The Changeling Murders (The Thief Taker Series Book 4)

by C. S. Quinn

  The Globe Theatre.

  Charlie called it to mind. Cromwell’s soldiers had torn apart the famous theatre and it had been fenced off to be sold for tenements. But money to build had not been forthcoming. Many believed it haunted. The more Charlie considered it, the more certain he became.

  ‘An old abandoned stage,’ murmured Charlie. ‘What better place for a man like Tom Black to keep a prisoner?’

  Charlie cast his eyes around the room, grabbed up a discarded turban, unravelled the long colourful fabric and wrapped it around the jewels.

  The Globe was south of the river. The sun was setting. He judged there to be less than an hour until Lent was over.

  He heard Lily’s voice, as if speaking from another place. ‘The country will be at war,’ she was saying. ‘And this time there’s no Cromwell, no defender of the people. Only a madman with a talent for acting.’

  He tried to think what Maria would suggest. He saw her coming out from the dark, her blonde hair and even features.

  ‘Tom Black is a performer,’ she said. ‘Go see his play.’

  Chapter 95

  The Birdcage dressing room was empty. Lynette sighed. The apprentices had them running scared. No one wanted to hang around. Not to mention the barrel of punch had been finished. Of course they would have all gone to the alehouse. She’d given up drinking a long time ago. Shortly after they’d dragged her gin-soaked mother out of Vauxhall pond.

  Lynette’s costume sat heavily on her shoulders. Titania from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The fairy Queen. There was no one to help her undress, but she had had years of practice unfastening her own clothing.

  Slowly she began unlacing and unbuttoning, careful not to pull any threads. Actresses paid for costume damage. As she let the front of the dress fall, she realised there was something tucked into the seam. A piece of paper she hadn’t seen before. Some love letter, she assumed, but its presence made her suddenly uneasy. How had someone got into her dressing room unseen and put something inside her costume?

  All was quiet. Now that she thought about it, that was strange. Even with the cast gone there were always seamstresses and servant-boys, orange girls and beggars milling about after a performance.

  Her eyes settled back on the note, regretting her illiteracy. There were symbols though. Things she recognised. Male and female. Him and her. The Lord and Lady.

  Something told her she should leave.

  Take off the costume, she reminded herself. You can’t risk damaging it.

  Lynette’s fingers worked fast now, picking up the skirts and tugging them over her head.

  For a moment she was blind. And it was then that she heard a movement behind her. Like soft footsteps. In a panic she snagged the fabric on a hair pin as she pulled the dress free.

  That’s this week’s wages. Lynette was annoyed with herself now, looking about her for the mysterious sound. Nothing. Then she saw him. Tall, dark and not-quite-handsome, sitting easily on one of the prop tables.

  ‘Hello, Lynette.’ He smiled.

  Her face flashed recognition. ‘You,’ she managed.

  He smiled. ‘I’ve come to take you away.’

  Chapter 96

  Southwark felt eerily quiet as Charlie made his way towards the Globe Theatre. The orb and sceptre clanked uncomfortably at his side, wrapped in their makeshift covering. He made out a long wicker fence that surrounded where the Globe had once stood.

  Charlie stood looking at the fence. It was old and had sprouted in places. His mind drifted to Lily, somewhere else in the city. Perhaps informing the King that his precious Crown Jewels had been recovered. Charlie had never felt so alone.

  Charlie secured the Crown Jewels to his belt, then took a few steps back, ran at the fence and leapt high, grasping the top with his fingertips and hauling himself up. He dropped down behind the fence, the long sceptre making his landing ungainly.

  Inside was the remains of the Globe Theatre. Without any people, it seemed far bigger than Charlie remembered. The enormous stage jutted forth, its square shape large enough to fit a London house, the planks smashed in several places by heavy axe blows.

  Charlie’s heart beat faster. Someone had set the stage for his arrival. He moved nearer.

  Two candles flickered at the edge and an old canvas scene had been roughly arranged. The painted display showed the inside of a tomb.

  A heavy ‘thunk’ rang out and a noose dropped down from the overhang above the stage, swinging with the motion of its fall. He recognised the sound with a sick feeling in his stomach. It was the same mechanical reverberation that had preceded the hanging corpse in the Birdcage.

