Fire Catcher

by C. S. Quinn

  Blackstone felt the familiar urge sweep through his body. His hands moved down.

  ‘It was no sin what we did,’ he whispered, unlacing her dress. ‘And I kept our children safe as I promised you.’

  At the mention of children, the woman’s face flashed. Had he imagined it? No. Blackstone was certain. Teresa was there. Listening.

  He took her hands and raised her to standing.

  ‘You must sit,’ he said. ‘In your favourite place. I will bring your dollies and your magical things.’

  He guided her to a corner and pushed her gently to the ground. The woman sat without protest. Her arm was growing cold, she noticed. Soon too much blood would be lost.

  Blackstone knelt and gathered an assortment of corn dollies and dead mice.

  ‘Here.’ He pushed them towards her. Mutely, the woman took the dolls. She tried not to show the horror she felt. Her eyes flicked to the cellar door.

  ‘I never told you,’ said Blackstone, ‘why we went to Holland. Why I forced you to make the marriage.’

  He swallowed.

  ‘The Sealed Knot swore to protect the King,’ he continued. ‘But after the war . . . Not everyone stayed loyal. Factions broke away.’

  Blackstone sighed.

  ‘I swear to you,’ he said, ‘when we journeyed to Holland my cause was true. We meant only to reinstate King Charles as the rightful heir.’

  He rubbed at his eyes and took a breath.

  ‘What we learned in Holland. It was too much temptation. I stole the Brotherhood’s sacred secret for my own.’

  Blackstone breathed out.

  ‘I thought . . . The idea of having everything back,’ he said. ‘Being reinstated to some fine estate. Then Sally Oakley stole away dreams of that kind.’

  He patted her hand.

  ‘Please, Teresa.’ Blackstone took her hand. ‘You must forgive me. I will take revenge on those who harmed you.’

  Sensing an opportunity, the woman deepened her voice.

  ‘I do not seek revenge,’ she intoned haltingly. ‘But you must do no more sin. I command it from my heavenly place,’ she improvised. ‘Free this poor woman.’

  Blackstone closed his eyes tight. ‘The marriage we made . . .’ His voice was tight.

  ‘A joyful time,’ replied the woman.

  Blackstone’s eyes flicked open. She saw at once the spell was broken.

  Chapter 45

  ‘Never seen anyone alight here,’ said the lighterman thoughtfully, ‘in all my years on the river. Heard things though, about Pickled Herring steps.’

  ‘It’s a fast way to her sister’s house on Bermondsey,’ said Charlie, helping Lily to the front of the lighter. The wooden ladder up to the jetty was caked in seaweed and slime. He was looking forward to helping her and gestured Lily should climb up first.

  ‘So you might look up my skirts?’ she said. ‘You go.’

  ‘I only thought the ladder looked slippery,’ said Charlie innocently.

  ‘You’ll be back directly?’ said the lighterman, as Charlie climbed slick rungs of the ladder. ‘If London Bridge burns there’ll be riptides. Bad ones. I won’t get the lighter through.’

  ‘We leave the bundle of fine plate,’ said Charlie, pointing. ‘So we must have your word you won’t turn thief.’

  As he stepped on to the mouldering pier a reek of warm damp rolled out from the space beyond. In the middle distance he could see a pin-prick glow of a lantern. The sign of the Shadow Market beyond.

  Charlie turned to help Lily on to the jetty, but she was already behind him. He put out a cautious foot, testing the soft wood beneath. His toes touched the edge of a splintered void.

  ‘There is a safe route over the old planks,’ he murmured, reaching for Lily’s hand. ‘I think I remember it.’

  ‘I don’t need leading,’ said Lily, pulling away her fingers so his hand settled on her wrist. But she let him guide her nevertheless as Charlie stepped carefully into the muted gloom, feeling out the repaired planks.

  ‘Tread only where I do,’ he warned, as the dark swallowed them entirely. ‘New wood is laid in a pattern. Two planks and then it shifts one left. One plank and back again.’

  ‘Is this to stop the customs men finding the market?’

  Charlie snorted. ‘Threats and bribes stop the customs men finding the Shadow Market. The rotted planks are down to lazy carpentry. This whole place will fall into the Thames in a few years.’

  They heard a shout of annoyance echo out from behind them.

