and music plain, of England now and England then, when knights in silver were compelled to brave the perils of the night.’ The player boomed his speech with a flamboyant sweep of his right arm. His mask was plain white save for two eyeholes topped with a mane of peacock feathers, his cloak, doublet and hose all crimson. Prowling in front of the painted backdrop of a moonlit grove, he levelled one pointed finger at the audience with an air of menace. ‘See now two faces, and two worlds, and ponder which is true. Sun or moon, or man or maid, the mirror or its reflection. For hidden in these paltry words lies the secret of your existence.’
Will stepped into the back of the Great Hall at Nonsuch Palace as the player’s introductory words died away. His hood pulled up to preserve a sense of mystery, he wore a full-face black mask with gold around the eyeholes and the grinning mouth. He kept one hand upon his rapier but the audience paid him no heed, entranced by the first haunting chords of the music played on viol, hautboy and spinet.
The spy had been informed that the Earl of Essex had funded this lavish masque, but it had been left to the poet Sir Edmund Spenser to devise its themes and story. He had named his work
Yet he could not deny that Sir Edmund had created the most breathtaking masque that any royal palace had ever seen. The painted scenery, which stretched from floor to high in the shadows of the vaulted roof, covered every wall of the Great Hall so that each member of the court felt part of the unfolding spectacle. The silvery moonlight limning the ancient oaks of the greenwood and the starry sky sweeping like blue velvet above was so delicately painted that it created the illusion that the entire masque was taking place outdoors. Adding to that perception, there were trees standing throughout the hall, with wooden trunks and branches and paper leaves.
Looking around, Will guessed all the members of the court and royal household were there, everyone wearing a mask that they had laboured over for days, adding pointed noses or painting them with humorous or frightening visages. So colourful were their fine cloaks, doublets, skirts and bodices that in the candlelight the hall appeared to shimmer as if filled with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, opals and amethyst.
The Queen watched the proceedings from her throne, a large ruff of white and silver framing her powdered face, her skirts and bodice ivory so that she resembled one of the snow-people the children made on Cheapside. Will thought how ill she looked, her eyes heavy-lidded, her head drooping down into her shoulders. He saw none of the vivacity that she had always displayed in public.
After a few moments, the spy was joined by Meg, Launceston, Carpenter and Strangewayes, all wearing the masks that Grace had prepared for them. They had changed in Will’s old chamber after Grace had distracted the guards so they could slip through the palace gates.
‘How many here are Scar-Crow Men, their masks hiding yet further masks behind which is nothing but death?’ the spy mused. ‘Their plot is in its final hours. They will be alert to any threat, and so we must be on our guard.’
‘Then let us not delay,’ Meg murmured. Shaped to resemble the face of a doll, her mask was scarlet, as were her hood and cloak and skirts so that she resembled a pool of blood, a threat and a promise.
A shorter man sidled up, unruly brown hair topping a mask that had been so quickly and crudely completed it was impossible to tell if it was the face of a cat or a dog. ‘Will? ’Tis you?’
‘Nat, you would recognize me if I were disguised as a tree in a forest.’ The spy felt a surge of warmth at seeing his young assistant again.
‘Perhaps it is the whiff of recklessness that I smell.’ The younger man paused and then added less caustically, ‘It is good to see you, Will. When you survive such odds, even I may start to believe you truly are England’s greatest spy.’
‘Steady, Nat. That came dangerously close to a compliment. But enough pleasantries. I have work for you — to keep Grace safe and away from any trouble that may ensue.’ Will phrased his words blandly, but behind them was a deep worry that Nathaniel and Grace might encounter the Unseelie Court. He had seen the wits of strong men shattered by meeting the supernatural foe. Though his memory had created a callus, Nat still bore the scars deep inside him of his own brush with the Fay, the spy knew, and those deadened thoughts must never be stirred into life. Grace was a different case. After her experiences under the Reims seminary, she appeared more resilient, although the spy was sure Fabian had shielded her from much of the Unseelie Court’s malign influence. Will could not bear to think of harm coming to either of them.
‘That is like herding cats,’ Nathaniel grumbled, ‘but there is a more pressing matter.’ He leaned in and whispered urgently, ‘I have spent these past hours deciphering Kit Marlowe’s hidden message in his work, as you showed me. You must read it now.’
‘Well done, Nat,’ the spy exclaimed. ‘You have done me proud. Hurry to your chamber. I will meet you there.’
Will could imagine Nathaniel grinning with pride behind his mask. But before the young assistant left, Launceston lunged forward to grab his wrist. The Earl, his ghastly features hidden behind a placid yellow mask with a black stripe down the centre, turned over the hand of the younger man and studied the palm and fingers.
‘What is it, Robert?’ Will asked.
‘A notion,’ the Earl muttered. ‘I must think.’
Unsettled, Nathaniel dragged his hand free and hurried away. Carpenter, who wore a sapphire mask with black circles around the eyes, gave a questioning glance at his companion. Launceston ignored the gaze.
‘We all have a part to play here,’ Will said, looking around the group. ‘John, Robert … you have been diligent in your pursuit of the one who murders our associates. I believe he will be here, somewhere, searching for his final victim. Do what you can to find him, but take care lest you become the sacrificial lamb that brings England’s defences down.’
Nodding, the Earl and the scar-faced man melted into the audience.
The black-masked spy leaned into Meg and Strangewayes and whispered, ‘Should we fail in our tasks here, the Unseelie Court will sweep in like a storm. There will be hell upon this earth in the blink of an eye. We must be prepared to fight to the last.’
‘I am ready,’ Tobias muttered. ‘If I die this day, so be it. No great loss.’ His mask was a deep forest green with gold tracings of leaves all over it.
‘You have suffered a blow, my friend,’ Will said. ‘You have been offered a perspective on life that no man should have if he wishes to sleep peacefully again. But I can see you have a resilience that matches your arrogance, and so is great indeed. These feelings will pass and you will be strong again.’
Strangewayes seemed surprisingly touched by these words.
‘Our job is to find the Corpus-Scythe that will destroy the Scar-Crow Men. It will be in the hands of our hated Enemy, and I feel that at this late stage in their plot they will be closer than we dare imagine,’ Will continued. ‘While the last of the defences still hold by a thread, they will not be able to walk freely among us, or draw near to our Queen. Yet they have found a nest somewhere at hand where they make ready. It is my hope that Kit Marlowe’s cipher may guide us to it.’
The haunting music of the introductory passage transformed into an exuberant swirl of fiddle and pipe. Laughing, excited, the audience lined up along both sides of the Great Hall, dividing into couples ready to dance the pavane.
‘We will begin our search,’ Meg said to Will, holding out her hand for the spy to kiss. With her emotions hidden behind her red mask, the spy found the nod of her head enigmatic. ‘Come, Master Strangewayes,’ she said, waving one finger at the emerald-masked man. ‘You have the look of the Irish about you. Let us see if you have the heart.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Bounding up the echoing stone steps towards Nathaniel’s chamber, Will drew to a sharp halt at the first window. Sparks of red and gold light glimmered through the diamond panes. The spy felt uneasy as he undid the latch and threw the window open to the warm, fragrant evening.
Barely a sliver of red sun lit the horizon and the shadows now reached across the still hunting grounds which surrounded Nonsuch Palace. In the black line of trees beyond the grassland, bursts of fire came and went. No longer cowed by England’s fierce resistance, the Unseelie Court waited. Leaning out, Will followed the trail of flickering
