from the other bedraggled props.
Lily was at his side. ‘This is them,’ she said in an awed whisper. ‘Hidden all these years. They must have appeared in a hundred or more plays.’
‘Every play with a coronation,’ agreed Charlie. ‘Disguised with cheap paint so everyone thought them painted lead.’
‘And no one noticed the treasure hiding with all the worthless things,’ said Lily.
In one hand Charlie held a curving orb, in the other a long sceptre. They’d been daubed with imitation gold, copper leaf ground down and faded over the years. But as Charlie rubbed away the old paint, a gleam of real gold flashed through.
‘So this was what Cromwell tried so hard to destroy,’ said Lily. ‘The Crown Jewels.’
Chapter 91
Tom felt the old sickness in his stomach. The fairy potion.
To dull the senses and keep him confused.
Thoughts had become slippery. He could see a familiar gilded mirror, but that wasn’t possible.
‘You’re not here,’ he told the mirror. ‘You broke.’
Then an icy winter world appeared in the mirror and the boy stepped forward, wrapped in furs. He stood in a dark theatre with twisted trees growing from the stage and ragged gossamer for curtains. A bell sounded, far away.
‘They’re coming,’ whispered Tom. ‘The Lord and Lady. I can feel it. We’re going home.’
‘I?’ The boy gave a hard laugh. ‘You imagine I could return, after all these years? Look at me. Look at what you have done to me.’
Tom looked. For the first time he realised that the boy was as small and pale as when he’d first appeared, all those years ago, by the hot fire.
‘You didn’t grow older,’ said Tom.
‘You imagine I could simply come back?’ demanded the boy. ‘A grown man in a child’s body? I would be the stuff of the circus.’ He struck suddenly forward, and a deep crack appeared.
Tom drew back, mouth dropping open in horror. ‘You tricked me,’ said Tom.
The boy stared at the crack in the mirror. Slowly he brought his pale fingers to touch it. ‘Charlie Tuesday will learn your true name,’ he said. ‘He searches even now. Soon he will match your face to the one he knows from before.’
More bells sounded, jangling from the fairy place.
Tom clamped both hands over his ears. ‘Stop,’ gasped Tom. ‘Stop.’ He pressed so tight he felt his skull would burst, but the ringing only grew louder. In the mirror he saw a trickle of blood escaping his nose. He fell to his knees, head pounding.
The boy stepped forward. His palm rested on the splintered glass and began to glow.
‘You grow weaker,’ said the boy. ‘And you can no longer contain me here. Did you see what I did to Bridey?’
The cracked glass feathered in a hundred directions like a spider’s web.
‘No!’ said Tom, making to cover the mirror. But it was too late. The glass f
ell away and the boy stepped forward and grasped his hands.
Tom felt them grow burning hot. The boy brought his small face very close to Tom’s.
‘You were right,’ he said softly. ‘I tricked you. I never meant to change places. My body is small and weak from the fairy world. To survive here I need a human form. You’ve stolen my life all these years. I think I’ll take yours.’ And he stepped forward into Tom’s body.
The boy blinked, turning his head experimentally left and right. He appeared to be in some kind of attic. The theatre. He remembered now. Then he saw the girl, Maria, chained in the corner. His mouth lifted cruelly, eyes considering the burning candle.
‘How good to see you here,’ he said, his voice brittle, the words over-nuanced. ‘I have great plans for you.’
‘Where is Tom?’ Maria chose her words carefully.
‘There is no Tom now,’ he said. ‘He is gone. Only Robin Goodfellow remains.’
Chapter 92
Charlie was holding the lost Crown Jewels. They were heavy.
‘We must find Maria,’ he said. ‘Tom Black said the Lady would tell us how.’
‘Have you run mad?’ demanded Lily. ‘Charlie, don’t you see? London is in chaos. These jewels could pay for troops to put down the riots. The pearls alone . . .’
‘So what do you suggest?’ asked Charlie. ‘We give up on Maria? Deliver these jewels to the King? I won’t do it.’
