The Silver Skull (29 page)

"What makes a man?" he said to Cavillex. "Defiance in the face of brutality and oppression."

"The Spaniard was right, you know. You think you are the hero in this play? You are not."

Will spat a mouthful of blood. "There are no heroes."

"You will tell me what I need to know."

Will sighed. "Let us dispense with this chat. You already torture me with your words.

Boredom is your greatest weapon."

Nonchalantly, Cavillex selected another tool from the tray. Gritting his teeth, Will steeled himself.

Through the window came the distant sound of voices. Briefly, Cavillex hesitated, then continued towards Will as he considered which new part of his body to assault. The noise continued to draw closer, a crowd, shouting angrily. Hazy from the pain, Will couldn't make out the words.

The crowd washed up against the building, their voices so loud Will couldn't hear Cavillex's quiet words. Somewhere below them a window shat tered. Objects clattered against the side of the house. Puzzlement briefly crossed Cavillex's face, and he turned back to the window. Will watched his body stiffen as he studied the scene in the street below.

"It appears you have gained the attention of the good people of Edinburgh," Will said wryly.

A rain of missiles rattled against the wall, and a steady boom echoed from the front door as the crowd attempted to break it down. When Cavillex turned to Will, his expression was cold and murderous.

"Does it serve your purpose to stand and fight?" Will asked. "Or will you melt into the mist as you always do?"

Thoughts crossed Cavillex's face, all of them unreadable. He looked to his assistants and nodded.

"So, your pleasure has been cut short," Will croaked brightly. "It appears my life is to end much sooner than anticipated."

"No," Cavillex said.

"No?"

"I told you, our skill at drawing out suffering is unmatched. Your kind has woken an angry beast. And you have gained our attention. Your activities in the past were an irritation, easily forgotten, like all your kind. But this night you killed one of our own-"

"Who caused the death of one of my own."

"No matter. When you kill a rabbit in the field, do you give it a second thought? But you have slain something unique and wild and astonishing."

Will was surprised to see tears sting Cavillex's eyes.

"You have stolen from this world something wonderful. Yes, we have noticed you. And your crime against all there is must be punished."

"This is never going to end," Will replied. "You prey upon us, we shut you out. You attack us, we attack you. You kill one of ours, we kill one back. What is there to gain?"

"It will end, and soon," Cavillex said. "And your corruption upon the face of this world will be wiped away, and you will be forgotten."

The window burst inwards, showering glass all around Cavillex, but he didn't flinch. His attention was fixed solely on Will as if there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

"You have gained our attention," he repeated in a quiet voice that was filled with such emotion it carried above the roar of the crowd. "You have someone you love?" He let the final word roll around his mouth with contempt. "Not the one we spoke of earlier. Someone close to you now. A friend, perhaps, someone you hold in affection." His gaze was heavy upon Will.

Grace.

Cavillex nodded. "I see now. A woman. When we leave this place we will find her."

"No," Will said.

"We will take her. We will show her the heights of our skills. We will make the fibre of her being ring out with unimagined agonies. But she will live. Until we bring you back to us, and then we will slowly slaughter you in front of her, so that everything in her heart that she felt for you is corrupted by her final memory of your suffering. And then we will set her free to live with her misery. A life lived in that manner is usually short."

"No!" Will raged.

Cavillex's cold smile was the cruellest tool he had used that night.

"No!" Will roared until his throat burned, and tore at his bonds until his already bloody wrists were numb, and he threw himself against the chair in a futile attempt to break free. He thought of Grace, and he thought of jenny, and his anger consumed him. If he could have freed himself, he would have torn Cavillex limb from limb. All the pain he had suffered in his life, and the agony that so many around him had suffered, was to be magnified.

It will never end.

When the fury finally cleared, Cavillex was gone.

Within minutes, the door to the street burst in and the mob raced through the building, smashing doors and windows, but they found no sign that the Unseelie Court had been there-just an old, deserted house left to its ghosts.

