CHAPTER 56
arpenter and Launceston sprinted along the echoing corridors of the upper floors as they wound their way towards the queen's rooms. From the windows, they watched the Unseelie Court dispatching guards with brutal efficiency, peering into rooms, darting through doorways, moving steadily towards the royal residence.
'Hold,' Launceston insisted as they crept along the Blue Gallery. He called Carpenter back to a view over the lawns and paths that lay in front of their destination where Grace was pointing to the queen's chambers. Her head was bowed slightly, a dreamy smile on her lips. Beside her, Mayhew stood with his hood removed so that the Skull gleamed brightly in the moonlight.
'She is entranced,' Carpenter said. 'She cannot help herself.'
'Still, she guides them-she knows the palace better than Mayhew. If the opportunity arises, she may need to be removed from the game.'
'Save your bloodlust for Mayhew, Robert. That damned traitor deserves to be carved like a side of beef.' Carpenter glared at the Silver Skull for a moment, all his secret loathing now directed towards his former ally.
No guards waited at the queen's door, and there were no bodies. The door itself was slightly ajar.
Fearing the worst, Carpenter pushed it open, his sword drawn. The windowless antechamber was dark and empty. They waited a second until their eyes adjusted to the gloom and then entered, but no sound came from the bedroom beyond. At the doorway, they hesitated, fearing the consequences of breaking into the queen's chamber at night, despite the seriousness of the occasion. Finally, Launceston grabbed the handle and flung the door open.
A flickering candle on a side table illuminated another empty room. Carpenter and Launceston exchanged an uneasy glance when they saw the bedclothes had been torn back roughly.
'We are too late,' Carpenter said. 'They have her.'
Acting as if he had not heard, Launceston stood deep in reflection.
'The Unseelie Court is on its way! We must leave or they will trap us here!' Carpenter insisted.
'If the Enemy had already arrived, the guards would be dead at the door,' Launceston mused. 'No, they left to investigate the attack. Perhaps they were directed by ... someone.'
'Then where is the queen?' Anxiously, Carpenter glanced back towards the antechamber, already imagining Enemy footsteps drawing nearer.
Launceston turned slowly, and then allowed his attention to focus on the candle. Its flame bent in a draft, although the windows were shut and heavy drapes drawn across them. Striding quickly to the candle, he followed the direction of the draft to the oaken panelling marked with the queen's initials. Along one edge was a dark vertical line. With his fingertips, Launceston eased open a hidden door.
'A secret passageway,' he said. 'Not sealed tight amid a hasty exit.'
'Enough talk.' Carpenter thrust Launceston into the passage and closed the door behind them with a soft click.
The passage was dry and dusty. Rats scurried ahead of them. They continued in the dark for a little way, wishing they had brought the candle with them, until a soft glow appeared ahead. Swords raised, they edged forwards slowly.
From the dark, a figure clattered a sword against Launceston's weapon. The fight was brief and the attacker driven back, until the half-light washed over them.
'Marlowe!' Carpenter exclaimed.
Relief flooded Marlowe's face and he lowered his sword. 'Thank all the powers there are,' he breathed. 'I am more dangerous with a quill than a sword. I thought this was the end of me.'
He led them along the passageway to a series of windowless rooms. In the first, Nathaniel waited with Walsingham and Dee, their faces drawn. Through the half-open door to the adjoining room, they could just make out the queen, seated on a chair, her head bowed, her face as white as Launceston's in the gloom. Without her red wig to cover her grey stubble she was a picture of age and impotence far removed from the regal figure they had all seen in public.
'She would not have you see her like this,' Walsingham said quietly. He closed the door a little more, but there was only one light and he did not want to plunge her into darkness.
'Is it as bad as we fear?' Dee asked.
'Worse. The Enemy has the run of the palace,' Carpenter replied.
Walsingham hung his head dismally. After a moment, he said, 'The queen would already be lost if Master Marlowe and Master Colt had not raised the alarm. There is still hope-'
He was interrupted by a loud crash echoing from the queen's bedchamber, followed by more as the furniture was thrown roughly around.
'Trapped,' Launceston said. 'How long before they find the passage?'
CHAPTER 57
crambling out of the window, Will pulled himself up onto the roof. The lichen- crusted tiles threatened to crumble beneath his boots and pitch him to the courtyard far below. The door to the Lantern Tower hung open, and though Cavillex had ventured inside, Will knew it was the place Dee mysteriously treasured most and he would have installed a series of doors and defences.
The tower was one of the newest constructions within the palace complex, erected rapidly not long after the beginning of Elizabeth's reign by her decree and under Dee's strict design. Around the top of the tower, beneath the conical tiled roof topped by a weather vane, ran decorative battlements to give the tower gravitas. Will hoped the stone was secure enough to take his weight.
A golden dawn dispelled the gloom that would have made his task impossible. Weighing the grapnel he had recovered from the store of unwanted ships' items in which he had hidden, he steeled himself, and then whirled it around his head before loosing it. His first attempt didn't even reach the tower. The second time the grapnel bounced off the stone wall with a resounding clang that he feared might draw attention. The third attempt failed too, and the fourth. A quarter of the way up the tower, the globe's ruddy glare was visible through one of the windows.
On the fifth occasion, the grapnel caught on the battlements, slipped a little, and then held tight. Wrapping the oily rope around his wrists, he put all doubts out of his mind and launched himself off the roof.
The battlement held. Bracing against the impact, he steadied himself and began to climb rapidly. One floor below the top, he swung in an arc to crash through one of the arch-shaped windows. Jagged glass tore the skin on his hands and arms, and he tumbled into a bone-numbing landing on the stone steps. Scrambling to his feet, he drew his sword. Above him, the way was barred by a heavy oak door marked with a series of Dee's sigils. From beneath it, the familiar green light gently pulsed.
The stairs spiralled down to another floor, and from somewhere below that he could hear the sound of Cavillex talking in a language he didn't recognise. As he prepared to descend, an odd feeling convulsed him: his thoughts twisted like the eels they hauled from the muddy waters of the Thames, and his stomach knotted and heaved. Blood dripped from his nose.
Cavillex, he thought. But the notion did not seem correct.
Before he could consider what it meant, a door crashed open below. Bounding down the steps, he found
