by Cate Cain
Now Jem realised what these models were. They were buildings for the new London. They showed the city that Cazalon, Bellingdon and the other conspirators intended to construct when they had burned the old one to the ground.
“Patience,” replied the duke. “Before I reveal the bones of our city, there are matters to be settled.”
There was a thumping noise as if someone had slammed their fist on the table, then Alderman Pinchbeck spoke. “Well, I don’t know about you, my lords, but I’m not handing over a penny until I’ve seen what I’m buying.”
Heavy footsteps came towards the doors leading into the gallery. The handles turned and the locked doors shook. Jem sprang back.
“Come now, Your Grace, let the dog see the rabbit.” Alderman Pinchbeck bellowed.
The doors shook again.
Terrified, Jem looked about for a hiding place. As he was desperately scanning the room he heard the duke’s voice. “Very well, Alderman. I understand your concern, but I assure you that you will not be disappointed.”
Jem fled to the far end of the gallery, intending to crouch behind the huge model on the raised platform. But as he slipped into the space behind the furthest points of the star he noticed a small gap in the wood. The model was so large that it had been assembled from different sections and each point was separate. Jem pushed gently on one of the column-lined sides and the gap widened enough to allow him to squeeze inside.
He shifted forward into the hollow at the centre of the model until he was standing, slightly stooped, just beneath the dark glass dome. The air inside was thick with the smell of varnish and tiny flecks of sawdust settled on his head and shoulders.
It was not a moment too soon. The double doors were thrown back and the duke’s party entered the room. Although the glass was completely black from the outside looking in, Jem’s view through the dome was clear as day. Through the glass, he saw Alderman Pinchbeck’s corpulent body first, followed by Lord Avebury, Kilheron and finally the Duke of Bellingdon himself.
Today Bellingdon was dressed more magnificently than ever before. His golden wig tumbled over a red embroidered frock coat, a ruffle of bright white lace foamed at his neck and his pointed shoes were tied with loops of crimson ribbon. Jem was reminded of a cockerel.
For a moment there was an awed silence. Then all the visitors broke into spontaneous applause.
“Bravo!” shouted Kilheron. “They are magnificent. Which is mine?”
The duke took Kilheron’s arm and led him over to a model of a fine mansion with long windows and a sweeping double stairway leading to a central door.
“Marvellous. It fair takes my breath away,” said the marquis, stroking the wooden roof.
There was a coughing noise and the duke turned to Pinchbeck, who was scanning the room greedily. “Alderman, your house is over there.”
The duke pointed at a particularly grand model that was as tall as it was broad. “And this is the great archway that will lead to Pinchbeck Park,” he continued, walking over to a highly decorated archway, designed, no doubt, to straddle a road. “The Pinchbeck Triumph will stand more than seventy feet high,” the duke added.
Through the glass, Jem could see the Alderman’s beady eyes widen in surprise and pleasure. Pinchbeck rubbed his hands together.
“Well, that looks most satisfactory. Most satisfactory indeed,” he said.
The duke continued his tour of the models and soon he was standing just a few feet away from Jem’s hiding place. “And this is Cazalon’s new cathedral, gentlemen. What do you make of it?”
Cazalon’s cathedral? Of course! Jem realised with a start what his hiding place was.
Lord Avebury stalked towards the model. Jem was sure that he could not be seen through the glass, but he ducked lower, just in case. His breathing became fast and shallow and his heart began to thump so loudly that he was certain the men gathering around the model could hear it.
Avebury’s eyes narrowed as he took in the odd shape, the columns, the steps and the dome. At last he spoke.
“It is an abomination!”
The duke sidled up to him. “But do you not think it is interesting, Avebury? A building like this will be the talk of every capital in Europe. Cazalon has employed the finest architects on our behalf. That is why he has been in Paris these last weeks. He has commissioned these models to show us the new London. They are mere shadows of the real city we will build. And this magnificent construction will be our new cathedral.”
