The 48

by Donna Hosie

  “What have you seen?” cried the monster once more.

  “They are…they are sorcerers.”

  “Tell me. What have you seen?” My hood fell from my head as the Devil twisted his grip into my hair.

  “Alexander of Cleves…he disappeared. Before the painting by Master Holbein!” I cried.

  The Devil let go. Fear had sapped the last drop of courage I had. I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. My chest pained with the effort. I could not breathe. I was too frightened to try.

  * * *

  —

  How long I stayed there, I do not know, for when the Lieutenant found me, I was alone.

  * * *

  —

  The Devil’s voice stayed with me, though. Haunting my waking moments and the snatched occasions of fitful slumber.

  And in the morn, with my gut and shoulder aching where he’d struck me, I recalled where and when I had heard that strange intonation before.

  It was during a most desperate conversation between the brothers of Cleves.

  The night I found Charles of Cleves close to death, foaming at the mouth like a poisoned, possessed dog.

  I sat in front of Alice, who had dressed in men’s clothes, stolen from one of the many bedrooms in Cromwell’s house. Even with a cap pulled down over her eyebrows, there was no way anyone looking closely was going to believe she was a boy, but from a distance we might just get away with the subterfuge.

  I knew Charlie was allowing the fate of the queen to preoccupy him on the sunset ride back to Greenwich.

  I could have used the quiet to recite the Tenets. Calm my nerves. But I could no longer remember a single one.

  It was perversely freeing.

  * * *

  —

  It was only once we arrived back and stabled the horses that I realized just how bad things were. A groom informed Charlie that Cromwell had decided Mark Smeaton’s written confession wasn’t enough to convict Anne, and had arrested courtiers Henry Norris, Francis Weston, William Brereton, Thomas Wyatt, and Richard Page—who, along with Weston and Brereton, was a knight—and George Boleyn, too.

  Every name on the list that Cromwell had shown him—with the exception of his own.

  “You can’t go into the palace, Charlie,” I said, groaning. My injured leg that had been cauterized was giving me a world of pain. “They might be looking for you. You’ll be arrested on the spot. You have to hide now.”

  “We have to hide you,” he replied. “I wouldn’t put anything past Cromwell now. He’d have you in the Tower on the pretense of being me by midnight. But I have to risk it. We need to find Grinch and then find that painting. Then we hide.”

  “There’s no need to look anymore.”

  Alice had already ducked out of view with such speed that I was left wondering if she had gotten off the horse at all, as the figure of a tall groomsman stepped from the shadows.

  “Grinch,” I gasped. I stumbled over a hay bale as I stepped back. Even the horses were whinnying at the appearance of the Deputy Director of The 48. She looked strange. Larger and unnatural. She was wearing men’s clothes.

  “I expected so much of you two,” said Grinch. “Yet how little it took to throw you off track. Charles, what is wrong with you? I instructed you to carry out a very simple assassination when we last spoke. You are not as special as I thought, or hoped.”

  Charlie had told me of Grinch’s injury, but the sound of her voice still shocked me into stillness. Charlie already had a knife in his hand, however. His eyes were flicking up and down Grinch’s body. Through the eyes or in the neck? Which would be the easiest kill? That was what he was now thinking. Grinch was no longer an Asset in our minds, she was a target.

  “Why are you here, Grinch?” he asked calmly. “These stables are never left unmanned. A groomsman will see you threatening men of the court and your head will be on the block before you can say another word.”

  Grinch made a noise of contempt. Her boots had a stacked heel, which aided the impression of height. Charlie and I were six feet tall, but she wasn’t far off us. But there was something else about Grinch. More than the sickly green tinge to her skin. It was her eyes. Normally hazel, they were now almost as black as Anne’s. But while the queen’s eyes were mesmerizing, Grinch’s made her look reptilian. She pulled out a long, thin piece of metal, like a tapered screwdriver. Even though the sun was almost gone, I could still make out the blood dripping from the pointed end.

  “There was a groomsman here—and he isn’t listening now,” said Grinch.

  “What do you want from us?” I asked, trying to buy Charlie some time to formulate a plan to get us the hell out of here. Alice was still completely hidden in the shadows.

  “I am demanding your complete, unwavering loyalty.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Self-preservation and the assignment are all that matter,” I said.

  Grinch smiled grimly. “And that’s only the small picture.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see, Alexander, before I slit his throat, Aramis had been helping Piermont recruit Assets for a splinter group from The 48. A faction dedicated to profit and warmongering, rather than to the betterment of history. I knew Aramis was going to recruit you both, but I thought your seventeen years of training would have conditioned you to do what I said. I forced Alice Tanner back to this time to protect her from the treacherous words of Aramis; I believed you would both be a loyal and true influence on her, but clearly I was wrong. So it’s time to get as dirty as the traitors. And if that means you die—then that’s what will happen. Religion must be eradicated once and for all. That is the instruction from TOD, and I will see that it is done. But this assignment will succeed, with or without you, now.”

  Grinch’s words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “What do you mean?” I demanded. “What the hell are you saying?”

