Jack of Ravens

4

In the Piazza San Marco two men met on the edge of the revels away from the torchlight. One wore a hawk mask, the other a fish. They looked around uneasily until the Harlequin hurried up.

‘We thought Philip’s men had got to you,’ the Hawk said.

‘More like the king’s women,’ the Fish added irritably. ‘Did some doxy take your fancy?’

‘A spot of bother,’ the Harlequin replied. ‘Nothing to worry you, Mr Fish. Let us make haste. The king’s agents are everywhere.’

The three men made their way to the Palazzo Ducale, whose grand facade stood next to the Basilica, the sacred and the profane cheek by jowl. The Palazzo was the residence of the doge, the city’s leader, but also contained many other institutions of the Republic’s government.

‘This way,’ the Hawk whispered. ‘The door is unguarded.’

‘While you were making love, we were doing the job the queen has charged us with,’ the Fish said tartly.

The Harlequin led the way to the door. ‘Good Queen Bess has charged us with succeeding, not talking. And if there was gold for chat, Mr Fish, you would be the richest of us all.’

The Harlequin and the Fish formed a barrier while the Hawk dropped to his knees to work the lock.

‘Remember,’ the Harlequin whispered, ‘the avogaria, the law offices, are on the first floor, along with the chancellery, the censors and the Proweditori della Milizia del Mar. They will be unoccupied. The ballot chamber where the committee meets to elect the doge and the doge’s apartments are on the second floor. That is where we must go.’

‘Hurry now,’ the Fish said.

The Hawk tutted. ‘Genius cannot be rushed. What do you say, Will? An unguarded door at a grand palace? Are the Venetians or the Spaniards the true buffoons?’

‘Never underestimate the enemy, Mr Hawk. And no real names. My reputation precedes me. Spain has a bounty on my head.’

The Hawk chuckled. ‘England’s greatest spy.’

‘I fail to see how a spy can operate when everyone knows his name,’ the Fish noted.

The lock clicked, the door swung open. The Hawk held up a triumphant hand. ‘Applause, now.’

The Fish pushed past him. Will the Harlequin helped the Hawk up and they both slipped inside, pushing the door closed behind them. Across the echoing, marble-floored entrance hall they flitted like ghosts from shadow to shadow. Silently, they climbed two flights of stairs to a grand corridor along which a guard walked nonchalantly. The Fish removed his mask to reveal a shock of red hair and a freckled face. He pulled out a blowpipe and waited for the guard to near before blowing a dart into his neck.

Will and the Hawk dashed out to catch the guard before he hit the floor. ‘Well done, Francis,’ Will said, removing his mask to reveal an intelligent face topped by curly black hair.

The Hawk followed suit, wiping sweat from his brow. He was barely out of his teens with the red cheeks and heavy jaw of farming stock.

‘Keep your lock-picks to hand, Richard,’ Will hissed. He sprinted quietly along the corridor, counting off the doors. He indicated the fifth, but when Richard dropped to his knees to work the lock, the door swung open at his touch. He looked at Will in puzzlement, who considered this turn of events for a moment before motioning for them all to enter.

Will closed the door behind them. The room was still and dark apart from one shaft of light from the sole unshuttered window. It illuminated a pedestal with a glass case atop it. In it was a black wooden box.

‘There it is,’ Will said softly.

Richard was filled with awe. ‘The Box of Anubis,’ he said in hushed tones, ‘containing-’

‘A plague that can devastate an empire.’ Francis could not tear his eyes from the box. ‘Recovered from the sands of Egypt by Spanish marauders.’

‘So Dee says,’ Will noted sarcastically. ‘And Dee claims to talk with angels.’

‘It would make a fine weapon for England,’ Francis said. ‘The Spanish could not threaten us with this in our possession.’

‘And we cannot threaten the Spanish with it in theirs.’ Will tried to survey the room, but the conflict of dark and light made it impossible to discern any detail.

‘Let us take it and be off. The shadows in this place disturb me,’ Richard said. He set off for the pedestal.

‘Wait!’ Will said, reaching out to his comrade.

