by Cate Cain
Ann’s little star chariot started to judder on its ropes and pulleys, and slowly she rose into the air, swinging perilously across the stage over the heads of Jem, Tolly and Gabriel. On her back she wore a long silver quiver, but instead of arrows, the quiver was packed with the rolled contract and the maps showing the places where the fires were to be set.
“Now, that’s more like it,” called out a courtier and there were more appreciative chuckles, whistles and bawdy comments as Ann travelled slowly out over the stage towards the king’s stand. As she passed over Jem’s head, he saw that she was clinging tightly to the star and her eyes were closed.
“Now, messengers,” Gabriel boomed again. “Name the traitors to His Majesty.”
Jem’s mouth went completely dry. He took a faltering step forward and looked into the crowd. He was struck dumb for a moment as he caught sight of the duke sitting just behind the king on the canopied stand. Next to the duke was a heavily veiled woman, and the Marquis of Kilheron and Lord Avebury were sitting just a little further along the row.
No doubt Aldermen Pinchbeck was here somewhere, too – all of them safe from the flames about to engulf the city.
This was it.
Jem cleared his throat and began. “By the most foul means…” His voice was cracked and hesitant.
“Speak up, lad, we can’t hear you,” someone called from the audience, while another shouted, “Never mind the whispering boy, look at the pretty player girl there. Up she goes!”
There was more laughter as Ann’s star chariot appeared to float out over the edge of the stage towards the canopied stand. Jem gulped as he saw the wires above him pull tight and heard the faintest squeak as the star winched its way towards the king. Moments later it bumped to the ground just in front of the royal stand. Ann curtsied deeply and bowed her head.
Tolly nudged him and whispered “Go on, Jem. Take a deep breath.”
Jem cleared his throat and began again, his voice stronger now.
“By the most foul means possible, using sorcery and forbidden powers, the following men have plotted to burn Your Majesty’s great capital to the ground today and to murder its citizens.”
Jem paused and looked at the crowd.
“George, Duke of Bellingdon. I name you traitor.”
Several people gasped. There were shuffles and nervous titters, and even King Charles himself looked surprised.
Jem spoke again. “Matthew, Marquis of Kilheron, I name you traitor.”
There was an even louder gasp. Then people began to boo.
“This is no entertainment, it is an insult to His Majesty!” someone shouted.
“Take them away and have them whipped,” yelled another.
Then Tolly stepped forward and began to speak in a firm clear voice. “John, Lord Avebury, I name you traitor. Edward Pinchbeck, Alderman of the City of London, I name you traitor.”
“Silence the moor!” screamed a woman. “This is an outrage!”
Jem continued, he was shouting now, so his voice still carried. “Sire, these traitors have plotted with Count Cazalon of Malfurneaux Place to raze London to the ground, murdering all inside its walls, and to replace the city with one of their own design.”
The crowd was buzzing with a menacing excitement. Some looked furious, staring at Jem with venomous expressions, others were thoroughly enjoying the scandal, gossiping frantically behind their fans.
Jem looked at the royal stand. The king was on his feet beckoning to a man in uniform and Jem saw soldiers rushing down the steps from the palace. They were heading for the stage.
Behind the king, the duke was now talking to Kilheron. The young marquis nodded so violently that his wig slipped and he had to catch it to hold it in place. The duke and Kilheron turned to stare coldly at Jem.
“Sire,” Tolly called out. “You must listen. I insist upon it!”
Instantly the crowd fell dangerously silent.
The king strode to the front of the stand. He stared furiously at Tolly.
“Must is not a word for kings, boy.” His voice was sharp and cold.
“Sire, I apologise for our manners,” Jem said as he dropped to his knees. He yanked hard at Tolly’s costume to indicate that he should kneel too. Jem’s heart was thumping so heavily that he thought his chest would burst as he continued. “We… we mean no treason. I… that is we…” he gestured at Tolly, Gabriel and Ann, “have discovered a plot against you, but we knew of no other way to warn you.”