  Charlie looked on and, as he watched, the noose began retracting upwards, with a loud ratcheting. He was sure Tom Black’s skill in theatre effects had allowed him to set up this drop from a distance. Which meant Maria’s kidnapper could be anywhere in the Globe.

  Keep calm, Charlie warned himself. He’s watching you. Don’t let him read what you’re thinking.

  He forced himself to steady his breathing, to take in the wider theatre. There was a sound behind him. Very faint, but to Charlie’s trained ear it was the unmistakable click of a latch sliding into place. Then a dead woman rolled towards him from underneath the stage.

  Charlie froze as the pale face of the corpse slumped to a halt at his feet. The eyes were yellow, a stranger’s eyes. A street seller or some other low trade, he thought, by the gaunt fatigue of her dead face.

  But the clothes she wore made his breath catch in his throat. Charlie knew what it meant. Another changeling. Tom Black had taken her.

  It’s a trick, Charlie told himself, the terribly familiar clothes making his heart beat faster. He doesn’t have her. How could he?

  But a terrible fear was coiling around his heart.

  His eyes ranged the theatre. He couldn’t see or hear Maria. The only place she could be was up above, he decided. There was a vast overhang held up by mock Grecian pillars.

  An explosion sounded from the direction of the stage and smoke filled the air. A stench of sulphurous burning reached Charlie’s nostrils. He looked to see a man had appeared on stage. Charlie had seen those pale eyes before.

  The actor took a low bow. Charlie swallowed hard. He recognised him all too well. His appearance was completely different now, as if an entirely different man inhabited his body. But there was no mistaking it. Standing before him on the stage was the man Charlie had thought was Percy.

  Chapter 97

  The apprentices had amassed outside the Golden Apple. They were armed for destruction.

  The thick wooden doors of the illegal theatre were bolted shut. Its brick walls seemed to offer an impenetrable fortress.

  ‘We come for the gunpowder!’ bellowed Barebones. ‘Give it up and perhaps we’ll be easier on your girls.’

  They were met with silence.

  ‘Pull it down!’ boomed Barebones. ‘We’ll see how brave the little duckies are when we pluck them from their nests.’

  Men hefted their staves. Then a window opened on the first floor. A familiar figure stepped onto the balcony.

  ‘Barebones,’ said Mrs Jenks. ‘Do not drag these poor boys to the noose with you. If you attack the theatre, there’s no going back. This is no brothel.’

  ‘His Majesty has deserted you,’ said Barebones. ‘Left you to your fate. Like all old whores. Your theatre trickery won’t work a second time. We’ll take your gunpowder and storm Whitehall.’

  A shape appeared behind Mrs Jenks. A second woman. Mother Mitchell stepped onto the balcony. She took Mrs Jenks’s hand. ‘We stand for the King,’ she said. ‘He has been good to us, and we do not forget our debts.’

  ‘We’ll burn you out,’ said Barebones. ‘And pull down your houses. Destroy your fine clothes and jewels.’

  Mother Mitchell narrowed her small eyes. ‘Then do your worst. But know this. We whored these streets whilst you silly men had your wars. Your fellows are long dead and we remain. There have been whores in Co
vent Garden since London began and when you are long gone here we shall be.’

  Barebones laughed. ‘I fought for Cromwell, you stupid hag.’ He spat in the dust. ‘I’ve gutted fat old hens like you for sport. You’re about to find out what war really is.’ He eyed the door. ‘Break it down,’ he said. ‘Get to the gunpowder. If anyone stands in your way, kill them.’

  Chapter 98

  Charlie closed his eyes and opened them again. But the likeness was unmistakable. Tom had masqueraded as Percy. And Charlie had never questioned that the man at the Birdcage wasn’t Maria’s betrothed.

  Charlie wondered vaguely what had happened to the real Percy. Was he somewhere in London, uncertain where Maria was? Or had Tom killed him?

  If Tom had acted a part to perfection, there was nothing of that man left now. Where Percy had been uncertain and stuffy, this man burned with a fanatical intensity. The transformation was incredible.

