The Secrets of Life and Death (37 page)

The light disappeared into the hollow of the inquisitor’s body as he bent over the lock. Scratching, grinding noises were followed by another explosion in the nave behind them, bringing a tornado of hot smoke into the room. When Felix could see again, a yellow flicker outlined the sacristy door.

The lock mechanism clunked and ground, then a slap of cold air revived Felix. He lifted the girl, staggering towards the door, the teenager’s head knocking against his collarbone with each step.

‘Jack! Come on!’ He followed McNamara into the graveyard beyond.

‘Is she really dead?’ Jack’s voice sounded rough, and taking another gasp made her cough. He could hear her dragging her feet behind him on the gravel behind the church.

Felix eased his burden onto the slight rise of a grave mound, below the shadow of the churchyard wall. The faint light of the torch illuminated the girl’s face again. Felix felt for a pulse, but wasn’t sure he could feel one, his own hands were shaking so much.

McNamara tapped an object in his hand. ‘My phone’s dead. We need to get out of here before the police arrive and I need to call for backup.’

‘What for?’ Alarm sharpened Felix’s voice.

‘You saw. You saw what
she
has become.’ The man’s voice was low. ‘Jack is no better than the demon she destroyed.’

Felix looked at Jack, slumped on the grass.

‘She did what she had to, to save our lives. She was prepared to die for us.’

‘It would have been better if she had. You don’t know the consequences of a revenant taking blood …’ But his voice sounded less certain.

‘Please.’ Felix swallowed more words. This strange hard man seemed driven more by duty than feeling, yet he had disobeyed orders. Emotional appeals might not work, but reason seemed to influence him. ‘Give her the benefit of the doubt. If she turns out like … that, then do your worst. With my blessing. But at least give her time to prove herself.’ He looked at Jack in the pale light available. She was huddled on the ground, head on the grass. ‘Is she out?’

‘She appears to be. If she wakes up possessed by blood craving, we may not be able to control her.’ Still he waited. Finally, he turned the silhouette of his head. ‘I thought the child was dead.’

Felix couldn’t find a pulse on the collapsed girl’s neck. He fumbled at her wrist, wincing at the torn flesh there. One bump, maybe imagined, brushed his fingers. A long moment, then another tiny pulsation.

‘Not dead, no. We need Maggie’s knowledge. She’s the witch that created them. She knows more than I do about borrowed time.’

The inquisitor bent his head, and over the crashing and crackling of the flames Felix could hear the screeching of wheels and sirens at the front of the church. Then Felix caught the murmur of prayer, the Latin words soft, pleading with an unseen authority. Felix held his breath. Finally the man lifted his head, his eyes glittering in the distant light.

‘I will help you. But, if at any moment, she turns—’

‘If she turns into what that woman was, I’ll kill her myself.’ Felix gathered Sadie into his arms and lifted her up, staggering a little onto the gravel path. ‘Come on, the fire brigade will be here any minute.’

‘In my own country, the German school of swordsmanship is the technique of our grandfathers. I was taught Italian styles, and holding a bastard weapon, a hand-and-a-half sword like a bladed crucifix, was foreign to me. I recalled what I could of Thomas Kelley when he chided me upon my earliest battles with my cousin John. Attack at two lengths, cut up against a blow, plant feet apart. Rather a bastard sword than no sword, I say.’

Edward Kelley
Date not recorded, believed to be mid-December 1585
Csejte Castle

János led the way across the dungeon into the cave, while Miklós handed me a sword. I am not completely ignorant of the art of swordsmanship – I was considered a nimble fighter in my youth – but I have never carried arms in earnest. I am certain Dee would have been even less useful, and they must have agreed as they burdened the old man with several of the leather bags.

The hilt was rough in my hand, the blade too long and heavy for comfort, and I resolved to use it only in defence. I followed Miklós’s handful of grim-faced, hooded warriors ahead of Dee, and a group of Konrad’s guards, one already injured. This man spoke to another in German. Perhaps he thought I would not understand.

‘We go to our deaths,’ he said, his voice shaking.

He was a young man, less than twenty, I thought.