There was a long silence.
Suddenly Charles began to laugh. “Ah, I see now. Why, this is excellent, Mr Jericho,” he said, beaming at the courtiers around him. “The most wonderful and entertaining trick. I congratulate you.”
People began to laugh nervously and some applauded. There were shouts of “Bravo!”
Gabriel bowed deeply, but when he spoke his voice was flat and deadly serious. “’Tis no jest, Your Majesty. I only wish it were. These lads speak nothing but the truth. And Ann here can show you.”
With her eyes lowered, Ann stepped out from the star. She curtsied and handed the silver quiver up to the king.
“This contains all the proof you need, Sire. The men my friends have named are traitors to you and to your people.”
Charles looked confused again.
Jem blurted out, “Our words are true, Sire. We are your loyal subjects and we are here to tell you that these men intend to burn London to the ground and build a city of their own design in its place.”
There was a moment of silence. Then a man shouted, “Who are these players to accuse their betters? Vagabond scum! Hang them all! They are the traitors.”
Jem felt his cheeks burn. He could feel Tolly trembling beside him, and even Gabriel looked defeated. It had all gone horribly wrong – how could he possibly have thought that the king would listen to them?
Charles raised his hand for quiet. The crowd was expectant. Then a high, clear voice rang out across the terrace.
“Your Majesty. I am proud to say that this boy is no traitor. He speaks the truth.”
Jem looked up and squinted into the blazing sun. Two finely dressed women were walking quickly towards the stage down a central pathway between the flower beds. One had chestnut hair that glowed in the golden afternoon light and one was very fair. The fair woman looked like… No! Jem stared in amazement.
This time it really was his mother.
“There – and not before time. I knew my Nelly wouldn’t let me down,” Gabriel said quietly.
“Remember me telling you about one of my young actresses who had done well for herself at court? Well, that would be Nelly here, and she’s our back-up plan.”
When the two women were level with the king they each sank into a deep curtsey.
The king stared at Sarah. Jem heard someone say, “Isn’t that Lord Verrer’s daughter? I thought she died years ago,” as another gasp rippled round the assembled court.
By now the king seemed completely bemused. “Sarah? My dear, where the devil have you been?”
He raised her to her feet and stared intently. “Still a beauty, I see. Is this some part of this odd entertainment?” He turned to the other woman.
“And Nell – you too? What is the meaning of this, have you taken to the stage again?”
The red-haired woman rose from her curtsey, her round dimpled face wearing a cheery grin, and said loudly. “I think you should listen to what this lady has to say Char… Your Majesty. Go on, Sarah, tell him.”
Jem’s mother blushed. “I– I believe the boy on stage to be speaking the truth, Your Majesty. He is my son, Jem – Jeremy – and he is almost thirteen years old.”
Sarah spoke the last words slowly and deliberately. A peculiar expression flashed across Charles’s face. He turned to look at Jem, and after a long pause he spoke loudly so that everyone could hear his words.
“And a fine boy he is, too. Come here, lad, and bring your friends.”
Jem, Tolly and Gabriel climbed down from the
stage and came to stand next to Ann. As they made another bow, Jem was aware of a small, black and white shape scampering across the dust to join them. The king’s little dogs, who had been loitering beneath the thrones dais, started to bark as Cleo leapt up onto Tolly’s shoulder.
Sarah spoke again. “Your Majesty, I do not entirely understand what is happening,” she said. “But I would not have come today if I did not know my son to be speaking the truth – and in terrible danger because of it. Mistress Gwynn here was sent by Mr Jericho to fetch me.”
Sarah bit her lip and smiled sadly down at Jem, continuing, “Sire, I know my Jem to be a good and honest boy. There is dark sorcery afoot and I can prove it to you.”
She looked back, her gaze now directed over the king’s shoulder. The Duke of Bellingdon was now trying to push his way through the crowd to the furthest steps, pulling the veiled woman roughly along behind him. The king turned to follow Sarah’s gaze and motioned to the guards with his hand.