  ‘Charlie Tuesday, did you enjoy my performance?’ said Tom, smiling. He narrowed his eyes slightly, letting his body assume a more nervous, twitching air and adding a haughty superiority to his voice. ‘My wife would never do acting,’ he said, morphing into the part of Percy with such skill that he seemed to be a different man entirely.

  Charlie said nothing. He was madly trying to work out Maria’s whereabouts.

  ‘And yet Maria will act,’ said Tom, his eyes flicking upwards. ‘I have a very special part for her.’ Tom straightened, his fingertips tapping a dance on one another. ‘Fairy folk know about circles of power,’ he said. ‘Take a man away from his and you remove his strength. And yours is the old city. The wandering alleys and grimy streets. But here you are quite exposed.’

  ‘Not everyone does as you expect,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I hoped for many years that that was the case,’ said Tom. ‘I searched for a worthy opponent for a long time. I had high hopes for you.’ His eyes dropped to the orb and sceptre, wrapped in their turban. ‘Did you bring me the Lord and Lady?’

  Charlie nodded, unwrapping the turban to reveal the jewels. A strange feral expression flared in Tom’s face and he instinctively took a step towards them.

  Charlie drew back. ‘First deliver me Maria safe,’ he said.

  Tom smiled as if this childish request was to be expected. ‘It wouldn’t be a play,’ he said, ‘without our leading ladies.’

  He moved to the side of the stage and manoeuvred a large lever. There was a clanking sound and then a whirring. A wooden platform lowered slowly down. Charlie felt time stand still. On it were two women.

  They had ropes around their necks, hands bound behind their backs. Their mouths were gagged.

  It was Maria and Lily.

  Chapter 99

  The King was inspecting ceremonial robes. An array of jewelled garments and shoes had been laid out before him. He tried not to think he might never get to wear them.

  ‘The Lord and Lady,’ Amesbury was saying. ‘We put it about they were fairies. Magical beings. If it is discovered that they survived Cromwell, people will say you were never legally crowned.’ He waved a thick hand. ‘In this climate,’ he said, ‘can you imagine the effect it would have? Londoners need only the slightest reason to march on Whitehall.’

  ‘The Crown Jewels were destroyed by Cromwell,’ said Charles, with certainty. ‘Burned in the Mint forge. Talk that the orb and sceptre survived is nothing but a story.’

  Amesbury looked at the King, wondering what he truly believed.

  ‘You must send troops,’ Amesbury said. ‘These riots have become something else. Remember the civil war? This was how it started.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Charles. ‘But there is nothing, Amesbury. There are no funds. My guards can barely be coaxed to remain at the palace.’

  ‘There was a reserve,’ said Amesbury. ‘The tax on coal.’

  The King shook his head, smiling slightly. ‘It’s gone. I gave it to her.’

  ‘The actress?’

  ‘No.’ The King frowned at the idea. ‘She wants nothing of that kind.’ His eyebrows lifted at this thought. ‘She isn’t like that. No titles. No gold.’

  ‘Then who?’ Amesbury was trying to think who else the King might be sleeping with.

  ‘My little Betsy,’ said Charles. ‘It’s signed in trust.’

  ‘She is not even your child! You give another man’s daughter an annual income for life?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Amesbury,’ said Charles. ‘None of that matters. Barbara and I . . . We loved each other. For a long time. She was loyal to me when I had no one. Now I repay her debt.’

  Amesbury was deep in calculation, mentally ransacking the empty treasury. ‘Parliament,’ he decided. ‘They might be called upon . . .’

  Charles lifted his hands. ‘It is over, Amesbury,’ he said. ‘Parliament won’t put down a cause they support.’ He patted the old general. ‘You’ll survive, you always do,’ he said. ‘As for me, I’m spending the last night in my palace in the arms of a woman I love.’

  ‘You’re going to Lady Castlemaine?’

  ‘To the actress,’ said Charles. ‘I collected her from her dressing room earlier,’ he added. ‘Gave her safe escort back to Whitehall. I think she understands,’ he added, his eyes far away. ‘I’m too tired for another fight. This is the end.’

  Chapter 100

  Inside the Golden Apple, the great doors were shuddering, splintering. The girls waited, hand in hand, as the thick wood smashed apart.

