Friargate was a wide, hilly road with two rows of shops, and I found the locksmith’s easily. The name above the shop said ANDREW GREGORY, but the premises were in darkness. I had to knock three times before a light flickered in the upstairs room.
Andrew opened the door and held a candle up to my face. He was wearing a long nightshirt and his face held a mixture of expressions. He looked puzzled, angry, and weary.
“Your brother’s in danger,” I said, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. “I would have warned him myself, but I don’t know where he’s staying. . . .”
He beckoned me in without a word and led me through into his workshop. The walls were festooned with keys and locks of every possible shape and size. One large key was as long as my forearm, and I wondered at the size of the lock it belonged to. Quickly I explained what had happened.
“I told him he was a fool to stay here!” he exclaimed, thumping his fist down hard on the top of a workbench. “And damn that treacherous, two-faced cousin of ours! I knew all along he wasn’t to be trusted. The Bane must have finally got to him, twisting his mind to get John out of the way—the one person in the whole County who still poses a real threat to it!”
He went upstairs, but it didn’t take him long to get dressed. Soon we were heading back through the empty streets, taking a route that led us back in the direction of the cathedral.
“He’s staying at the Book and Candle,” muttered Andrew Gregory, shaking his head. “Why on earth didn’t he tell you that? You could have saved time by going straight there. Let’s hope we’re not too late!”
But we were too late. We heard them from several streets away: men’s voices raised in anger and someone thumping a door loud enough to wake the dead.
We watched from a corner, taking care not to be seen. There was nothing we could do now. The Quisitor was there on his huge horse, and he had about twenty armed men at his command. They had cudgels, and some of them had drawn their swords as if they expected resistance. One of the men hammered on the inn door again with the hilt of his sword.
“Open up! Open up! Be quick about it!” he shouted. “Or we’ll break down the door!”
There was the sound of bolts being drawn back, and the innkeeper came to the door in his nightshirt, holding a lantern. He looked bewildered, as if he’d just woken up from a very deep sleep. He saw only the two armed men facing him, not the Quisitor. Perhaps that was why he made a big mistake: He began to protest and bluster.
“What’s this?” he cried. “Can’t a man get some sleep after a hard day’s work? Disturbing the peace at this time of night! I know my rights. There’s laws against such things.”
“Fool!” shouted the Quisitor angrily, riding closer to the door. “I am the law! A warlock sleeps within your walls. A servant of the Devil! Sheltering a known enemy of the Church carries dire penalties. Stand aside or pay with your life!”
“Sorry, lord. Sorry!” wailed the innkeeper, holding up his hands in supplication, a look of terror on his face.
In answer the Quisitor simply gestured to his men, who seized the innkeeper roughly. Without ceremony he was dragged into the street and hurled to the ground.
Then, very deliberately, with cruelty etched on his face, the Quisitor rode his white stallion over the innkeeper. A hoof came down hard on his leg and I clearly heard the bone snap. My blood ran cold. The man lay screaming on the ground while four of the guards ran into the house; their boots thumped up the wooden stairs.
When they dragged the Spook outside, he looked old and frail. Perhaps a little afraid, too, but I was too far away to be sure.
“Well, John Gregory, you’re mine at last!” cried the Quisitor, in a loud, arrogant voice. “Those dry old bones of yours should burn well!”
The Spook didn’t answer. I watched them tie his hands behind his back and lead him away down the street.
“All these years, then it comes to this,” muttered Andrew. “He always meant well. He doesn’t deserve to burn.”
I couldn’t believe it was happening. I had a lump in my throat so big that, until the Spook had been taken around the corner and out of sight, I couldn’t even speak. “We’ve got to do something!” I said at last.
Andrew shook his head wearily. “Well, boy, have a think about it and then tell me just what we’re supposed to do. Because I haven’t a clue. You’d better come back to my place and at first light get as far away from here as possible.”
CHAPTER VIII
Brother Peter’s Tale
THE kitchen was at the back of the house, overlooking a small flagged yard. As the sky grew lighter, Andrew offered me some breakfast. It wasn’t much, just an egg and a slice of toasted bread. I thanked him but had to refuse because I was still fasting. To eat would mean I’d accepted that the Spook was gone and that we wouldn’t be facing the Bane together. Anyway, I didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry.
I’d done what Andrew had suggested. Since the Spook had been taken, I’d spent every single moment thinking of how we could save him. I thought about Alice, too. If I didn’t do something, they were both going to burn.
“Mr. Gregory’s bag is still in my room at the Black Bull,” I suddenly remembered, turning to the locksmith. “And he must have left his staff and our cloaks in his room at the inn. How will we get them back?”
“Well, that’s one thing I can help you with,” Andrew said. “It’s too risky for either of us to go, but I know someone who could pick them up for you. I’ll see to it later.”
While I watched Andrew eating, a bell started to ring somewhere in the distance. It had a single dull tone and there was a long pause between each chime. It sounded mournful, like the tolling of a funeral bell.
“Is that from the cathedral?” I asked.
Andrew nodded and carried on chewing his food very slowly. He looked as if he’d as little appetite as I had.