Immediately, they blocked the duke’s path and also that of Avebury and Kilheron, who were trying to sneak down the steps on the opposite side of the platform.
Meanwhile, in the crowd milling around on the lower garden terraces, a space had formed around the puffing forms of Alderman Pinchbeck and his plump, overdressed wife and daughters. Courtiers were now staring at the four of them suspiciously.
Jem’s mother called out. “Mary, you must show them. Let them see what you have hidden from everyone except me.”
The veiled woman shrugged herself free from the duke’s grasp. Jem heard the duchess’s muffled cry from beneath the veil. “No! I cannot.”
She sounded wheezy, as if she found it difficult to breathe.
Sarah tried again. “Please, Mary, you must, for all our sakes.”
The duchess stopped dead, like a dark statue, then she turned slowly towards the king and began to speak.
“I– I too believe the boy speaks the truth, Your Majesty. There is evil abroad in London.”
“Silence, you stupid, foolish woman.” The Duke of Bellingdon was furious, but Charles raised a hand to stop him.
“Pray continue, my lady,” the king said.
The duchess took a step away from the duke and spoke again an odd raspy voice.
“My husband has been thick with Cazalon and the other men these boys have named for many months, although I do not know why.”
She paused for moment. “But I do know, sire, that I have been vain and foolish and that Count Cazalon is an evil, vicious man. He promised to make me beautiful again… but look at what he has done to me.”
The duchess raised her veil and turned slowly so that everyone present could see her face. There was a horrible silence that lasted just a moment, then a murmur of shock rippled through the crowd.
On one side, the duchess’s face and throat were completely black. Instead of skin, the woman was now covered in close-packed, lumpy serpent-like scales that glistened darkly. Her right eye was completely hidden beneath a hood of twitching black scabs that rose across her forehead and crept across half of her hairless scalp.
“Count Cazalon is a sorcerer and a devil,” she whispered.
Someone in the crowd began to scream and Mary crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
Bellingdon gasped and backed away from his wife while the king stared at her in pity.
“Call the physician. Take the duchess to him immediately,” he said, and two guards gathered her up and helped her from the garden.
The terraces fell silent. Jem felt a stab of sorrow for the duchess as the court watched her being escorted from the garden.
When the doors to the palace closed Ann looked up at the king, her voice quavering a little as she spoke. “Sire, in the quiver in your hand there, is written evidence of the plot – a contract signed in the traitors’ blood. It is the scroll with the red ribbon.”
Charles pulled the paper from the quiver and unfurled it. He scrutinised the names signed at the end and swore softly under his breath.
A harsh voice rang out. It was the duke.
“So, I have nurtured a nest of vipers in my own house. Trying to shield your bastard son are you, Sarah – the shameful secret you tried to hide from the world? I gave a place to the pair of you because of your friendship with my wife and this is how you repay me.”
Two guards now had Bellingdon in their grasp. The duke glared at Sarah and then at Jem.
“And as for you, boy, you are an ungrateful little thief as well as base born! How dare you steal my papers!”
“I am surprised to hear you speak so coarsely, George.” The king’s voice was slow and deadly. “But, at least you admit this document is yours?”
The duke blustered for a moment and then all the fight left him. He hung limply between the guards and his magnificent wig fell to the dust. Jem was amazed to see that he was completely bald.
Charles spoke again. “Arrest all of the traitors. Take them to the Tower and interrogate them.”
He turned to Jem, Tolly, Ann and Gabriel. “Now, you will all come with me and tell me everything you know. Starting from the beginning. You too, my ladies,” he added, looking at Sarah and Nell.
The king and the little party crossed the terraced garden towards the Palace. As they entered Whitehall, the king looked intently at Jem. He nodded, smiled and then turned to Sarah.
“So, madam. You must tell me all that has happened in the dozen or so years since we last met.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
By nightfall on September the first, the danger was over and London was safe.