  Barebones appeared in the broken doorway, sword held high, face battle-ready. He walked forward into the theatre. Apprentices began pouring through behind him, Repent and Bolly leading the charge.

  On the small stage stood Mother Mitchell and her girls.

  ‘Look at this,’ whispered Repent, nudging Bolly and licking his lips. ‘Mother Mitchell’s kept the best ones for herself.’

  Bolly’s eyes were fixed on the pit. Huddled inside was a small body of men, holding swords and pistols.

  Barebones took them in. ‘You haven’t enough troops,’ he told Mother Mitchell, assessing the assembled men. ‘We will tear through them like butter.’

  ‘You haven’t counted the women,’ replied Mother Mitchell. ‘Do you think my girls will run from a pack of apprentices? They were raised in worse streets than your boys. Have you ever seen a slum girl in a fight?’

  Barebones regarded the girls on stage, arranged in their expensive dresses, hair curled and faces made, and shook his head in derision. ‘Repent,’ he said. ‘Time for you to put some whores in their place. The guard is mine.’ He eyed the armed men coolly, then raised his sword. ‘Charge!’

  Barebones ran at the guard, a bloodcurdling battle cry echoing around the theatre. The older apprentices fell in behind, makeshift weapons drawn.

  As the pit fight raged, Repent stepped sideways, towards the stage, his gaggle of scrawny boys moving with him. Beneath their lipstick and paint, the girls’ pretty faces hardened. Their dainty manners had vanished. They stood like hunters.

  Bolly made it onto the stage first. One of the girls stepped forward and kicked him so hard in the groin his skinny frame was lifted in the air. He staggered back, and she grabbed a handful of bagging shirt, dragging him to the floor. As he tried to stand a second girl moved in, kicking him mercilessly in the head.

  She turned to the approaching boys, a smudge of fresh blood on her shoe. ‘’Oo’s next, then?’ she screeched.

  More boys poured onto the stage, grabbing and punching. Repent watched as a girl in a pink dress landed on an apprentice’s back in a flying leap. The boy howled as she sank her teeth deep into his ear.

  Then Repent noticed a few whores who weren’t fighting like the rest. Five breathtakingly beautiful girls had taken flight, running towards the back of the theatre, silk dresses flying.

  Repent nudged the boy nearest to him. ‘Look a’ that,’ he breathed excitedly.

  The other boy stared.

  ‘Let’s get ’em,’ said Repent, ‘before the older ones
see ’em.’ He raised his voice, addressing his own ragged apprentices. ‘Come on, boys! This way!’

  Repent gave chase, beckoning the younger boys to follow. They poured behind him, following the fleeing girls towards the back of the theatre. Repent recognised one of the whores as they ran. It was the Italian girl who’d got away from him at Damaris Page’s house. He grinned, singling her out.

  Viola looked back over her shoulder, and to her horror saw the look on Repent’s pockmarked face. She and the other girls ran into an empty dressing room.

  Repent and his boys crowded into the doorway.

  ‘No way out.’ Repent smiled. ‘You boys guard the door,’ he decided, pointing to five of his troop. ‘You’ll have your turn.’

  He advanced into the dressing room, the rest of the apprentices behind him. The five girls were watching them warily, backing away.

  ‘The purple dress is mine,’ said Repent, making for Viola.

  The girls broke apart as the boys flew at them, scattering around the dressing room.

  Repent got hold of Viola’s long dark hair and pulled her to the ground. She floundered, trying to kick. He was on her before she could defend herself. Viola spat in his face and he grabbed her throat tightly, bearing his weight down on her. She felt her breath squeezed, fought for air.

  ‘See these?’ Repent grinned, waving his sword. ‘Tributes. Shall we see what colour you wear?’

  Viola noticed something familiar, dancing in the air. Clancy’s garter was tied to his stick.

  She couldn’t breathe and panic set in. Her vision was swimming. Repent had an expression of concentration. His hand was busy with something. His clothing.

  Black spots appeared. Clancy’s red ribbon garter blurred.

  Then suddenly the pressure lifted. Viola gulped in a breath. Repent made a strange strangled sound and his eyes shot wide open.