  ‘The lighterman has checked your bundle,’ said Charlie. ‘And found flint rocks and broken barrel hoops.’

  ‘Will he come after us?’

  ‘He can’t leave his animal skins outside Pickled Herring steps,’ said Charlie. ‘Besides,’ he added, ‘his lighter was headed down river in any case. We’ve barely cost him an inconvenience.’

  They had reached the lantern now, and the dripping darkness expanded into the orange glow of an oil lamp. There was packed earth beneath them now.

  They turned past the lamp and found a rope ladder with a trapdoor at the top.

  ‘This is it,’ said Charlie, pointing up. ‘The Shadow Market.’

  Chapter 46

  As Charlie and Lily manoeuvred themselves through the trapdoor, a huge cavern opened up before them.

  ‘Welcome to the Shadow Market,’ said Charlie, gesturing to the commotion of goods and sellers. ‘If it’s shipped to London, you can buy it here.’

  The huge market was damp, cave-like and lit by yet more greasy-smoked oil lanterns. Lily’s eyes were moving over the chaos of commodities, packed every which way. Alongside each stack of goods was a seller, face shadowed, mouth mechanically shouting their wares.

  ‘I never knew so many fine things came to London,’ she said, uncharacteristically cowed by the mayhem before them. She was looking at a woman with a missing eye hawking rum. ‘That’s fine rum and brandy she sells.’

  ‘She won’t pour you a dram for a penny,’ said Charlie, looking where port, wine and brandy barrels of varying shape and size were stacked. ‘This isn’t Cheapside. You buy barrels and bales.’

  The cacophony of shouting sellers was made more bewildering by the haze of dark smoke which hung on the air. Black corners seemed to lead on forever, and dimly lighted tunnels spiralled out into hidden places. In one direction were bales of silk, bundles of lace and linens. Another had spices, tobacco and towering white sugar loaves.

  Charlie stepped forward, past a sack of spilled peppercorns which a seller was optimistically trying to scoop up from the damp ground.

  ‘Where does that lead?’ asked Lily. She was pointing to a rudimentary pulley arrangement operated by a counterweight. The hoist levered a tea chest upwards and out through a gap in the braced-wood ceiling. A scrawny donkey laden with coffee sacks loitered nearby.

  ‘Perhaps some smugglers wait above,’ guessed Charlie. ‘Waiting for their share to be hoisted to street level. No names no faces.’

  They watched as a stocky man loaded three sacks of coffee into the large tea chest. He wiped his brow then slapped the donkey’s hind-quarters. The animal brayed loudly, turned and bit him on the hand.

  ‘Do you know where this Oracle resides?’ asked Lily. ‘It’s a labyrinth down here.’

  Charlie nodded, surveying the sellers. His eyes lighted on some bales of colourful feathers. ‘This way,’ he said, leading her towards one of the many tunnels.

  They entered a wide earthen corridor filled with dried fish and preserved-fruit sellers. A few slim dug-outs at ground level held slumbering bodies. They passed by barrels of syrup figs and salt cod.

  ‘Here.’ Charlie stopped by a hanging line of butterflied herring. He smelled the air. ‘This way.’ He took Lily’s hand and ducked under it, bringing them through a tiny gap between two stalls.

  They emerged in a hidden corridor lined with wooden cages. Monkeys and parrots chattered. Mounds of tusks, shells and horns were ranged on all sides.

  ‘Al
chemy ingredients and rare animals,’ explained Charlie. ‘We come to the more expensive part of the market.’

  Lily eyed a bale of dried-out poppy heads.

  ‘Opium,’ said Charlie, remembering the fumes from Sebastian Longbody’s apothecary shop.

  ‘Nobles take it with wine,’ said Lily. ‘As a tincture.’

  ‘It’s stronger to smoke it,’ observed Charlie, noting the dried leaves. ‘Easier to smuggle too.’

  ‘Why so hidden?’ asked Lily, looking back to the bustling fruit sellers. ‘Doesn’t The Oracle like to be found?’

  ‘Dangerous men must be careful of strangers,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s the price you pay for infamy.’ They were passing more menacing looking traders now. Men with pirate and smuggler injuries, openly armed.

  ‘He lives deeper still,’ added Charlie, ‘in the part where the gem sellers trade. There’s no honour among thieves. They keep a close guard.’