Avebury’s flat, slablike face was grim. “It is ungodly,” he replied. “I knew the man was fascinated by the pagan temples of the past, but I did not think he would make one for himself. Cazalon once told me that he believes St Paul’s to have been built over a Roman temple. And now I see he means to build that ancient heathen monstrosity anew.”
The room was silent as the other men watched this exchange.
After a moment, Bellingdon clasped Avebury’s right arm. “We are all engaged in the work of the Lord, Richard,” he said. “When we cleanse the city with flames we will serve the righteous and sweep the sinful away with the ashes. This is holy work.”
“And work that will delight and glorify our king,” interrupted Kilheron. “Remember, Avebury, we will surely be rewarded on earth as well as in heaven.”
The duke continued softly, “Why not allow Cazalon this folly, this artistic extravagance, when he has asked for so little? Even now he is in France raising the monies for our scheme, so that when London burns we will be ready. He has been tireless in his quest to help us build our great new capital – and this,” the duke tapped the model, “is all he asks in return.”
Avebury grunted. “And that’s another thing that worries me, George. Why would a Frenchman want to help us?”
Bellingdon laughed uneasily. “French, you say? No, that’s not right. Cazalon has spent a great deal of time in France, true, but he has estates and ancient titles here in England – and land in the Indies and the Americas, too. He is a man of the world, Richard. One of a new breed – and we are fortunate to be his friends. Now, come and look at your house over here. It has a fountain.”
Bellingdon placed an arm around Avebury’s shoulders and guided him over to one of the most imposing models in the room. The duke pointed out its various features and after a short while, Avebury seemed almost happy.
Kilheron and Pinchbeck stayed close to the model where Jem was hiding.
“And what do you think of it, Alderman?” asked Kilheron quietly.
Pinchbeck puffed out his cheeks. “Avebury is right, it is an abomination. But that’s a small price to pay when there’s money to be made.”
“And titles to be bought?” There was note of scorn in Kilheron’s voice, but the Alderman had turned away and was already lumbering back up the room towards the duke and Avebury.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting this then?” Pinchbeck called to Bellingdon and produced a leather pouch from the folds of his coat. “All in gold, as requested.”
The duke smiled as all his visitors produced similar fat pouches that chinked with coins. “I believe you will find that your investment today pays rich dividends,” he said. “When old London is burned to a crisp, the king will be grateful and generous to those who are ready to help him.”
His words were met by nods and grunts of approval.
Inside the model, Jem shuddered. These greedy conspirators thought only of themselves, they didn’t care at all about the thousands of people in the city.
Would his own father be burned to a crisp before Jem had even found him?
“Now, to the plan,” said the duke, and he collected several rolls of paper from a desk. “Do you all have enough men to set the fires?” he asked, handing a roll to each conspirator.
Kilheron sniggered. “It was easy to find the right fellows for the task. London is full of ruffians and cutpurses. Poor rogues will do anything for ready coin.”
Pinchbeck didn’t sound so happy. “I’ve done as you asked, but
to my mind this is all getting very expensive. I like to strike a deal as much as the next merchant, but so much outlay without immediate return – well, that’s a risk. And maybe a poor one?”
The duke’s reply was cold and formal. “You speak like a mere Alderman, sir. You’ll find it’s been a small price to pay when you and future generations of Pinchbecks add a title to their name. We must all make sacrifices – I am prepared for my own house to burn.”
Jem froze. What about his mother and little Sim, and all the other inhabitants of Ludlow House? He’d never imagined that the duke meant to harm his own property and his own people. These men were discussing the destruction of everything he knew as easily as if they were bartering for a pig.
“Now, gentlemen,” the duke spoke again. “If you would unroll the papers I have just given you and place them together on the floor here, we shall discuss the instructions I have received from our friend in Paris.”