‘To everlasting life, then,’ replied an older companion, clapping a fatherly hand upon the first’s shoulder. This inspired no confidence in me as I struggled through the cave under the weight of the massive sword. In a far corner, the alcove that seemed to be used for storage was already being cleared out, and bundles of rusting armour flung to the floor. Behind was a wooden panel, which, with the hammering of János’s sword hilt, yielded to reveal a small doorway, barely wide enough for a man to squeeze through.

Miklós turned to address us in Latin.

‘We go stealthily. No rattles, no stamping. We have surprise to aid us. Lord János’s men are within the yard, to the left, they will smite only with the flat of the blade. Do not harm them. Nádasdy’s troops are far more dangerous; they wear the bearskins. We have fed them much ale and wine, so we may have a small advantage.’ He paused for a moment, looking at the dark shapes before him. ‘Do not let them get to their horses. Once they are mounted we can never defeat them. I have arranged a diversion. Remember: stay left, head for the postern gate and kill anyone in a bearskin.’

Shudders spread through me and I was filled with a sense of cold. The first group slid through the dark entryway, lit by a stinking tallow candle. Dee was handed another to light our way. I saw his face then, not the gentle scholar I knew so well, but the face of a determined and strong man, rich with experience.

‘Onwards, Edward,’ he said in English, with the light of battle in his eyes. ‘Onwards, for God and St George!’ Then he smiled, and despite the uselessness of his words, I felt cheered.

The floor of the tunnel was roughly stepped, and I staggered and tripped at first. It led into the back of a stable, the horses gone, the mire stinking. The main gates were open, and men shouted outside as they attempted to recapture the horses, I suppose, that they released before the ritual. Miklós beckoned to Konrad, visible because of his height, and they crept to the stable doors. Miklós waved us on, and we ran forward. I followed my escort, emboldened by Dee’s words, and raised my sword for protection.

The battle was confusing, and fast. Men grunted and heaved, sword against sword, and pushed shoulders into their opponents. Many buckled easily under the strain, János’s troops, I presumed. For me, it was one blow after another. A buffet from a cudgel knocked me to my knees, a sword flashed in the light of a brazier towards my face. It was slashed away by Konrad’s blade, his cloak swinging back from a polished breastplate over his robes. As I staggered to my feet my hood fell into my eyes, and when I raised my left hand, the flat of a sword caught my wrist with a blow I feared had cracked it. I howled in pain, and much by instinct, managed to parry another blow from one of the bearskinned Magyars, now pouring into the yard. The next strike would have sliced me in two if one of Konrad’s men hadn’t cannoned into me, and taken a cut that hacked his arm almost from his body. He did not hesitate, but threw himself into his attacker, his dying energy knocking the Magyar to the ground. Konrad, my guardian, despatched him.

I followed the inquisitor, hoping that Dee was behind me, as we slipped past the mêlée to a small gate hidden beside the guard tower. A roar of shouts seemed to be chasing us, yet when I turned to see my fellow fighters, they seemed to have detached themselves from the battle outside.

János’s voice reached me, still filled with some wry laughter. ‘The peasants have come to reclaim their daughters. We sent spies to tell them the countess will drain their blood.’

I saw that we were down to Dee and I, Lord János, a hooded man of János’s, three of Konrad’s soldiers and the inquisitor himself. János looked out of the gate, watching the riot outside.

‘Come,’ he said, and slid out of the gate into the shadow of the wall. I followed, with Konrad’s sword-hand in the small of my back, urging me on.

The scene was hellish, the peasants armed with tools and sticks, the Magyars with swords and pikes, the scene lit by long torches carried by the invaders. As I watched, a screaming woman, her anguished face contorted with hate, reached a soldier with a flail and whipped it cruelly about his head. His sword ran under the tool and pierced her in what, with horror, I realised was a pregnant belly. He fell to the pitchfork of another woman, and I saw a soldier stabbed by a man with long white hair. Another bearskin screamed as a torch was thrust into his face, setting his cloak and beard ablaze. The peasants outnumbered the soldiers, and at a snapped order, the troops fell back into the main gateway.

I watched no more, dragged along with the group, away from the peasants. They would no doubt have killed us, had they seen us. János led us into a shallow moat filled with a foot of mud but at least no water, and we crept through the shadows, out of sight of the main gates. I staggered up the slope out of the ditch, finding support from Konrad’s strong hand.

‘Well done,’ he said, and I heard the smile in his voice.

