by Robin Jarvis
“I wish I was back in Malmes-Wutton,” Adam sighed.
“Well I’m not going back there till I’ve seen something of this island,” Henry insisted. Leaping up, he kicked the stool into a corner and strode to the doorway.
“Where are you going?” Adam asked.
“Exploring,” came the determined reply. “You stay here if you want to, Coggy, but I’ll not. There’s a city out there and I want to see it.”
Into the corridor Master Wattle went marching and, giving a dejected glance about the cheerless room, Adam o’the Cogs immediately decided to go with him.
That region of the palace was shockingly run down and neglected. It was a long straggle of shabby, red-bricked buildings connected by a narrow passage. These mean apartments housed the lowest servants and, since the Uplifting of the lands, the rooms had grown ever more dilapidated – even dangerous. Ceilings had fallen in, there were holes in the roof and weeds grew up through the flagged floors.
“My rats wouldn’t loiter in this muck heap,” Henry said with disgust.
Leaving that slovenly den, the apprentices stepped out into the night, crossing a drab courtyard beyond which the irregular roofscape of the main part of the rambling palace rose and dipped under the firmament. The royal residence of Whitehall was so vast and sprawling that it covered twenty-three acres and was divided by King’s Street, the main route from Westminster to the city. Adam and Henry had seen the road when Lantern guided them to their meagre lodging and it was towards that highway they headed now.
Passing through a walled rose garden where carved wooden animals sat atop tall, painted columns, Adam halted. He broke off a spray of eglantine which he put to his nose and recalled that afternoon with Brindle in Lord Richard’s rose garden.
“Purity and absolution,” he murmured to himself.
“What are you jabbering about?” Henry asked impatiently. “This is no time for gardening, Coggy.”
Adam tucked the small white flowers into his tunic and they stealthily hastened towards the buildings which joined the Holbein Gate. “From there we can leave the palace grounds,” Henry assured him. “Then we’ll get to see what London’s really like.”
Adam had started to have serious doubts about this nocturnal venture. “Remember what happened last night when you went off,” he hissed. “There’s probably gangs of rogues out there, each one worse than Clink Kitson.”
“I’ve learned my lesson,” Henry promised. “We’ll stick to the main streets and not go down any dark alleyways.”
“I don’t know …”
“Come on, Coggy! Show some guts for once – you can’t be a worm all your life. Have some backbone; we won’t be gone for long.”
Stung by his words, Adam relented and they pressed on until a wide, timber-framed building reared before them. Warily, they hurried inside.
Finding themselves within a long, deserted gallery, the two boys crept along it as silently as they could. This was the way Lantern had brought them. It connected the two halves of the palace and was hung with tapestries and portraits. Adam wanted to linger and study them more closely but Henry dragged him on.
“No time for that,” he growled. “You can gawk at them in the daylight tomorrow. Bum boils!”
At the end of the gallery, two Yeomen of the Crown were standing on guard. The apprentices were stricken with a fearful paralysis, until they realised that the guards were facing each other and had as yet not spotted them. Henry pulled Adam over to a well of shadow, just beyond the reach of candlelight.
“There were no sentries there before,” Adam whispered. “What are we to do?”
Henry licked his lips as a bold and daring scheme fruited in his head. “Brazen it out,” he replied. “Say we’re on important business for the Queen and walk right by them.”
“You’re mad!”
“Oh? What can they do to us?”
Adam glanced down the gallery to the frightening spear and axe blades of the halberds which the guards gripped in their hands. “I can think of plenty of horrible things,” he answered.
But Henry was not listening and stepped from the shadows, dredging Adam with him. Assuming an enforced casual air, he strolled forwards and began a tuneless whistle.
At once the Yeomen of the Crown turned. “Halt and declare yourself,” one of them called.
“Henry Wattle – on the bidding of Her Majesty,” came the insolent reply.
