Launceston must have seen it too, for he grabbed one of the torches and held it over the still form. The old soldier all but glowed, like some apparition.
Carpenter took an unconscious step back. The dead man was rimed with frost, his hair and beard white, his skin gleaming with ice crystals as though he had spent a night out in a Muscovy winter. ‘What is this?’ the spy exclaimed. An autumnal chill hung in the air, but nothing that could account for such a state.
Launceston squatted beside the soldier, moving the torch around so he could examine the frozen face for some clue as to what had occurred.
A murmur washed around the huddling watermen as if a dam had broken. One blamed the devil, another the Fair Folk, a third some curse or other.
The Earl withdrew his dagger and jabbed the point against the man’s cheek. A
The watermen cried out as one and fled back along the river’s edge towards their boats.
‘Zounds! What evil is this?’ Carpenter gasped.
‘I fear it is the beginning of something,’ Launceston breathed, rising to his feet. He waved the torch over the glistening remains one final time and then turned to the water. ‘Of what, I am not entirely sure.’
‘Would the Unseelie Court attack a starving soldier fishing for his supper? There must be some other answer.’
‘If you leave this work, if you flee into a new life, I will come with you,’ the Earl murmured in a distracted tone. Gripped by the sight of the shattered body, Carpenter barely realized what his companion had said before the Earl added, ‘In this mystery lies the key to what we will face in the days ahead, if we can only divine it.’
‘And if we cannot?’ Carpenter asked.
‘Then winter comes early for all of us.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CANDLES SUMMONED GLITTERING Jewels from the Stained glass window above the altar. The Lady’s Chapel in the Palace of Whitehall had heard the whispered devotions of monarchs, lords and ladies, but this night it was Strangewayes’ low voice that rustled up into the shadows. Head bowed, he knelt on the cold flags, hollowed by too much doubt and fear.
‘Dear Father, hear my prayers,’ he entreated, his pressed palms shaking. ‘Deliver us from the evil that draws nearer by the day.’
The only answer did not come from God. ‘Tobias?’ His name echoed from the dark at the back of the chapel.
The young spy stumbled to his feet, running one trembling hand through his auburn hair. ‘Who goes?’ he snarled, shock adding a crack to his voice.
A hooded figure stepped into the candle glow. His heart leapt when he saw that it was Grace, wrapped in a thick woollen cloak against the growing chill. She folded back the cowl and forced a weak smile. ‘Come back to the fire. You have been here in the cold for too long.’
‘Soon,’ he said. ‘I find some peace here in the midst of all this turmoil. And if God hears my pleas, then we have hope in the struggle that is to come.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘We have defeated the Spanish before. Surely we can again.’
Strangewayes felt a pang of regret that he had to lie to her. It seemed a betrayal of the love they shared. And yet how could he not deceive her, when her sanity, perhaps even her life, was at stake? Swyfte had warned him time and again how many others had been driven mad by knowledge of the Unseelie Court. ‘You are the voice of reason, Grace. I worry for naught, I am sure,’ he replied, putting on a confident smile. ‘It is in my nature to grow anxious before a battle.’
‘Then you must listen to Will,’ she said with a warmer smile. ‘He is always as calm as a millpond.’
The spy flinched, but he nodded politely. ‘’Tis good advice. I will be along once I have finished my devotions.’
Her face darkened. ‘We have only been close for a matter of weeks, Tobias. I miss your gentle words, and I would enjoy your company before the Queen’s business calls you away once more.’
Once she had left, his heart grew heavier. All his sacrifices were for her alone. He would do anything to keep her safe in the face of the supernatural threat that circled all their lives. After a moment, more footsteps disturbed his thoughts and he was surprised to see Sir Robert Cecil emerge from the gloom. The spymaster gave a faint nod of greeting. Tobias, as always, found his master’s eyes unreadable.
‘Sirrah, I must apologize,’ Cecil said. ‘It was only my intention to pray awhile here. Like you, I am a godly man. I could not help but overhear your exchange with your woman.’
‘Grace and I have nothing to hide.’
‘I would think not.’ Cecil knelt before the altar and made the sign of the cross upon his chest. ‘Pray with me,’ he said, beckoning the other man to join him.
Strangewayes knelt, his uneasiness in his master’s presence giving way to the churn of his own troubles.
‘You have been a loyal and trusted servant since you joined my band, sirrah,’ Cecil said, his head bowed. ‘That has not gone unnoticed.’
‘I do whatever is required of me in service to the Queen.’
‘Of course, of course.’ The spymaster nodded. ‘And I would be remiss if I did not reward you for that service.’
‘A job well done is its own reward. That and the knowledge that I serve God.’
‘You would do well to accept this reward, Master Strangewayes, for it is only a small thing. A warning.’ He paused for one moment, allowing the weight to build. ‘I fear for the safety of Mistress Seldon.’
Tobias jerked his head towards the spymaster. ‘Grace? What are you saying?’
‘You must beware of Swyfte. He is always scheming to his own ends, and he cares little who gets hurt in the process.’
‘What do you know?’
Cecil closed his eyes, muttering a prayer.
After a moment, Strangewayes shook his head. ‘There is no love lost between Swyfte and me, but I cannot believe he would allow Grace to suffer unnecessarily. Indeed, he has protected her since her sister, Jenny, was lost.’
The spymaster shrugged. ‘If you are certain—’
‘You must tell me. If Grace is in peril, I will do whatever is necessary to protect her.’
A small smile flitted across Cecil’s lips, gone before Strangewayes could be sure he had seen it. ‘All I can say for now is that you must keep close watch on our friend, Master Swyfte,’ the older man repeated. ‘At this time of greatest threat he is at his most dangerous, and he will do aught to save his own neck. Even sacrificing those closest to him. Never let him out of your sight. Listen to his weasel words. Judge him. You do not have to accept my account. Trust your own heart. And if you feel he is about to betray us to save himself, you must be prepared to act in an instant, for to tarry for even a moment could cost us all dearly, including the life of your woman.’
Strangewayes bowed his head. A part of him had always feared that Swyfte could not be trusted. ‘What should I do?’ he whispered.
‘There is only one course. You must slay him before he drags us all down to Hell.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GREY MIST ROLLED across the river. The night-sounds of sleeping London whispered through the fog like the breath of a child at sleep: the calls of the beadles, the hoots of owls from the wooded shores, the splash of oars and creak of rigging. Along the quayside at Greenwich, pikemen in burgonets appeared to glide out of the folding cloud. Darting eyes searched for the foreign agents they had been told were preparing to attack. They glowered at the boys heaving cordwood to the beacons, hurling abuse to mask their fear. Beyond the circle of light cast by the