As we stepped through the trees, a crack of a twig to my right made me swing around, my mouth open to cry an alarm. A hand clamped upon my face and swung me off my feet. A dagger’s bite crept along my throat, but a murmur from János stilled the blade. A few dark shapes materialised out of the trees, the faintest hint of dawn tinting the sky. Horses, maybe a dozen, were tethered under the trees, and their warm breath surrounded me as I was shoved towards them.

Konrad threw his leg over one, as if he had flown onto its back. I leaned on the nearest mount, fumbling for stirrups, then climbed into one of the high saddles. A strong hand grasped my bridle, and dragged my animal into a canter. No longer able to disguise the sound of the hooves, we came upon the mob at the main gates, and they turned for a moment towards us. Then a roar of words were thrown at us, one of which I’m sure was
czarownica
, the local word for witch. As we rode them down, slashing and smashing our swords against the peasants, I saw the faces of servants, people who had served me food, brought me clean linens, even the old woman who had bathed me. Their faces were twisted with hate and madness. In a few hoof beats, they were behind us and we were on the road, our horses toiling beneath us.

As the inquisitor opened the car door, the light showed the full extent of his injuries. His face was a mass of bruises, he favoured one shoulder and dragged one foot. The front of his chest was soaked in blood. He helped Felix place Sadie on the back seat and they returned for Jack.

She hadn’t moved, and Felix realised she had passed out. Her pulse was strong – maybe too strong, leaping under his fingers. McNamara helped Felix lift Jack, and directed him to lay her in the boot. As he placed her in the car, Felix realised it was decorated with the sigils, top and bottom. It was also filled with chains and cuffs anchored to the metal of the floor.

‘You aren’t going to …’ Felix watched as Jack groaned, rolled her head to one side, as if she was waking up.

‘It’s a precaution. See to the child.’

Felix left Jack reluctantly, leaving McNamara to secure her. Sadie sighed when he touched her, and he covered her with a coat he found on the back seat.

He shut the door, and came around to look at Jack, shackled in the boot like a wild animal. She was still out.

‘Is that really necessary?’

‘Yes.’ The man’s voice was cool, convincing. Nevertheless, he reached around Jack to pull out a tarpaulin and cover her body. He added a jacket, wrapping it around her. ‘She is very cold, and in shock.’

‘She’s resilient.’ Felix brushed his hand through his hair and was surprised to find it was still wet. It was raining gently around them.

McNamara shook his head as he shut the boot with a heavy click. ‘She was dying. They slow down, they run out of vital force as the years pass. She probably had a couple of years left at best. Twenty years is about the maximum most of them last, some much less.’

‘And now?’ The man wouldn’t meet his gaze.

‘Now – she is something else. Something I have pledged my life to eliminate.’

Felix held out his hand. ‘Give me the keys. You’re in no condition to drive.’

For a moment, McNamara looked down at him, then handed them over. He limped around the bonnet, and slumped in the passenger seat. He collapsed against the chair and groaned.

‘Was that really
the
Elizabeth Báthory?’ The car purred into life, and Felix eased through the northern gate and onto the road as a police car, lights blazing, tore past in a shower of gravel towards the chapel.

McNamara rolled his head towards Felix and sighed. ‘That is what she became. We’ve been following her progress for more than four hundred years. She’s killed hundreds of girls and left thousands half dead.’

‘We. You mean, the Inquisition.’ It still sounded strange to Felix.

‘Yes, the Inquisition. I know you are emotionally involved with these women, but surely, seeing what they are must make you realise we can’t perpetuate their unnatural existence.’

‘Or what?’ Felix braked a little hard, hearing McNamara groan as he was thrown forward in the seat. ‘Sorry. Maybe you are right, and neither should have been saved. But here they are. They have feelings, and memories, and I can’t just put them down like rabid dogs.’

‘I can’t work … with witches and revenants.’ McNamara’s voice was weaker. Felix looked at him. His face was pale, his eyes closed.

‘Maybe I should drop you at a hospital.’

‘No! No, I will be fine.’ He winced. ‘I’ve been worse. And this time, we won.’

Felix drove towards his house, listening for the sound that one of them was waking. McNamara leaned back several times to feel Sadie’s pulse, but apart from confirming she was alive, said nothing else.