An amused leer twitched across one of the men’s faces, revealing a row of blackened teeth. “Oh, are you now?” he asked archly.
“Indeed I am,” Henry retorted, although his faith in this plan was fading rapidly.
“And who might your friend be?”
“Adam o’the Cogs,” Henry told him.
“Can’t he talk for hisself?”
“Let us by,” Henry demanded with ever dwindling confidence. “We are companions of the heavenly messenger. We arrived with him and Lord Richard Wutton not an hour since.”
The guards looked at one another, then stood back to let the boys pass.
Neither Adam or Henry could believe that the bold and simple strategy had worked. Thanking their stars, they strode down the gallery and were about to march straight by the sentries when strong hands grabbed each of them by the arm.
“That’s spared us a weary chase,” cackled the guard who had spoken. “Now, it’s to our Captain you’ll be taken. Arrogant little dog – be whipped and put in the stocks to be pelted with stones, that’s what you’ll be.”
“Unhand me!” Henry yelled, clinging to his woeful ploy. “I’ll not go anywhere with a ruffian like you. I am a friend of Brindle’s!”
“And I know Doctor Dee!” Adam shouted.
“Oho!” the second guard laughed. “Angels and devils – what diverse company this lying pair keep.” Seizing hold of Henry’s other arm, he said to his confederate, “You go fetch the Captain. I’ll hold these two till you return.”
“Aye, I’ll seek him swiftly.”
The first sentry hastened from the gallery. The second guard waited till he heard the running footsteps recede, then turned to his prisoners and grinned at them.
“Now then,” he began. “I’ve no wish to spoil my chances in Heaven or in Hell, so I’ll loose you before black mouth Davey returns.”
To the boys’ surprise he released them.
“Thank you,” Adam said.
Resting on the shaft of his halberd, the guard scowled at them. “But where was you two impudent fellows headed at this hour of the clock?” he asked.
“We wanted to get outside the palace and look on the city,” Henry told him.
The man chuckled at their foolishness. “Did you think there’d be no one posted at the gate? Prize Toms of Bedlam, that’s what you two be.”
“Don’t split your tunic,” Henry said dryly as the sentry continued to laugh. “If you’ve done with us we’ll away, back to our lodging.”
“Won’t you get into trouble for letting us go?” Adam asked.
“I’ll say you were both too strong for me to keep captive,” came the jovial answer. “I was no match for two such burly giants as you.”
Henry managed a weak smile and started to retrace his steps up the gallery. “’Tis a good thing he became a guard,” the boy breathed to Adam. “The oaf would never have made it as jester.”
They had only gone a few yards when the man came running up behind them.
“Hold!” he said with new urgency in his voice.
“What have we done now?” Henry moaned. “Or have you thought of some other ribald mockery?”
“Are you still wishing to see the city?”
“Not if we have to steal past a hundred guards to do it.”
The sentry clicked his tongue then tapped a forefinger against his nose and winked. “I reckon I know a way,” he declared. “A nice easy path for you to slip in and out without notice.”
Henry folded his arms. “A way in and out of the palace that isn’t guarded?” th
e boy said. “You’d best stop up your ears, friend – before any more brains leak out.”
“’Tis a secret way I speak of,” the man reassured them. “Harking back to when old King Harry would visit his lady friends without the Boleyn getting to hear of it. ’Tain’t far and does lead straight to the road.”
Henry looked questioningly at Adam.
“If it’s so secret,” the apprentice muttered, “how does he know of it?”
“Us Yeomen have to know every hidden track,” came the proud and ready answer. “’Tis unknown to every other soul though.”
“Very well,” Henry decided for both of them. “Lead us there.”
“You must be quick, before Davey returns with our captain. This way, my titchy Gogmagogs.”
Propping his halberd against the panelling, the Yeoman took up a candle and led them into one of the empty rooms which opened off the gallery. Down a small stair they followed him, to a stone antechamber where a faded tapestry was draped across the far wall and before that stood a tall oak cupboard.
