level, then pointed it directly at Jack. There was a loud
He immediately clambered over the wall and down the ladder to the lower roof, following the others. He could see that they had already made it down to the street and from below Angus waved him towards a heavy drainpipe. Jack scraped and slipped down the wall, using the drainpipe for support until he finally reached the street. He felt as if his head was going to burst.
“Can’t stay here,” he panted, waving up towards the roofline. “We’ve got trouble. Those men from Marlowe’s rooms are following us. I’ve no idea what’s going on but he must have put them onto us — no idea why. They’ve got crossbows; one of them took a shot at me.”
“Who are they… what do they want?” Fanshawe whimpered.
“They’re trouble, Harry, just like your ‘friend’ Marlowe. He’s got us deep into something and I don’t want to stay to find out what,” Trinculo said.
“Let’s go towards the town centre… probably safest if we can find a crowd,” Jack said.
Just then, the air above them hissed and a second crossbow bolt embedded itself in the side of a wooden cart that was parked against the college wall.
“Hang around and we are going to get killed.”
Turning from the side street, they raced back past the entrance to Corpus Christi and towards the great towers of King’s College Chapel, which loomed into view on their left. There seemed to be quite a gathering of people at the college gate and they could hear the choir singing in the chapel beyond.
Jack spotted their chance. “Mix in with these people going to the chapel… must be a service or something…”
Joining the crowd, they slowed to a brisk walk, so as not to stand out. Soon they were through the gatehouse and walking across the quad towards the entrance of the vast, gothic chapel. Their path was illuminated by burning lanterns either side of them. Jack looked back. It was difficult to see clearly as there was a queue of people… but then, coming out of the gatehouse, about thirty paces behind them, he was sure he recognised the shapes of their two pursuers. Jack felt a burning urge to break and sprint away from the crowd, which slowed as it approached the chapel. He knew if he did, the men would be onto them immediately. The chapel was now right in front of them, soaring into the night sky like some vast container ship. There was safety in the queue of people as they inched their way forward, agonisingly slowly.
At last, they were inside. The great chapel was only lit by the gentle flicker of candles, but even by this light Jack could see that the building was magnificent — a huge rectangular cavern with clifflike walls and windows soaring up to a spectacular fan-vaulted ceiling way, way above.
Angus elbowed him in the ribs. “Wake up — what now?”
People were milling about and gradually taking seats for the service. They had minutes at most before their pursuers followed them inside the chapel.
“What about over there?” Angus whispered. He pointed to a small wooden door set into the wall in a corner of the chapel.
“Worth a go. But don’t get noticed.”
They moved quietly over to the door, aided by the shadows inside the chapel. While the others formed a screen, Jack tried the handle.
“It’s open!”
Jack eased the door ajar and, checking that no one was watching, they each slipped into what seemed to be a large, dark cupboard. Except it couldn’t be a cupboard, because grey moonlight glimmered through a narrow slit window above them.
“What is this place?”Angus whispered.
“It’s the bottom of one of the chapel turrets — look, there are stairs,” Fanshawe replied.
“Do you think anyone saw us?”
“I don’t know, it was pretty dark in there, but we don’t want to risk it. Let’s go.”
Jack started to climb the narrow spiral staircase. After a few minutes they reached a second wooden door that opened onto the massive roof of the chapel. The turret was one of two at the west end of the chapel that looked out over the River Cam. On the opposite side of the roof soared the taller twin turrets built into each corner of the east end of the chapel. They stood in silence in the doorway at the top of the spiral staircase, straining to hear any sound from below.
“Hear anything?”
The choir had stopped singing and the congregation below were still, awaiting the start of the service. Suddenly, they heard a scrape of ghostly footsteps echoing up the staircase towards them.
“They’re coming — we’ve had it,” Angus whispered, panic in his voice. “We can’t go back down there and there’s no way off this roof.”
Jack smacked his forehead in a moment of inspiration. “The other turrets. They must have staircases too! We could go back down one of those.”
Angus smiled. “Nice one.”
The four of them dashed across the roof towards the turrets on the east side. Angus rattled the door handle of the north-east tower.
“It’s locked!”
“So try that one.” Jack pointed at the south-east turret and they clambered up over the crest of the roof and down towards it. It was a cold night, but Jack’s palms were sticky with sweat. He turned the handle of the door in the south-east turret.
“Locked too. We’re stuffed.”
“Those guys will be up on the roof in no time. We’re trapped…” Angus said between his teeth.
“And I don’t want a crossbow bolt in my head,” Fanshawe said, trembling.
“Unless…” Angus craned up at the massive octagonal turret that towered above them, tapering into the darkness of the night sky.
“No way…” Jack said.
“We don’t have a choice — I don’t want to be around when those guys get here. It looks easy enough — all those vent holes and gargoyles or whatever they are. We don’t need to go all the way up, just to that parapet thing in the shadows so they can’t see us…”
Jack took a deep breath and turned to Trinculo and Fanshawe. “We have no choice. The crest of the roof will give us some cover for a few minutes as we climb.”
“But…”
Jack was frightened, but he felt himself getting angry. “Get a grip, Harry, or we’re all dead. Do exactly what Angus does… and don’t look down.”
Angus stepped off the roof balustrade and onto a sloping slab of stone a few feet up the turret.
“It’s not bad, the stone is easy to grip,” he whispered down.
Fanshawe, Trinculo and then Jack started to follow Angus up the outside of the turret, placing hands, feet and even their whole bodies in exactly the positions that Angus showed them. They were pumped up with adrenaline and progress was surprisingly quick. After a few feet, Angus came to his first obstacle — a large stone overhang. By stretching his hand across the overhang he located a cloverleaf-shaped air hole, which give him just enough purchase to lever himself up and over. He rapidly ascended the next section and arrived at a further overhang at the bottom of the parapet. Repeating the manoeuvre, he suddenly found himself inside the stone parapet — a sort of decorative crown a good fifteen metres above roof level. From here, he was able to lean over and help first Fanshawe, then Trinculo and finally Jack up and into the parapet.
They made it just in time. Looking across the roof from their position perched up in the shadows, they saw two figures emerge from the darkness.
“Keep down!” Jack whispered.
They crouched behind the low crenellated wall of the parapet. Fanshawe was exhausted. He plonked his bottom onto a narrow part of the parapet. Jack wished he hadn’t. There was a loud squawking as a fat pigeon made a brave bid for freedom from Fanshawe’s descending buttocks. But Fanshawe was unable to control his downward
