was tied round a hook in the wall.
'They're bright-eyes, Da. They use 'em in the digs sometimes instead of candles and lanterns,' he explained. 'Cos they don't have any flames that could set off the black powder.'
The black powder was used for blasting through rock in major digs such as this one. It was dangerous work, made worse by the unpredictable explosives. Two men had died building this very tunnel.
'Well now, that's just the thing we need, so.' Shay grinned. 'Here, hand us a lead there, Francie, and we'll take one with us. You go back and keep a lookout like I told you, there's a good lad.'
Disappointed that he wasn't going to get to see the treasury, Francie untied one of the leads from the wall and passed it to his father. Shay took it and waved to Jimmy, heading off up the side tunnel with the bright-eye leading the way. It skittered along on four spiderlike legs protruding from a small but heavy body, mewing happily and eager for some exercise.
Francie undid the second engimals leash and led it back to the mouth of the tunnel. He figured they could keep each other company. There was a bench near the entrance and he sat down for a minute or two. But he couldn't relax so he stood back up again. The bright-eye was restless too. It flashed its light on and off at him. He sniggered and did a little jig in front of it. The engimal tried to imitate the steps, dancing delicately on its spindly legs. Francie laughed, adding some more steps. Again the bright-eye copied the moves.
They danced around each other, the boy leading and the engimal following, dancing to imagined music. That was how the three remaining members of Shay's gang found them when they drove up with the horse and dray. Staring down from the flat-bedded cart, the men's faces wore expressions of disgust.
'This is our lookout, is it?' Padraig sneered, tying the horse to one of the rails. 'We'll be right as rain so.'
Francie blushed from his ears to his collar and pulled the engimal's lead up short.
'Less dancin' an' more lookin' an' listenin', yeh little git,' Spud grunted at him. 'Or yeh'll feel the back of my hand across yer head.'
Feeling deeply ashamed, Francie sat down on the bench and kept his eyes on the ground as Padraig led the horse past him. The other men grabbed a wheelbarrow each and followed the cart into the tunnel. They were right, of course; he was supposed to be keeping watch, and instead there he was dancing around like a ninny. Well, that was enough of that. He kept his eyes out on the yard beyond the tunnel and listened carefully for any sounds of approach.
But it was boring. He struggled to keep his attention from wandering, to keep from drifting into a daydream. His gaze passed over one of the trestle tables used for laying out plans, and fell on a large roll of paper. He strolled over to take a peek. Unrolling it, he saw it was a copy of the plan he had stolen the week before, showing the lowest level of the tower section of Wildenstern Hall. The railway tunnel was here, leading into what was to be the underground station. Along its left side was the access tunnel that O'Keefe and his men had been working in over the last few days. To the right of this tunnel was the treasury. Shay and his men would be using black powder to blast through the dividing wall. It was so far underground, the people in the funeral procession above wouldn't hear a thing.
Then they would load the wheelbarrows and fill the cart. If they played their cards right, they could all be rich men overnight.
Francie was smiling nervously to himself just thinking about it. No more polishing buckles or cleaning the manure out of the stalls. No more sleeping in that poky, damp, draughty, smelly attic. And good riddance to it all. His eyes followed the line of the tunnel to the treasure room. He frowned.
The word 'Treasury' had been crossed out on this plan. Underneath it, in a scrawling handwriting, were the words 'Powder Store'. Francie stared down at these words until the world around them seemed to fade into a haze. All he could see were those words: 'Powder Store'. He could hear his pulse in his ears. His breath caught in his chest… and then he started running.
Tearing up the tunnel as fast as his legs could carry him, he screamed to his father.
'Da! No! It's not the treasure! It's not the treasure!'
A figure appeared in the gloom ahead of him.
'What is it, Francie?' Shay called, hurrying towards him. 'Keep your voice down, for the love of God! What's wrong?'
'It's not a treasure room, Da!' Francie panted desperately. 'It's the p-'
Then an invisible brick wall slammed into them and they were hurled towards the mouth of the tunnel in an exploding cloud of dust and shattered masonry.
XI
'Eunice, you mustn't create a fuss.' Gideon was pleading with his wife. 'It would be a breach of tradition for you to go to the mausoleum. Women don't attend the interment.'
'I don't care if it's not tradition!' Eunice hissed. 'I want to see him buried!
Tatiana piped up in a petulant voice:
'If she's going, I'm going. I want to see him buried too. I don't see why women aren't allowed. Why shouldn't we be?'
She looked for support from Daisy, who closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for strength. Women did not accompany the coffin to the grave; it just wasn't the done thing. And though it was just one of the many injustices heaped upon women in this day and age, this wasn't the time or place to have the argument. She was painfully aware of the massive crowd watching curiously from the sidelines. All around her, men were staring impatiently, outraged at this act of female rebellion.
'Perhaps we could just see Marcus's remains taken as far as the mausoleum, Uncle Gideon,' she said sweetly. 'And then we can retire and leave the men to the interment.'
'What a load of rot!' Eunice declared. 'I'm watching the whole thing. Are you with us or not, Melancholy?'
Daisy bridled at the use of the name she hated so much. Edgar was standing off to one side in a posture that said he would take no part in this disgraceful discussion. That left Roberto as the next most senior man in the family. She hesitated, then turned on her husband, who was observing her with an expression of reluctant amusement.
'Roberto, we'd like to attend the interment.'
'My darling-'
'Yes, dear?' She arched an eyebrow at him.
Berto did not want any friction with the family today, but he already knew the hell she could put him through if she did not get her way. He glanced again at that eyebrow, cloaked behind the gauzy veil – it rose another fraction of an inch. But it was the look on the face of his father that decided him.
'Perhaps we could break with tradition this once,' he said in a loud voice, glaring defiantly at Edgar. 'I think everyone should have the chance to say goodbye to Marcus.'
Gideon wore an expression of disgust, Eunice one of triumph. Nathaniel was standing back with Gerald, both of them suppressing mocking grins. As the coffin continued on its way, Daisy spotted a man at the edge of the crowd pressing his thumb to the top of his head. But then his wife slapped the back of his neck and he sheepishly cut short the gesture.
In the end, as the men bristled with indignation, over a dozen women followed the casket into the cemetery. All the family's recent Patriarchs were interred in a huge, gothic marble mausoleum at the top end of the cemetery, near the church. Further down, the Heirs who had died before reaching the position were placed in another mausoleum; not quite as grand but mightily impressive nonetheless. The great iron door stood open. Above the columns framing the entrance, an eight-foot, white marble angel raised the tips of his wings straight up towards heaven.