Lily grabbed his arm. ‘Charlie, wait. Think. What could a Cromwellian do with England’s lost Crown Jewels, in the midst of the biggest riot London has ever seen?’
Charlie felt his throat tighten. ‘I suppose they could incite a mob to march on Whitehall. Claiming the King was never truly crowned.’
‘The King would have no choice but to attack his own people,’ said Lily. ‘All-out war. Charlie, I could take the Crown Jewels to the Earl of Amesbury. He’s not sentimental. He’d clip off the gems and have men mobilised within a few hours.’
‘I won’t risk Maria’s life. She was taken because she was trying to help me.’
‘Take them to Maria’s betrothed then,’ bartered Lily. ‘The lawyer.’
‘Percy?’
‘He is the only one with the right to make this decision,’ said Lily. She was watching his face carefully. ‘Or do you think otherwise?’
‘You think I’ll leave Maria to be tortured to death?’
‘Charlie, if it’s her or England, she’d want you to choose England,’ said Lily softly.
‘Enough,’ snapped Charlie. ‘All you care about is earning the King’s regard. You want to return the jewels so he might give you gold and lands. Or is it something else?’ He glared back.
Lily’s expression twisted in affront. ‘That’s what you think of me?’ she said quietly. ‘I want to play royal courtesan?’
‘I should have known what to expect from a gypsy.’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted it.
Lily stood for a moment, her mouth open. Then she shut it tight and turned away. ‘I’m going to find Percy,’ she said. ‘He should know what you plan on doing in the name of his wife-to-be. You’re on your own,’ she threw back over her shoulder as she stalked away. ‘You always were.’
Chapter 93
In the tunnels beneath King’s Theatre, Barebones was digging Repent free. He’d been buried to his waist by the fallen ceiling.
‘You’re fortunate young Bolly was good enough to find me,’ said Barebones. ‘You could have been here for days.’
Repent coughed, trying to pull his legs out of the heavy earth.
‘You’ve been drinking wine, boy,’ said Barebones. ‘I can smell it on you. Think yourself a lord now, do you? Thought you could take the city with a pack of drunken boys?’ The old soldier shook his head disdainfully.
‘We got into Covent Garden, Father,’ said Repent, freeing one leg, then another. ‘Further than any apprentice ever dared.’
‘Your only thoughts were to indulge your lusts and bodily pleasures,’ said Barebones in disgust. ‘You lost all hope of finding the Lord and Lady. How are we to discover the dress in this chaos?’
‘I found the dress.’ Repent couldn’t keep the pride from his voice. ‘I found the Lord and Lady.’
‘What?’ Barebones barked.
‘You were wrong,’ said Repent, relishing the words. ‘All these years you’ve been chasing something that doesn’t exist.’ He rubbed his legs.
Barebones’s expression was stony. ‘Out with it boy. What do you suppose to have found?’
‘The Lord and Lady are the Crown Jewels,’ said Repent. ‘The thief taker told me. Cromwell hid away the orb and sceptre. Tried to burn ’em. All that time,’ concluded Repent nastily, ‘you thought yourself Cromwell’s chosen one. ’E ’ad you thinkin’ you guarded fairy folk. Old Ironsides must ’a bin laughing at you behind your back.’
Barebones’s expression was tight with rage. ‘The orb and sceptre,’ he asked quietly. ‘Does the thief taker have them?’
‘He tricked me,’ whined Repent childishly. ‘Lured me down here.’
‘He’ll take them to Tom Black,’ said Barebones. He rubbed his face, thinking, then began hauling Repent free from the earth. ‘The people rise,’ said Barebones, considering. ‘The King has no guard.’ He turned to Bolly. ‘How many riot?’
‘They fill the roads from Threadneedle to St Paul’s,’ said Bolly. ‘Covent Garden is thick with apprentices. I’d say forty thousand have taken to the streets.’
‘At least a quarter will be starving ragged folk,’ calculated Barebones. ‘Good cannon fodder, easily led. Half will be lusty young boys’ – he cast a sad look at Repent – ‘looking only for wine and frivolity. But that leaves perhaps ten thousand good men, who mean to fight for a real cause.’