Calling for help above the tumult, Will was finally answered by Nathaniel and another man. When they paused briefly in front of him, concern lit their faces and he realised how he must look, covered in blood, with too many wounds to count.

"They are all small things," he croaked. "A physician will stitch them in no time. Help me." The biggest wound lay inside him.

The other man rejoined the mob, and as Nathaniel fumbled to untie Will's bonds, he said,

"I returned to the carriage and when I did not find you there, I knew you must have been brought to this foul place."

"You disobeyed me, Nat. You put at risk everything for which we fight."

"You would never have left me behind, were I in need," Nathaniel responded defiantly.

The bonds fell to the floor, and he helped Will to his feet. Though he struggled to stand unaided, he was too weak.

"Thank you," Will said. Though only two words, the depth of his gratitude was clear.

"I would be a poor assistant if I let my master die when it was in my power to prevent it."

"You have undreamed-of abilities, Nat. You raised a mob."

"Not an easy task. The people here lived in fear of ... your enemy."

Will winced when he heard the beginnings of understanding in Nathaniel's words.

"But I convinced them that together they had a power they did not have alone," Nathaniel continued, before adding quietly, "That, and a promise of some small reward if they saved your life."

"Small reward?"

"Quite a large one, truth be told."

"You are giving away the queen's money, Nat. Walsingham will not be pleased that you have bought such a poor thing with her fortune. Help me out of here, quickly. There is much to do-"

"Not for you. If you lose more blood you will die, Will."

"I cannot rest. Grace is in danger." Will swayed, close to fainting.

"You must see a physician first."

Resting against the doorjamb, Will said weakly, "Then I must ask more of you. Leave Edinburgh now. Take whatever money you can from Reidheid's house, and a horse, and ride for London. Find Walsingham and tell him Grace is in danger from the Enemy. She must be protected at all costs."

"And the amulet?"

Will hesitated. "I would not wish this upon you if it were not an emergency, Nat."

"And if you did not call upon me in a time of crisis, I would not forgive you, Will."

"The amulet must be delivered to Walsingham. It is not safe here. You will be safer once you cross the border into England, but you will still be a target. Your life will be at risk. Keep to the highways. Avoid the moors and the hills and the lakes. If you can, find someone to travel with you at all times. Do you understand me?" Will caught Nathaniel's arm with a desperation that troubled his friend.

"You can count on me, Will."

As Nathaniel helped Will slowly out of the house, Will dwelt on the cold passion in Cavillex's words and wondered if it was already too late.

((CHAPTER 28

v

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00043.jpg-REPLACE_ME

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00009.jpg-REPLACE_ME n the cold, stone reception room at his sombre palace of El Escorial, Philip of Spain sat in silent contemplation of the heat of passion waiting for him in his private quarters. Increasingly, his daily life felt like a troubling distraction from the only thing he truly valued, at times almost an unpleasant dream. Yet every wave of desire was accompanied by an equal pang of self-loathing. Now Malantha had started to infect his prayers, looking down at him in the depths of his head where before there had only been God.

He had so much to concern him, not least the invasion of England, but he didn't have the strength or the urge to resist. Only Malantha mattered.

A knock at the door was followed by the arrival of the seventh duke of Medina Sidonia, Don Alonso Perez de Guzman el Bueno, a quiet, unassuming man with a greying beard, whose obsession with money had led to repeated claims of poverty despite his great wealth. It was his very retiring nature that had encouraged Philip to place him in charge of the Armada; among the many competing arrogant and cunning personalities in the Spanish nobility, Medina Sidonia had made the least enemies. His appointment-at Malantha's request, he had to admit-had offended no one and had cleared all obstacles among his own people to a successful invasion.

"How goes it?" Philip asked.

"Well. Our preparations are almost complete and we will be ready to sail by the end of April."

"Parma's forces are not as great as we once hoped, but he still has a good seventeen thousand men," Philip said, "comprising eight thousand Germans and Walloons, four thousand of our own men, three thousand Italians, one thousand Burgundians, and even a thousand English exiles, ready to heap disaster upon their own land. Parma has made plans to protect our flanks in Flanders, and he will be ready to lead his men onto English soil as soon as you have done your work."