  “Aramis and Piermont were breaking away from The 48,” replied Grinch slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. “They saw religion as a military objective. They didn’t want it eradicated, they wanted it radicalized. Piermont was leading the recruitment of several other traitors, and Aramis had a number of trainees marked down as recruits—including you and Alexander. Alice Tanner was another one. She had quite the aptitude for subtle insubordination back at The 48, which appealed to them. As I said, I believed, with the correct influence, she could be kept in line. You too.”

  Alice was slowly inching around the back of the stalls, unseen by Grinch. I knew that her best chance of getting away was for me and Alex to keep Grinch distracted.

  “Piermont and Aramis didn’t count on anyone discovering their deviance as I did,” continued Grinch. “But after my partner was murdered, I developed tunnel vision. I cared for nothing but the well-being of The 48, and I knew deviations when I spotted them—no matter how well disguised.”

  “Murdered?” said Alex, his voice far higher than usual. “Assets don’t talk about murder. That’s criminal. Assassination is the word we’ve always been told to use for ending a life. Or termination.”

  Alex’s breathing had hitched up to a whole new level. He was already in so much physical pain, I could only imagine what being near an elder of The 48 was doing to his psychological well-being. Alex was nowhere near full fitness. If it was fight or flight, Alex wouldn’t have a chance at either.

  Grinch snorted again.

  “I don’t mean my Asset partner for any given assignment. I mean my life partner. He wasn’t an Asset. I fell in love with an Outsider who lived near the institute. I was lucky that Director Asix thought highly of me, or I would have been disposed of when he found out. It is that ability to sense weakness in others that has kept The 48 thriving. And I learned from my mistake. The rules were then tightened to ensure that Outsiders and Assets did not have cause to meet around the institute.”

  The fact that Grinch had on
ce fallen in love with an Outsider came as a shock. If her partner had been murdered, it went a long way toward explaining her control of her emotions now.

  “Who murdered him?” I asked. “Who killed the Outsider?”

  “Take a guess,” replied Grinch. She held up the bloody thin blade and twisted it from side to side, as if admiring the slick new coating. “But I have to give Piermont credit where credit is due. Even as a trainee, he could put more experienced Assets to shame with the clinical way he disposed of a target.”

  A movement between the far stables caught my eye; Alice was almost there.

  “You didn’t need to come back here, Grinch. You should have had more faith in us. Alex and I know we have to complete the assignment,” I lied. “And we will. We will assassinate Jane Seymour to ensure the continuation of the Protestant faith for the time being—and then we’ll return to The 48 to continue the Religion Eradication program. We aren’t on Piermont’s side. Nobody has ever tried to recruit us to anything outside of The 48. This infighting has nothing to do with us.”

  “You need to listen very carefully, Charles,” replied Grinch, taking several steps toward us. “Piermont intends to be a power ruler. He needs you to fail this assignment. Piermont wants religion to endure because throughout history, it has been a root of war, right alongside territory and natural resources and personal ambition and the desire to conquer. He wants those roots to thrive too. Do you have any idea how much money there is in war, Charles? And Piermont is hungry for the power. For the mental challenge of pitting people against one another through time. So again, he wants you to fail. Aramis wanted to recruit you, but Piermont did not. And make no mistake, Piermont will find you.”

  “Was Piermont responsible for the attack on Alex?” I asked, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists at the thought of the damage done to my brother.

  “No,” replied Grinch. “That was Aramis.”

  “I knew it!” exclaimed my brother.

  “Aramis and two traitor Assets who had already been recruited attacked you to distract you both from the assignment, but he watched over it to ensure you were not killed. It was Piermont who left the bloody calling card on your bed.”

  “What about poisoning me?” I asked. “Aramis or Piermont?”

  “That was Piermont too,” said Grinch. “But he is a wanted man in this time and had to be quick, which meant he was sloppy. I have no doubt he is lying low somewhere. Aramis has been lying to you both from day one, but he allowed you to be saved from the poisoning because he wanted the Douglas twins to join the new faction. Aramis had a twin too—once. He was rather sentimental in the end—and a fool.”

  “They found out you knew what they were doing, didn’t they?” I asked. “Which one tried to slit your throat?”

  “Neither,” replied Grinch. “That was Willem. He was recruited, albeit under duress apparently, and told to kill me. He failed. I did not.”

  I thought back to Paris and what we had witnessed from the hotel room. Did that mean Katie was now under Piermont’s own brand of leadership now? Was she even alive? The possible truth of either was too awful to comprehend.

  “You killed Willem?”

  “I will kill every traitor if I have to.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Charlie, shut up,” hissed Alex.

  “Charlie’s right—you are insane.”

  Grinch looked confused for a split second. Then a spade made contact with her head with a metallic thud that made my ears ring. I don’t think Grinch even saw it coming. She slumped to the ground. A small cut just above her right eyebrow was bleeding slightly, and her eyes were open. Had Alice killed her? I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t about to attempt resuscitation.

  “Run!” cried Alice. She was still gripping the spade like a baseball player about to swing at a pitch.

  We didn’t need to be told twice.