  There was a low growling up ahead. Charlie and Lily broke out into a low corridor where a pack of snarling dogs were tethered.

  ‘They’re not well kept,’ said Lily as they approached where the animals guarded. Deep scars and missing lumps of fur marred the pack. A huddle of vicious-looking men in a patchwork of stolen armour ranged near the dogs. One lurched forward drunkenly.

  ‘Password,’ he said, sizing Charlie up.

  ‘No honour but bounty,’ replied Charlie, holding up a hand. The man fell back, eyeing them both suspiciously.

  They passed by the dogs and men uneasily, into the cavern beyond.

  ‘It’s difficult to see,’ whispered Lily as the gloom closed around them.

  ‘Your eyes adjust,’ said Charlie.

  They’d entered a cavern lined with wooden lock-up frontages. Each was lowered to reveal a merchant, fat taper candles and crates of uncut gems.

  ‘This way,’ said Charlie, pulling Lily back from the glinting stones. ‘The sign of the black cockatoo.’

  He pointed to a hanging bundle of red and orange striped feathers.

  ‘It’s a little affectation of his,’ added Charlie as Lily looked at the sign. ‘He was on a ship that voyaged from the New World.’

  ‘A smuggler’s ship?’

  ‘It wasn’t a voyage of exploration.’

  ‘It’s so dark,’ said Lily. ‘Where are the oil lamps?’

  ‘He doesn’t like them,’ said Charlie. ‘The Oracle’s been down here so long, strong light hurts his eyes.’

  They both came to a halt. Standing beneath the feathers was a huge man whose face seemed made entirely of scar tissue. He eyed them coldly as they approached. A strong smell of brandy emanated from his thick wool-clad body.

  ‘I have business inside,’ said Charlie as the man reached to tighten the strap on his wooden arm. ‘He knows me.’

  ‘You’ve made a meeting with The Oracle?’ asked the guard.

  ‘He knows me,’ repeated Charlie. ‘Tell him the thief taker is here.’

  Chapter 47

  The Royal Barge floated serenely on the Palace dock. Servants jogged up and down the gangplank. Lush rare flowers and swags of fabric bobbed as they made the final preparations to embark.

  ‘Firebreaks,’ said Amesbury. ‘We should send troops to make firebreaks.’

  Clarence looked horrified. ‘The people will fear an invasion. They will arm themselves and attack in the confusion.”

  The King rubbed his face thoughtfully.

  ‘Let’s board the barge then,’ he said. ‘See the city. Perhaps reports have been exaggerated.’

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Clarence made a low bow. ‘Lady Castlemaine has arranged the barge very prettily.’ He eyed her cunningly. ‘But if this is a military matter as Amesbury says, then surely the trip down river is no place for a lady?’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right, Clarence,’ said Charles. ‘Barbara. I should discuss this matter with the men.’

  Clarence couldn’t mask the victory flooding his features.

  ‘As you wish,’ said Barbara curtseying. ‘Though it means doing without my entertainment for you.’

  As she spoke a group of scantily clad women appeared on the muddy slope.

  They made their way down slipping, shrieking with delight and grabbing one another for support.

  Charles’s pensive expression lifted.

  ‘I’ve instructed some players to act the fire in the city,’ said Barbara. ‘Much more fun than having the dull men drone it out to you.’

  ‘How delightful,’ murmured Charles.

  ‘Perhaps,’ added Barbara, ‘I might say a few lines.’ She nodded to the barge. ‘There are costumes aboard.’

  Charles smiled broadly.

  ‘You lighten any occasion,’ he said, offering her his arm. ‘Even this bad business of fire.’

  They began to board the boat, Clarence’s face like thunder.

  ‘Don’t take it amiss,’ said Amesbury with a companionable pat on his shoulder. ‘She’s cleverer than both of us.’

  ‘She’s a snake,’ spat Clarence. ‘She hasn’t the cleverness of a man’s sort. It’s a low serpent’s cunning she has.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Amesbury. ‘And from what I hear she can swallow men whole.’

  Chapter 48

  The guard spat, and rubbed at his scarred face, causing a ripple of unintentional expressions. Then without a word, he disappeared back behind the wooden shop frontages.

  The bundle of cockatoo feathers turned slowly above them.

  After a moment the guard stepped back out and pulled roughly at Charlie’s coat.

  ‘No weapons,’ he grunted.