I wondered if it was calling people to an early morning service, but before I could say as much Andrew swallowed his piece of toast and told me, “It means another death at the cathedral or at some other church in the town. Either that or a priest’s died somewhere else in the County and the news has only just got here. It’s a common sound here these days. I’m afraid any priests who question the darkness and corruption in our town are swiftly dealt with.”
I shuddered. “Does everybody in Priestown know it’s the Bane that’s the cause of the dark times?” I asked. “Or just the priests?”
“The Bane’s common enough knowledge. In the area closest to the cathedral, most folk have had the doors to their cellars bricked up, and fear and superstition are rife. Who can blame the townsfolk when they can’t even rely on their own priests to protect them? No wonder congregations are dwindling,” Andrew said, shaking his head sadly.
“Did you finish the key?” I asked him.
“Aye,” he said, “but poor John won’t be needing it now.”
“We could use it,” I said, speaking quickly so that I could finish what I was saying before he stopped me. “The catacombs run right under the cathedral and presbytery, so there could be a way up into them. We could wait until dark, when everyone’s asleep, and get up into the house.”
“That’s just foolishness,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “The presbytery’s huge, with a lot of rooms both above and below ground. And we don’t even know where the prisoners are being held. Not only that, there are armed men guarding them. Do you want to burn as well? I certainly don’t!”
“It’s worth a try,” I insisted. “They won’t expect anyone to come up into the house from below with the Bane down there. We’ll have surprise on our side and maybe the guards will be asleep.”
“No,” Andrew said, shaking his head firmly. “It’s madness. It’s not worth two more lives.”
“Then give me the key and I’ll do it.”
“You’d never find your way without me. It’s a maze of tunnels down there.”
“So you do know the way?” I said. “You’ve been d
own there before?”
“Aye, I know the way as far as the Silver Gate. But that’s as far as I’d ever want to go. And it’s twenty years since I went down there with John. That thing down there nearly killed him. It could kill us, too. You heard John: It’s changing from a spirit, shape-shifting into God knows what. We could meet anything down there. Folk have spoken of ferocious black dogs with huge, gaping jaws and bared teeth. The Bane can read your mind, remember, take the shape of your worst fears. No, it’s too dangerous. I don’t know which fate is worse—being burned alive at the stake by the Quisitor or pressed to death by the Bane. They’re not choices a young lad should be making.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “You deal with the locks and I’ll do my job.”
“If my brother couldn’t cope, then what hope have you? He was still in his prime then, and you’re just a boy.”
“I’m not daft enough to try and destroy the Bane,” I said. “I’d just do enough to get the Spook to safety.”
Andrew shook his head. “How long have you been with him?”
“Nearly six months,” I said.
“Well,” said Andrew, “that tells us everything, doesn’t it? You mean well, I know that, but we’d just be making things worse.”
“The Spook told me that burning’s a terrible death. The worst death of all. That’s why he doesn’t hold with burning a witch. Would you let him suffer that? Please, you’ve got to help. It’s his last chance.”
This time Andrew didn’t say anything. He sat for a long time, deep in thought. When he did get up from his chair, all he said was that I should stay out of sight.
That seemed a good sign. At least he hadn’t sent me packing.
I sat in the back, kicking my heels, as the morning slowly wore on. I hadn’t slept at all and I was tired, but sleep was the last thing on my mind after the events of the night.
Andrew was working. Most of the time I could hear him in his workshop, but sometimes there was a tinkle from the doorbell as a customer entered or left the shop.
It was almost noon before Andrew came back into the kitchen. There was something different in his face. He looked thoughtful. And walking right behind him was someone else!
I came to my feet, ready to run, but the back door was locked and the two men were between me and the other doorway. Then I recognized the stranger and relaxed. It was Brother Peter, and he was carrying the Spook’s bag and staff and our cloaks!
“It’s all right, boy,” Andrew said, walking up and laying his hand on my shoulder in reassurance. “Take that anxious look off your face and sit yourself back down. Brother Peter is a friend. Look, he’s brought you John’s things.”
He smiled and handed me the bag, staff, and cloaks. I accepted them with a nod of thanks and put them in the corner before sitting down. Both men pulled chairs out from the table and sat facing me.
Brother Peter was a man who’d spent most of his life working in the open air, and the skin on his head was weathered by the wind and sun to an even shade of brown. He was as tall as Andrew but didn’t stand as upright. His back and shoulders were bent, perhaps with too many years working away at the earth with a trowel or hoe. His nose was his most distinctive feature; it was hooked like a crow’s beak, but his eyes were set wide apart and had a kindly twinkle. My instincts told me that he was a good man.
“Well,” he said, “you were lucky it was me doing the rounds last night and not one of the others, or you’d have found yourself back in that cell! As it was, Father Cairns summoned me just after dawn and I’d a few awkward questions to answer. He wasn’t happy and I’m not sure that he’s finished with me yet!”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Brother Peter smiled. “Don’t worry, lad. I’m just a gardener with a reputation for being hard of hearing. He won’t bother himself for long about me. Not when the Quisitor’s got so many others ready for burning!”