  * * *

  —

  Alice and I made it out of the stables, but by the time we reached the first of the many fruit orchards, Alex was lagging behind. I stopped and ran back to him, but he urged me on.

  “Leave me,” he commanded.

  “Never again,” I replied. “Get on my back.”

  “You can’t carry me,” said Alex, limping badly with one hand on his injured leg.

  “Get on my back,” I repeated, bending over.

  “I’m a hundred and fifty pounds, Charlie.”

  “Correction, you were,” I replied, grabbing his arm. Alex acquiesced and slipped his arms around my neck. The exhalation of relief pushed into my back. I tucked my arms under his knees and carried him piggyback through the orchard. It was dark, but the lights were blazing in every window of the palace, lighting the way.

  “Where are we going?” I called. “We can’t go back to my lodgings in case Cromwell and his men are waiting to arrest me. And I’m not convinced Grinch is dead, and she’ll know where the lodgings are.”

  “Shhh,” hissed Alice. She had stopped running and was crouching down by the thick trunk of a plum tree. I came to a halt next to her. Alex slipped from my back and held on to the trunk.

  I mulled over everything Grinch had said as I watched a changing of the yeomen guard by a large set of double doors. But remarkably, it wasn’t my own destiny that was troubling me. It was the fate of Mark, Anne, and Jane that weighed most heavily on my mind. Maybe it was the darkness amplifying the noises in my head, but I could hear Mark screaming, Anne crying, and Jane…

  Jane was laughing.

  I shook my head. After everything Grinch had just told us, I needed to try one last time. “Okay,” I said urgently. “We need the painting of Cromwell, and then a place to hide. Then you two can stay out of sight and I’ll try one last time to get Jane away.”

  “I suppose there is no point in arguing with you, is there?” asked Alex.

  “Stubborn idiot,” said Alice.

  “You can call me all the names under the sun when we’re away,” I replied. “But at this point, I want Piermont’s grand plan to fail just as much as I want to save Jane.”

  The three of us sprinted across the gravel. I slipped and stumbled in the three-inch-thick covering of stones.

  We reached the doors. My eyes were so accustomed to the darkness that they immediately watered from the blaze of light that greeted us.

  “Down this way,” said Alice. “I know a back route to the kitchens.”

  She led us down stone staircases and up again. I could hear the noise of clanging pots and smell the wood burning before we reached the main arched entrance to the kitchens.

  “They’ll be cooking for dinner,” said Alice. “In here.”

  The three of us bundled into a small antechamber. It was freezing cold and was filled with dead birds hanging by their feet from the ceiling on one side, and cuts of meat tied with string on the other side. A lone torch at the far end illuminated the storeroom.

  Alex turned over a wooden bucket and sat on it. His eyes and nose were running.

  “Now I know why Assets are decommissioned at age forty-eight,” he groaned, wiping his face. “Can you imagine having to do this when you’re old? And what your blood pressure would be like, knowing time is running out?” He looked at his wrist pointedly. I noticed it was shaking, and I looked at him questioningly.

  “Withdrawal. And you have no idea the willpower it is taking for me not to overturn this bucket and use it as a toilet.”

  “Listen,” said Alice urgently. “We divide up our plan. I can find Marlon and ask him to hide us. Charlie, you can go and get Cromwell’s painting, get it back to us, and then do whatever you’re going to do to save Jane. Alex, you’ll need to stay here, hidden until Marlon can get you out.”

  “What about Piermont?” asked Alex.

  “We know he’s here—but he isn’t going to show his face around a court that trea
ts him as a wanted man,” said Alice. “Grinch can get away with that because she’s known from previous assignments, but the one thing Piermont needs right now is to lie low. That means if we stay in the palace, we’re unlikely to run into him. It’s worked so far.”

  “Hidden in plain sight?” said Alex. “What do you think, Charlie?”

  “I think this will work,” I replied.

  “Do you think Grinch survived being a piñata?” asked Alex.

  “She survived,” said Alice. “I’m strong, but that spade rebounded through my shoulders like I was absorbing the whack.”

  “Charlie,” said Alex quietly. “What if you can’t persuade Jane to leave? We will have to leave her—and she will die.”

  “I won’t fail,” I replied. “We have a plan. Let’s make it work.”

  * * *

  —

  I ran out of the cold storeroom. The route to Cromwell’s lodgings was clear. Any member of the court with common sense was sticking to their rooms at this point.

  I kept going over the timeline that I was trying to write.

  If Jane turned down Henry and ran from him, her life here would be over if they ever caught her. If she did marry him, she would die in childbirth.

  What would saving her really mean, then? Could I take her back to the twenty-first century with me? Could she hold on to me and travel into the future? It was an idea that I was mulling over in my mind because of Alice. Her countdown was behind ours—and we were planning to take her back with us. If Alex held on to Alice, I could hold on to Jane.

  * * *

  —

  I was so preoccupied with that thought that I didn’t hear the ragged breathing in the room until it was too late. I hadn’t even reached the large wooden desk with all of Cromwell’s papers. One paper in particular, a list of names, was the one I wanted, as well as the painting.