‘The whores were organised,’ offered Repent, keen to be part of the discussion. ‘They threw chamber pots, made theatre tricks.’
‘Mrs Jenks?’ said Barebones.
Repent nodded.
‘She thinks herself clever as the devil himself,’ said Barebones, his voice tight with contempt. ‘Women like her are the festering canker at the heart of London’s sin.’ He thought some more. ‘Where is she now?’
‘They all fled to the Golden Apple,’ said Bolly. ‘It’s the only safe place in Covent Garden. Thick doors, and even the rioters don’t dare attack. It’s the King’s place. His women inside.’
‘There will be gunpowder inside the Golden Apple,’ said Barebones. ‘For theatre tricks.’
‘If we have ten thousand troops we have no need for gunpowder,’ said Bolly. ‘Most on the streets are armed. Pikes and staves. Attacking the Golden Apple lays us open to a treason charge.’
‘Do we let old whores laugh at us now?’ demanded Barebones. ‘Gunpowder would make a statement. We take the Golden Apple.’
Chapter 94
Charlie watched Lily go, resisting the urge to follow.
She’s not in any danger, he reminded himself. Don’t fail Maria now.
But first he had to find her. He called to mind Tom Black’s words: ‘The Lady will tell you where to find me.’ But how was that possible? ‘The Lady’ was nothing but a ball of gold.
Charlie rested the sceptre down and concentrated on the orb. Then he took the edge of his coat and scuffed away the old paint. More gleaming gold was revealed, along with a row of tiny pearls and some large red rubies and emeralds.
Charlie held it to the light.
This was ancient treasure. Could it really have fairy magic? Charlie ran through what he knew about fairies. Should he run widdershins around a church, perhaps?
The heavy orb rested in his hand. Charlie closed his eyes, trying to feel for some magical power. But there was nothing. He remembered what the cunning woman had told him: ‘You know Tom Black very well . . . You need only discover his true name.’
Was Tom Black’s identity a clue? Charlie looked back to the orb.
‘You’re just a lump of gold and jewels,’
he decided.
Charlie let his hand run along the jewels. They formed a belt around the middle of the orb.
‘The girdled lady,’ he muttered. It reminded him of something. He fished inside his coat for the poem Tom Black had left him and read it from memory, staring at the paper for clues.
Deep and dark the old ones sleep,
Crowned Lord and girdled Lady of the Keep,
Around the first and last, they will come,
And false earthly Kings will be undone.
‘What does it mean?’ whispered Charlie. The image of Maria in danger loomed suddenly, so clear and real it was overwhelming.
What if Lily was right? said a voice in his head. Tom Black is playing you, leading you to a dead end. Maria will die whilst you try to solve an impossible puzzle.
Either way, Charlie decided, he needed to leave before the apprentices returned and found him standing with the Crown Jewels. But just as he moved away from the mirror, he noticed something.
One of the letters of the poem was a strange shape. A ‘t’ was much shorter and broader than its fellows. It matched the cross on the top of the orb.
Slowly Charlie moved the drawn cross to the one on the top of the orb, lining up the two. The paper fitted perfectly around the orb, Charlie realised, wrapping it.
Beneath the paper the red of the rubies could just be seen. Their soft light aligned with three words from the poem. Charlie read them aloud slowly and painstakingly. ‘Girdle. Around. Earth.’
Where had he heard that before?
The answer came to him almost immediately. He saw Lynette’s smiling face, back when they were young and recently married, reading from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. ‘I’ll put a girdle round about the earth.’
A fairy had said it, he thought. Puck. Did that mean something? He let his mind roam larger, scanning London, searching for a fit.
It was theatrical, of course. The clue could be that Maria was held in a theatre. But those numbered in the hundreds, if you included the illegals.
Charlie tapped the paper against his hand. Then he remembered. There was one theatre, famed for Shakespeare plays, that would make the perfect place to hold a kidnapped girl. It had been partly destroyed and abandoned since the war.