Word came to the palace that four of the traitors were now safely imprisoned in the Tower of London, and, using the map Jem had taken from the duke’s secret drawer, the king’s troops had gone out into the city and arrested all the conspirators’ paid henchmen before they had a chance to even start the fires.
The afternoon and most of the evening had passed in a blur.
Charles had taken them all inside the palace, to an echoing council chamber. At first Jem had been tongue-tied and overawed, but the king and his ministers listened carefully as the boy falteringly explained everything he knew about the plot. Occasionally Ann and Tolly were asked about Cazalon and Malfurneaux Place, but Jem noticed his friends were always careful not to mention their powers. Taking their lead, he said nothing that might give them away. Sorcery – of any kind – was punishable by death.
The king’s eyes were often on Sarah as Jem spoke. Charles smiled warmly, and, Jem thought, a little sadly, when she nodded or spoke to confirm her son’s story.
“The black-hearted blaggards!” the king bellowed when Jem explained that the boxes delivered to Ludlow House contained models of the houses the conspirators planned to build for themselves.
“So, they thought they could burn my city and my people to satisfy their own vanity, eh?” The king brought his fist down hard on the gilded table top in front of him and the little dogs lolling underneath whimpered and darted out into the room.
“I’ll have their heads for target practice!” He roared.
Stars twinkled overhead as the children and Gabriel sat on the steps to the stage in the palace courtyard. Ann shivered despite the warm night air and pulled a red woollen shawl tight around her shoulders. They were all grateful to have changed out of their costumes.
“I know we should be celebrating, but I can’t help thinking that something is still wrong,” she said, looking down at Cleo. The monkey was curled in her lap.
Jem nodded. “It was almost too easy, wasn’t it? I still can’t believe it.”
“I know, but we all heard what they said about Malfurneax Place…” Tolly murmured, drawing absent-mindedly in the dust with a stick. “When they went to arrest Cazalon, all they found were the abbey ruins and a great smoking pit where the house should have been.”
Jem shuddered.
“Who knows?” Gabriel shrugged his shoulders and took a swig from a large bottle. “When Cazalon’s plan was revealed,
maybe the Devil rose up and spirited him away?”
“Perhaps,” whispered Ann, “But I can’t shake off the feeling that something is wrong.”
“All that matters now is that Jem’s plan worked like a dream – with a little help from good old Nelly.”
Gabriel chuckled and took another glug. “Good drop this. From the king’s own cellar.”
“Er… Mr Jericho, about Nelly and my mother. How did you… I mean, when did you—” Jem stopped short as Cleo suddenly stiffened and stared intently at the doors leading into the palace. Her tail swished.
The double doors swung back and a phalanx of soldiers carrying flaming torches clattered down the steps. There was a fanfare and seconds later the king appeared at the head of a glittering procession of ministers and courtiers, Jem’s mother among them.
As the royal party crossed the terrace, the children sprang to their feet. Ann sank into a low curtsey while Jem, Tolly and Jericho bowed.
“Up! Up!” ordered the king. He grinned as he caught sight of Jericho trying to hide the bottle behind his back. Jericho flushed and blustered.
“I– I was just celebrating, Sire.”
Charles laughed.
“As well you might, sir! It seems that you and your friends here have saved my city… so I have come to reward you all for your loyalty. And I will begin with the monkey. Cleo, isn’t it?”
The children nodded in unison.
“Bring her to me.”
Tolly shot Jem a look of surprised delight, took a step forward and looked intently at Cleo. She chattered and leapt up to his shoulder and the two of them approached the king. Tolly bent his head as Charles reached out to stroke Cleo. He grinned appreciatively and chuckled.
“She is a beauty – a fine little animal. Certainly the most loyal monkey in my kingdom. And in recognition of that fact, I present her with this favour.”
Charles snapped his fingers and a herald stepped forward with a velvet box. The king opened it and produced a golden medal on a thick red ribbon. He smiled at Tolly.
“Keep her still, lad, while I hang it round her neck. And then I have something for you. Something for all of you, in fact, I—”