  Trying not to show his reluctance Charlie surrendered the knife from inside his coat.

  ‘How is he today?’ asked Charlie.

  The guard glowered. ‘Agitated,’ he said. ‘Full moon.’

  Charlie let out a breath. It hadn’t been the news he was hoping for.

  ‘It’s very important,’ he said to Lily, ‘that we keep things . . . calm in there.’ He pressed air down with his hands.

  She turned to him in surprise. ‘Calm?’

  ‘No raised voices. Excitement. Things could get nasty.’

  The guard turned to Lily.

  ‘You needn’t think I’ll let you maul me,’ she said looking at his calloused hands. ‘What do you imagine I carry inside my clothes?’ She flattened her dress around her waist.

  The guard considered this and then nodded for her to go forward. Charlie hid a smile.

  They stepped into a corridor banded on all sides by planks like a mineshaft. A close meaty smell suggested beef pottage was boiling up ahead. The scarred guard was following at a close distance behind.

  ‘What’s that?’ Lily whispered to Charlie, pointing to a collection of wires that ran alongside them.

  ‘No whispering,’ barked the guard. ‘He doesn’t like it.’

  ‘Alarms,’ said Charlie. ‘Signals. The Oracle never comes out. Too many people who want his head. The wires lead to bells all over the Shadow Market. He works them from within. Don’t touch them,’ added Charlie as Lily put out a curious hand. ‘Not unless you want a pack of smugglers to tear us limb from limb.’

  The corridor ended in a packed-earth room lit by a cauldron fire. The wall was etched all over in crazed symbols and numbers. In the glow of the flame it was like stepping inside a maniac’s brain.

  Squatted low over the dark contents of the cauldron was a pot-bellied man with a clumsily shaven face, wearing a mismatch of smuggled lace and silk. His mouldering leather skullcap was crested with cockatoo feathers. He was scribbling frantically on the wall with chalk.

  Beside him Charlie felt Lily tense.

  ‘High tide and high profit,’ the man was saying. ‘But does lace fall, Wilkes? With fire taking all?’

  The heat from the fire made the close quarters stifling. Charlie felt sweat break out on his face.

  ‘Lily,’ said Charlie, ‘meet The Oracle.’

  The man twitched and turned with surprising speed. Li
ly recoiled. Charlie held out a cautioning hand.

  The Oracle’s skin was so pallid that blue-green veins could be seen. Set against his mangy black skullcup and parched wine-stained lips he looked like a night-time creature recently emerged from his burrow.

  But it was the eyes that made him such a frightening man to look on.

  ‘Can he see?’ whispered Lily. The Oracle’s eyes were cloudy like a poached fish. Only the lightest pale blue swirled in their depths.

  ‘All too well,’ replied Charlie in measured tones.

  The Oracle turned to consider them both with a hungry expression. Charlie held a cautioning hand to Lily. Now at standing height The Oracle was small. But the effect he had on the guard was profound. The burly man was bowing low as though in the presence of an emperor.

  The Oracle’s blackened lips smiled, revealing grey teeth.

  ‘Charlie Tuesday!’ announced The Oracle. ‘The man with the memory.’ His voice had a husky creak to it. Like a dry corpse in a long-lost vault.

  ‘Mr Jenks is all manners today,’ he added, waving towards the bowing guard. ‘He upset Wilkes and we still don’t know if the full reckoning has been had. Might be more than a finger in payment.’ His eyes shifted to a large bandage on the guard’s hand and he smiled. ‘We shall have to see if Wilkes is feeling . . . merciful.’

  Lily balled her small fists and swallowed. ‘Who is Wilkes?’ she asked quietly.

  The Oracle gave her a vampire smile.

  ‘My other half,’ he said, tapping his head. ‘My better half at times.’ His voice rose suddenly. ‘When he doesn’t INTERFERE!’ The shout echoed around the small room. He smiled another serpent grin.

  The Oracle’s clouded eyes were roaming over Lily now. His face had shifted to something more calculating. He looked at Charlie. ‘And who might this be?’

  ‘Her name is Lily Boswell,’ said Charlie, unconsciously stepping a little in front of her. The Oracle noticed the gesture and his dark eyebrows raised. He gave a curious little shiver.

  ‘You mustn’t say such things, Wilkes,’ he whispered. ‘It is wicked. She’s only a girl.’