"I have made arrangements for the blessing of the standard in Lisbon on the twenty-fifth of April, the Feast of Saint Mark the Evangelist," Medina Sidonia said. "Will you come to oversee the launch of this magnificent enterprise?"

Philip felt a sudden pang of panic. He could not leave El Escorial, and the secret pleasures it held, not even for a night. "My viceroy, the cardinal archduke, will represent me on that day."

Medina Sidonia was unhappy with this response, but he bowed and said, "As you wish.

My men would have taken some pleasure in seeing you, but they will understand there is much to do at this momentous time."

Philip gave a reassuring smile. "La Invencible is all you need. Once Elizabeth sees the mighty fleet you have amassed, she will surrender without a shot being fired."

Philip was eager to return to his private quarters and barely noticed the unease in Medina Sidonia's face. "There are many across Europe who question the wisdom of the coming battle,"

the duke began hesitantly. When Philip didn't respond unfavourably, he took strength and continued, "Our Catholic allies in the Vatican, and Venice, and Prague all fear an emboldened Spain. They believe we are too strong already."

"One can never be too strong."

"True, true," Medina Sidonia responded hastily. "However, I have heard word that Henri in France is afraid that he will be the next to be crushed. Once England is ours, we can starve the Dutch rebels into submission and then move on his country. And once Western Europe is ours, he says angrily to anyone who will listen, Spain will sweep away the Protestant rule in the German states, in Switzerland, and across Scandinavia."

"Henri is very wise." Philip smiled, but when he saw Medina Sidonia become more troubled he added, "We are strong, too strong for any of them to attempt to throw obstacles in our way, whatever their fears. Wherever we travel-here or in the New World-we see victory. We have a brilliant military commander in Parma with a great force, filled with fury. And the fleet you have amassed will tear through England's sad band of pirates and adventurers. There is no doubt here."

Medina Sidonia would not be deterred. Now the dam had broken, longheld anxieties were rushing out. "In thirty years, all our fortune and our might have not subdued the Netherlands.

How, then, can we hold England? Even if we take London and remove Elizabeth's head from her shoulders in revenge for what she did to Mary, the rest of that damned country is near lawless.

We could be fighting in the North, and the Fens, and Wales, and Cornwall forever." He caught himself, afraid he had overstepped the boundary. "And there is the prophecy of Cyprianus Leovitius," he added quietly.

Philip sighed. "A prophecy that is in our favour."

"Based on the numerology hidden in the Revelation of Saint John-"

"It speaks of the year of wonders. The beginning of the final cycle. Upheavals for all. The end of empires. The end of England."

Medina Sidonia was not convinced. "Some say-"

"I say!" Philip shouted. "The end of England! Do not question me!" Steadying himself, he studied the weakness in Medina Sidonia's face before trying to bolster his commander. "God is on our side. He will not allow us to be defeated. There is much you do not know, much that must be kept secret from you if our plans are to succeed. We have a secret ally, and a weapon of great power that will be at your disposal. England will fall, and such destruction will be wreaked on that country and its people that there will be no doubt to whom the prophecy refers."

Curtly, he waved his hand to dismiss Medina Sidonia, and then hurried from the reception room as quickly as his gout-ridden feet would carry him. By the time he reached his quarters he had already forgotten the duke, the Armada, and the invasion.

Malantha waited for him, naked, sprawled on the divan, so brazen in her sexuality that he could barely look at her, yet could not look away. As much as he desired her, he was unsettled by the way she watched him; and sometimes, when she fell into the corner of his vision, he was convinced he saw something white and cold and predatory, not Malantha at all.

"I have good news," she said, without warmth. "I have spoken with my brother Cavillex, and our plans proceed accordingly. Don Alanzo brings the Silver Skull to Spain." A brief narrowing of her eyes was replaced by a seductive smile. "As you acquiesced to his request."

"He deserves that at least for all his sacrifices."