“Why did you let me escape?” I asked.
Brother Peter raised his eyebrows. “Not all priests are under the control of the Bane. I know he’s your cousin,” he said, turning to Andrew, “but I don’t trust Father Cairns. I think the Bane may have got to him.”
“I’ve been thinking as much myself,” said Andrew. “John was betrayed, and I’m sure the Bane must have been behind it all. It knows John’s a threat to it, so it got that weak cousin of ours to get rid of him.”
“Aye, I think you’re right. Did you notice his hand? He says it’s bandaged because he burned himself on a candle, but Father Hendle had an injury in a similar place after the Bane got to him. I think Cairns has given that creature his blood.”
I must have looked horrified because Brother Peter came over and put an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, son. There are still some good men left in that cathedral, and I may just be a lowly brother, but I count myself one of them and do the Lord’s work whenever I can. I’ll do everything in my power to help you and your master. The dark hasn’t won yet! So let’s get down to business. Andrew tells me that you’re brave enough to go down into the catacombs. Is that right?” he asked, rubbing the end of his nose thoughtfully.
“Somebody has to do it, so I’m willing to try,” I told him.
“And what if you come face-to-face with . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. It was almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to say “the Bane.”
“Has anyone told you what you could be facing? About the shape-shifting, and the mind reading and the . . .” He hesitated and looked over his shoulder before whispering, “Pressing?”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” I said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt. “But there are things I could do. It doesn’t like silver. . . .”
I unlocked the Spook’s bag, reached into it and showed them the silver chain. “I could bind it with this,” I said, staring straight into Brother Peter’s eyes and trying not to blink.
The two men looked at each other, and Andrew smiled. “Practiced a lot, have you?” he asked.
“For hours and hours,” I told him. “There’s a post in Mr. Gregory’s garden at Chipenden. I can cast this chain at it from eight feet away and drop it clean over it nine times out of ten.”
“Well, if you could somehow get past that creature and reach the presbytery tonight, one thing would be on your side. It would certainly be quieter than normal,” Brother Peter said. “The death last night was at the cathedral, so the body’s already here, rather than out of town. Tonight nearly all the priests will be in there keeping a vigil.”
From my Latin lessons I knew that “vigil” meant “awake.” It still didn’t tell me what they’d be up to.
“They say prayers and watch over the body,” Andrew said, smiling at the puzzlement on my face. “Who was it who died, Peter?”
“Poor Father Roberts. Took his own life. Threw himself from the roof. That’s five suicides this year already,” he said, glancing at Andrew, then staring right back at me. “It gets inside their minds, you see. Makes them do things that are against God and against their conscience. And that’s a very hard thing for a priest who’s taken holy orders to serve God. So when he can’t stand it any longer, he sometimes takes his own life, which is a mortal sin, and the priest knows he can never go to heaven, never be with God. Think how bad it must be to drive them to that! If only we could be rid of this terrible evil before there’s nothing good left in the town for it to corrupt.”
There was a short silence, as if we were all thinking, but then I saw Brother Peter’s mouth moving and I thought that he might be praying for the poor dead priest. When he made the sign of the cross, I was sure of it. Then the two men glanced at each other and they both nodded. Without speaking, they’d reached an agreement.
“I’ll go with you as far as the Silver Gate,” Andrew said. “After that, Brother Peter here might be able to help . . .”
Was Brother Peter going with us? He must have read the expression on my face because he held up both hands, smiled, and s
hook his head.
“Oh, no, Tom. I lack the courage to go anywhere near the catacombs. No, what Andrew means is that I can help in another way: by giving you directions. You see, there’s a map of the tunnels. It’s mounted in a frame just inside the presbytery entrance—the one that leads directly to the garden. I’ve lost count of the hours I’ve spent waiting there for one of the priests to come down and give me my duties for the day. Over the years I’ve gotten to know every inch of that map. Do you want to write this down, or can you remember it?”
“I’ve got a good memory,” I told him.
“Well, just tell me if you want me to repeat anything. As Andrew said, he’ll guide you as far as the Silver Gate. Once through it, just keep going until the tunnel forks. Follow the left-hand passage until you reach some steps. They lead up to a door, beyond which is the big wine cellar of the presbytery. It’ll be locked, but that should cause no problem at all when you’ve a friend like Andrew. There’s only one other door that leads from the cellar, and it’s on the far wall in the right-hand corner.”
“But can’t the Bane follow me through into the wine cellar and escape?” I asked.
“No—it can only leave the catacombs through the Silver Gate, so you’re quite safe from it once you’ve gone through the door into the wine cellar. Now, before you leave the cellar there’s something you should do. There’s a trapdoor in the ceiling to the left of the door. It leads up to the path that runs along the north wall of the cathedral—the deliverymen use it to get the wine and ale down there. Unlock it before you go any farther. It should prove a faster escape route than going back to the gate. Is that clear so far?”
“Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to use that trapdoor to get down?” I asked. “That way I could avoid the Silver Gate and the Bane!”
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 25