‘Eradication, yes, if we have to. But for now we will be satisfied with containment.’ Fabian strode back across the chamber and stood before the spy, one hand resting on the hilt of his rapier. ‘I did not wish this path. I would celebrate you, not destroy you, and now I am forced to take actions that destroy me. But you brought it upon yourselves.’
Will imagined Marlowe overcome by the horrors he witnessed in this place, and fleeing back to England to inform Sir Francis Walsingham. And the spymaster, in his usual way, would have taken note, and reflected, and filed away, not realizing that the seeds of his own death had already been planted.
‘And so you set out to cover your tracks,’ the spy said, ‘until you were ready to act. As the sacrificial victims required to enable the removal of our defences, you chose the spies who would know that you had unlocked the secret of creating life here in Reims, and who might piece together your great scheme. Two birds, one stone. Walsingham murdered first, then Clement, Makepiece, Gavell and the rest. And I was placed on your list because I met Kit Marlowe on his return to England, and you could not risk that he had told me of his nightmarish experience here beneath the seminary.’
Fabian appeared truly sympathetic. ‘I would not have wished this pain upon you, but there it is. Now we have won. Our Scar-Crow Men are in position, with only your Queen yet to be replaced. One single death yet remains, and then all your defences will crumble. And our force waits in Paris, ready to sail to your shores once our own Queen has been freed from her imprisonment. Your time has passed. England is gone. The dawn of the Unseelie Court in your world now rises.’
Will ignored the Fay’s chilling words. Something had been troubling him, and now he thought he had it. ‘And yet I feel there is something missing from your words,’ he said. ‘Your decision to pursue our spies so ruthlessly tells me Kit Marlowe discovered more here than just the beginnings of your plot.’
Fabian nodded. ‘That is true. The discovery of the plot alone would not have been enough to stop us. But when your friend witnessed the creation of our Scar-Crow Men, he also saw the means by which we may destroy them.’
‘Because, if events turned sour, the soulless things could be a threat even to the great Unseelie Court.’
‘Every weapon cuts both ways.’
‘And what is this means of destruction?’ the spy pressed. ‘I would imagine ’twould need to be something that could extinguish the spark of life in your creations in one fell swoop, like the snuffing out of a candle flame. What would that be?’
Will waited for his captor to respond, but Fabian appeared distracted. With furrowed brow, the Fay half turned, cocking his head to one side as if listening to something beyond the reach of human hearing.
And then, echoing through the night-dark chambers, the spy heard the clamour of human voices drawing nearer.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
With his captors distracted by the cacophony of voices, Will rolled across the dusty stone flags to where he had seen his rapier and dagger tossed earlier. The spy felt around in the gloom until his fingers closed on cold steel. In the dim, ruddy light, he glimpsed three of the Fay turn towards him, drawing their own swords.
‘Put down your arms,’ Fabian demanded with a regretful note.
‘To relinquish them before I have used them would be a waste,’ Will responded.
Ferocious and fast, the three Fay moved like wolves, but the spy was ahead of them. With a heave of his leather shoe, he propelled the brazier forwards. Hot coals cascaded over the nearest foe. Piercing screams rang out, a column of flames lighting up the chamber. The air filled with the stink of seared flesh.
Shielding his eyes from the blinding light, Will darted out of the chamber. In the dense dark, he was lost in the disorienting din of the metallic booming and the nearing shouts. ‘Grace!’ he yelled. He just caught his friend’s shrill response under the clamour.
The spy found Grace pressed against a wall, her eyes burning with determination. Her Fay guard waited in front of her, rapier already drawn, eyes narrowed. When the supernatural being lunged, Grace hurled herself on to his back with a cry, tearing at his face with her nails. Seizing his moment, Will thrust his blade into his reeling foe’s heart. As the pale figure fell, Grace leapt free and rushed to her saviour’s side.
The spy was surprised to see such fierce emotion in her usually placid face. ‘Why, Grace,’ he said, ‘I will need you by my side in the next Bankside brawl.’
‘I have been battered and beaten and questioned and imprisoned and I have had my fill!’ she snapped. ‘Now get me out of here, Will, or so help me I will turn my fury ’pon you.’ Despite her resolve, the spy saw tears of fear flecking the corners of her eyes. Her trial had taken its toll on her.
Grabbing her hand, Will ran through the chambers towards the clamour. Not far from the stone steps leading down from the seminary, he confronted a mob of about twenty black-robed priests, their faces etched with terror. One near the front held a torch, others grasped golden crosses taken from the chambers of the senior priests. Their wide eyes searched the dark as they shouted encouragement to each other. Some muttered prayers. The spy saw Mathias at the centre of the crowd, Hugh on the edge, trembling with fear.
‘You wish to scar my conscience before you claim my soul, is that it, devil?’ Will hissed to the invisible Mephistophilis. ‘You have drawn these men to their slaughter.’
‘Who do you speak to?’ Grace asked.
The spy ignored her. A throaty chuckle crackled in his ear.
Distracted by their search for demons, the priests paid no heed to the two new arrivals. Will grabbed Hugh and pulled him aside. ‘You must leave this place, now,’ he urged.
‘Francis? Is it true, then? You brought the Devil into our midst?’
‘More than devils lurk down here. The evil loose in the seminary has brought you to your deaths.
Seven of the Unseelie Court emerged from the dark at the far end of the chamber, rapiers drawn. With their grim, pallid faces and silvery-mildewed clothes, they looked like ghosts. The priests recoiled immediately.
A shadow crossed Grace’s face. ‘What are they? Since I was taken in Nonsuch, my days have passed like a dream from the potion I was given. I thought my captors were Spanish agents, but now-’
‘Later, Grace,’ Will snapped, drawing her attention from the supernatural figures. He would need to talk with her, but only when they were away from that place. He shook Hugh forcefully. ‘You must compel your companions to flee. Those creatures will fall upon you like wolves,’ he barked.
The young priest finally understood. Running back to the other men, he raised the alarm. Hauling Grace behind him, Will led the race back to the stone steps. Glancing back, he saw the gout-ridden Mathias had fallen behind, as had three of the elderly priests. Mouth torn wide, the lumbering father looked behind him, knowing what was coming. Out of the gloom swept the Unseelie Court, impassive, brutal. Their swords carved through the straggling priests with such ferocity the victims had no time to cry out. In a cascade of blood, Mathias went down. His killer barely paused.
Thrusting Grace up the steps with a promise that he would join her, Will waited, urging the remaining men behind the woman. With his rapier levelled in his right hand, he snatched the torch from the final passing priest and backed on to the steps.
Sensing the threat ahead, the Fay swordsmen slowed when they saw him. Waving the sizzling torch in front of him, Will edged up one step at a time. There was no room for more than one of his foes to strike at him.
As the spy crept upwards, the nearest opponent lunged. Parrying the thrust easily from his higher position, the spy jabbed the torch into his foe’s face. The Fay screamed, clutching at his ruined face as he tumbled backwards on to his companions. Turning heel, Will raced up the steps.
When he reached the long tunnel, he could see the priests had left open the alabaster statue of the Virgin and Child. The bodies of six men littered the stone floor, victims of the Unseelie Court’s traps. Avoiding the swinging blades, Will plunged out into the seminary and swung the statue shut behind him.