The men unfurled the rolls and placed them on the rug. The duke pushed the papers together so that they formed one large sheet, then stood back. “My dear fellow!” Kilheron exclaimed, “A plan of the whole city! And we each seem to have a different section.”
“Good, Matthew – you are quite right.” The duke looked down. “The count has split the City of London into four equal parts. Each of us is to be responsible for a quarter. The ruffians we have employed will set fires at each point throughout the city marked with a red cross, so – here, here, here and… here.”
The duke pointed at the map and the conspirators bent closer.
“I shall take the north,” Bellingdon continued, “Avebury, you will take the south, Alderman Pinchbeck the east, and Kilheron, you have the west.”
Avebury looked up. “And what’s that star at the centre?”
The duke chuckled, but it was a nervous sound. “That, dear friend, is Count Cazalon’s concern. He has stipulated that he and he alone is to be responsible for the streets around St Paul’s Cathedral. You will find those places clearly marked on your own maps. That is Cazalon’s territory. Are we agreed?”
The men were quiet for a moment, then Pinchbeck muttered, “Well, if that’s what he wants. Though, I must say, it all seems very odd.”
The duke was sharp. “However strange you think it, Alderman, you will find that Cazalon has been most careful in devising this scheme. Your men are to be ready on the first day of September. Fires are to be lit at midnight across the city in these places.”
He pointed at the maps on the carpet. “I have a copy kept somewhere safe so that I can coordinate the plan. But from here on in, it is up to you, and your men, to make sure that everything – every house, every tavern, every merchant’s shop – is destroyed. They are to be burned from the face of the earth. Now, take up your maps gentlemen.”
Inside the model, Jem rubbed his eyes as a speck of sawdust settled on his lashes. The first of September was just days away! How could they possibly be stopped in time?
Kilheron piped up. “Why, that is an excellent date, George. How clever to choose the first day of September! We shall all be safe at court with our families and far from the old city, enjoying the king’s end-of-summer revels. It is most ingenious.”
The duke smiled. “I believe the count chose the date specifically for the convenience of his friends. If you have… concerns in the city, you have a week to make the relevant arrangements, which should be sufficient. And if our henchmen do all that we pay them for, we will not only be safe from the flames but safe from suspicion.”
“But what about me and my girls?” said Pinchbeck. “What am I supposed to do, eh? My house and my main business are all within the city walls and people like us don’t have an invitation to court.”
The duke sighed and pretended to look out of a window. “I am sure that I can find a place at the king’s revels for a wealthy man like you, Alderman. Doors can always be opened – for the right price.”
Pinchbeck was silent for a moment, then he grumbled. “This is all getting very pricey. The wife and girls will be wanting new dresses for court and it’ll cost a pretty penny to ship our goods out of the city at such short notice. I trust this will be worth it, My Lord?”
The duke smiled broadly. “Oh I think you’ll be very satisfied, Alderman. Indeed, I trust that we will all be most satisfied.”
He walked over to a particularly elegant model that looked more like a palace than a house. “Gentlemen, this will be my home at the heart of the new London. I always wanted a fine house on the banks of the river. When our fire has cleared the diseased scum and the deadwood from those narrow passages down by the Thames, I shall build this house on that very spot. It will be my… reward.”
His eyes gleamed as he turned to look at them again. “There is one last thing. You all know that our friend in France can be a little… how can I put this? Eccentric?”
The men chuckled in agreement.
“Count Cazalon has asked that we should sign our names to this contract.”
The duke produced a smaller roll of paper from his coat and untied the red ribbon that bound it. The paper unfurled, and Jem could see that it had a large wax seal hanging from ribbon at the bottom.
“It is a formality, nothing more,” Bellingdon continued in a bored voice. “This document merely records our interests as partners of the company that will own the new London.”
The duke paused for a moment and then added, “Count Cazalon was most specific on this point. He returns to London this week and when he returns he expects to collect the completed contract from me – a contract we have signed in our blood.”