Passing the guttering candle to Henry, the guard heaved the cupboard forward and drew the tapestry aside.
A waft of cooler air came pushing into the room as a dark entrance was revealed in the stone wall and the sentry chuckled at the apprentices.
“Now, nip you in sharply,” he instructed. “This secret way will take you clean down to the King’s Street.”
Holding the candle before him, Henry stepped into the dark doorway and the wildly leaping flame revealed a dank passage and another set of stairs.
Before joining him, Adam thanked the guard again.
“No matter,” the man said. “Just you have a care outside these walls. There’s many a footpad and foist in yonder city.”
“You’ll keep the way open, won’t you?” Adam asked nervously.
“’Course. You come back whenever you feel as how you’ve seen enough.”
The boy smiled awkwardly, then ducked under the tapestry and the two apprentices set off, the bobbing glare of the candle flame shrinking down the passage.
Letting the tapestry fall back into place, the guard chuckled again, but this time it was not a pleasant sound and he pushed the great wooden cupboard back before the entrance. Leaning against it, he pulled from his belt a small leather purse and took out a shining gold coin.
“That were earned easy enough,” he snorted. “This – and two more pieces waiting on delivery. I didn’t even have to go looking for the poxy young coves. A fine night’s work this has been.”
Sniggering to himself, he left the antechamber and returned upstairs to his post, confident that those two boys would never be seen or heard of again.
Descending a spiral stair, Adam and Henry were unaware of the danger they were heading into. By the time they reached the bottommost step, the twisting journey had stolen their sense of direction and they assumed that the new passage which confronted them would lead to a concealed entrance near the road.
The cool night air was blowing more strongly through this dank way and Henry had difficulty shielding the candle from its buffeting influence. The arched walls of the tunnel were unusually damp, some places dripped with water and their feet splashed through many dirty pools.
“We must have gone down deep,” Adam murmured. “I reckon we’re underground, under the foundations of the palace. This is the river seeping in.”
“There’ll be more stairs then,” Henry said. “To take us back up level with the road. Look, there’s a bend ahead. The steps’ll prob’ly be just around that. Bum breath! ’Tis a good thing Brindle is not here to whiff this spot. ’Tis foul as Satan’s privy.”
As they followed the wet path around the corner, the breeze unexpectedly grew in strength and rushed about Henry’s protecting hand. The candle flame quailed briefly, then perished and the boys were suddenly lost in the dark.
“Coffin maggots!” Henry cried, throwing the useless candle away. “We’ll have to stumble along now.”
Putting their hands to the slime-running walls they blindly groped their way forward until at last they realised that the pitch gloom was lifting. Ahead of them a shimmering grey light illuminated the end of the tunnel and they went hurrying towards it, grateful to be getting out of the stinking murk.
As they drew near to the exit, the sound of rippling water came echoing to greet them and serpents of soft silver light went wiggling over the arched stonework.
Finally, the apprentices emerged into the night and they blinked in astonishment at where their journey had brought them.
“We must have made a wrong turning,” Henry muttered.
Staring at the unexpected sight in front, Adam was only just beginning to understand. Glimmering sombrely below, reflecting the bright stars far beyond the firmament, flowed the broad midnight ribbon of the Thames.
Instead of reaching King’s Street, they had gone in completely the opposite direction. The tunnel they had blundered along had led straight to a narrow flight of stairs leading down to the river. The tide was turning and a desolate, muddy bank had been exposed either side of the steps but there, pulled out on to the miry shore, was a rowing boat.
Adam peered into the darkness. The river’s edge was devoid of any movement and stretched in both directions without a sign of any presence but their own. The boat appeared to have been abandoned.
“Why don’t we take it?” Henry whispered. “The oars are there and this way will be even better than going by the road.”
“You’re quite happy stealing, aren’t you?” Adam tutted.
“What’s wrong with that?”