The men shuffled uneasily. Avebury gave a great snort.
“That smacks of devilry. I’ll not do it.”
Bellingdon gave him a narrow look. “The choice is yours, Edward. You either sign or leave us. But if you choose to leave, I believe things will go very badly for you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It is a statement of fact,” the duke replied, fingering the hilt of his sword. “Come, Edward,” he said evenly. “We have all walked a long way down this road now. Is a drop of blood too much to ask?”
Avebury snorted again and then gave a curt nod. “Very well. It seems I have no choice.”
The duke produced a small knife and pricked his own thumb. He signed the document with a quill from the desk dipped in a bright drop of his blood. Avebury went next.
Just as the last of them, Kilheron, was scribbling his name on the contract, Jem sneezed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The men froze. Bellingdon’s hand gripped the contract so hard that the paper crackled as he turned to scan the room.
Terrified that he was about to sneeze again, Jem gripped his nose between thumb and forefinger and bent lower in the model. His legs were trembling and he felt as if he might be sick.
It was the sawdust. Inside the hollow, echoing model, the sneeze had seemed incredibly loud. Jem was certain that his hiding place was about to be discovered. Now, every beat of his heart sounded like the tolling of a bell.
In the gallery the men were silent, until Kilheron piped up in a nervous half whisper. “What was that, George?”
Bellingdon’s voice was tight with fury. “This room was sealed on my order. I promise you, gentlemen, no one has been in here except me.”
“Well, I certainly heard something,” said Pinchbeck.
“And I too,” said Avebury, adding, “it came from down there.” He pointed at the far end of the gallery where Jem crouched in the model cathedral.
“Then let us investigate,” said the duke, drawing his sword and advancing slowly.
The others followed, throwing back their coats to reveal the light swords hanging at their sides.
The men circled the models in the gallery on the right and left flank. As they neared the wooden cathedral, Jem dipped to the floor and tried to fold himself into the smallest shape possible so that he could squeeze into the furthest arm of the star.
He
could hear the footsteps coming closer and closer and he could hear the metallic scrape of the men’s swords on the walls as they flicked at curtains and hangings.
Heavy boots sounded on the floor right next to his hiding place.
“I think there’s something over here, George,” a voice hissed.
Every nerve in Jem’s body coiled tight as a hangman’s noose. Suddenly there was a tearing noise as a tapestry was ripped aside, followed by a huge roar of surprise.
“God’s teeth man, it’s huge! A monster!” said Avebury.
Jem heard the sound of something scratching and skittering on the wooden floor, followed by the sound of running and thumping. The footsteps moved further up the gallery.
“Hit it, George! Use the hilt of your sword,” shrieked Kilheron. “It’s making for the chimney. Quick, man. Now!”
Jem heard a heavy blow and single high-pitched screech. There was a moment of silence and then the sound of more footsteps.
Pinchbeck spoke. “Well, I’ve seen some rats in my time, but never a beggar that big. Not even in the grain holds of me ships.”
“It’s the heat,” replied Avebury. “They are living well off the middens this summer.”
“Be that as it may, gentleman,” the duke interrupted, “but in any case, I believe we have found our spy.”
There was a general murmur of agreement before Bellingdon continued, “Come. We shall cement the contract we have signed today with a toast and then we shall dine.”
Jem heard the sound of stamping feet as the men marked their approval, then the gradually quietening sound of retreating footsteps.
Inching from his hiding space, he stood up again and peered through the glass. Midway down the gallery, the duke was ushering his guests back into the antechamber where the banquet was set.
As the last man left the gallery, the duke walked over to a cabinet set against the wall. Jem watched as he bent low to feel for something on the far side of the black lacquered doors. A narrow tray shot out from the base between the clawlike feet and the duke placed the contract carefully into this secret compartment, before pushing it back into place. As he straightened up he turned and stared hard at the model cathedral before shrugging his shoulders and following his guests.