Eagerly, Henry negotiated the slippery stairs and Adam was obliged to follow him. When they reached the bottom, they were thankful to discover that the mud was not too thick and squelched quickly to the forsaken boat.
Suddenly a fierce shout rang behind them and both boys spun around to see three cloaked figures come leaping from the concealing shadows where they had lain in wait.
“Get them!” A harsh voice called. “Hold them!”
With the river on one side and the towering walls of the palace rising on the other, there was nowhere for Adam or Henry to run. There was no time to jump into the boat and row to safety, and when they tried to cry for help, cruel fists punched the breath from them.
Against their powerful assailants, any struggle was futile and the attack was over in seconds. Callused hands snatched them, twisting the apprentices’ arms behind their backs, gags were pulled painfully tight across their mouths and their eyes blindfolded.
Screaming noiselessly into the filthy restraint, Adam felt iron bands clasp around his wrists, pinching his skin as they snapped shut. A similar pain bit into his ankles as his feet were locked together and, like game poached from the old world, he was lifted high and dropped into a great sack.
A grunt of exertion sounded through the coarse cloth when the man hoisted the boy higher and cast him into the boat. But the villain’s vicious strength had hurled Adam a mite too far and the apprentice’s head struck the wooden side. A white flower of agony exploded behind his crushed eyes and, as the boat was hauled out into the water, Adam o’the Cogs lost consciousness and lay as still as death.
CHAPTER 5
With the Count de Feria
Even as the Queen led Brindle into the centre of the banqueting house to teach him the steps of La Volta, the sack containing Cog Adam was dumped unceremoniously on to a creaking wooden floor.
A second squeaking ‘thud’ proclaimed the unloading of Henry next to him, accompanied by the Wattle boy’s stifled yells.
Adam had known nothing of the journey to this place. When the craft finally came to a bumping rest, he had not felt those same unmerciful hands haul him up and carry him ungently through darkened streets. Now the fall from his captor’s shoulder had jolted him out of that oblivion and his thoughts gradually came drifting back. Distorted voices filtered into his slowly returning senses and with them came a terrible pounding which crashed agai
nst his bruised temple like a hammer.
“I am much grateful,” thanked one of the speakers in a thick, garbled accent. “So high pleased with this and what swift work it was, you clever fellows.”
“Haw!” crowed a different, more brutish voice. “Thems took no difficult catchin’. We bagged ’em just like two pigeons.”
“Yes, yes, you is deserved of your wage and there, she is an extra shilling for each of you – so prompt.”
“That’s what we likes to see, a gentleman with loose purse strings.”
“Well, is closed now. Go, spend coin on drink, gambling or in pretty arms, if you can find a pretty woman in this country. They all are looking like milking maids to me, no? With faces like the dairy pudding.”
“Any more little tasks you want doin’, you know where to find us.”
“In gutter and low den of vice – I know.”
“Always happy to be of service, ain’t we?”
There was a murmur of agreement then three voices called, “Goodnight to you, Master.”
“Yes, hurry out – slink back to scum and worthless lives.”
Heavy footsteps shuffled away from the bound apprentices, a door closed, then a lighter tread returned, halting beside the squirming bundle that was Henry.
“Where my pinking dagger? Ah, there she is.”
Henry felt a firm tug on the sacking, immediately followed by a ripping noise and the thick cloth was torn aside.
“Ho, one little bird to the cage. I hope he have good voice to sing. Don Gomez want to hear lot of tunes tonight.”
A sharp jab in his shoulder told Adam that the owner of the voice had turned his attention to him and had pushed the knife a trifle too deeply through the sacking.
“Pardonny – is always lacking the patience.”
The sack containing Adam was ripped open.
“Oh, ugly mark on this one. Those clumsy fellows, they think only with knuckles. Prithee Our Lady, no damage have they done.”
Adam felt a cool hand pat the throbbing side of his head and the sudden pain caused him to sit upright as the blindfold was pulled from his eyes.