The quiet of the room was cut by a shrill whistling. Richard’s head toppled from his shoulders and bounced noisily across the floor. His body slumped down a moment later.

Will and Francis stared in horror before Francis whispered, ‘Witchcraft!’

‘Spanish deception. Traps.’ Sickened, Will edged along the wall to a candelabra and lit two candles with his flint. The shadows rushed away from him.

Dropping to a crouch, Will crept forward holding the candelabra above his head. When he neared Richard’s decapitated body he noticed a brief glimmer in the air. Slowly, he moved the candles back again. The glimmer reappeared.

‘Wires,’ he said, ‘strung across the room at different heights, so delicate they are almost invisible.’ Will followed the line of one wire to where it disappeared into the wall. Holding the candelabra as high as he could, he pressed the wire with one finger until it broke.

High overhead an intricate clockwork mechanism came to life. One of many scythe blades swung down in an arc through the place where Will’s neck would have been if he had been standing. It returned to the ceiling. The top of one candle fell off; the lower one remained intact.

‘The Spanish have the minds of devils,’ Francis said. ‘Would that we were so inventive.’

‘To the window, Francis,’ Will said. ‘We may have need of a rapid exit.’

Carefully ducking under any wires, Francis edged around the wall until he could open a window. The sounds of the carnival floated in.

‘The rest of the world makes merry while I risk a haircut too far.’ Using the candle to illuminate the wires, Will manoeuvred through them. A few steps from the pedestal his boot slid on the wooden floor. He caught himself before he fell, balancing on the ball of one foot. His hand brushed against a wire, which trembled but did not break. Will and Francis let out their breath in a sigh of relief.

Reaching the pedestal, Will cautiously opened the glass case. The wooden box had a handle carved in the shape of the head of Anubis, and hieroglyphics were etched on the black wood in gold filigree. Will scanned for other traps, but seeing nothing steeled himself and plucked the box out. He held it up triumphantly.

‘How can a plague be trapped inside such a thing?’ Francis asked.

‘Damnably clever, those pyramid builders.’

‘I do not believe it.’

Will held the box towards Francis. ‘Would you take a peek inside?’

The door swung open with a clatter and Spanish guards carrying crossbows rushed in and deployed themselves around the room, carefully staying clear of the network of wires.

Will sighed. ‘’Twas too good to be true. Where is he, then?’

A flamboyant man with a waxed goatee and a red and green diamond costume stepped in. He was charismatic, but with a dark, brooding streak.

‘Don Alanzo De Las Posadas,’ Will said. ‘’Twas not my wish to draw you from the party.’

Don Alanzo smiled. ‘William Swyfte. How fitting to see you dressed as a clown.’

‘My friends call me Will, Don Alanzo. Though last time we met you called me “master”. The wound has healed, I see.’

Don Alanzo unconsciously traced a small scar on his cheek. ‘If I recall, our last fight was curtailed by your cowardly comrades blasting the deck from beneath my feet. You have never bested me in fair swordplay, Swyfte. And you never will.’

‘Only a matter of time. I will prevail … and so will England.’

Amused, Don Alanzo pulled back a drape to reveal a lever. He pressed it down and the intricate network of wires rose above head-height. As one, the Spanish guards pointed their crossbows at Will.

Don Alanzo held out a hand. ‘The box.’

‘Who told you we were here?’

Don Alanzo waited patiently with hand outstretched.

Will flung the box to Francis. ‘Quickly, away! I’ll hold them off.’

Francis caught the box as Will threw himself into the line of crossbows. When the guards didn’t fire, Will looked around to see Francis smiling. He was holding out the box for Don Alanzo to take.

‘A traitor, then,’ Will said sadly. ‘I always gave you the benefit of the doubt, Francis. Remember that.’ His hand a blur, Will stabbed it towards Francis, propelling the knife that had popped from his sleeve. It embedded in Francis’s throat. His look of puzzlement gave way to a frantic gurgling as arterial blood arced across the room. And remember I saved you a trip to the Tower.’

Don Alanzo looked down on Francis’s twitching final moments and said simply, ‘No loss.’ He turned back to Will with a cruel smile. ‘Your own death will not be so quick-’

His words were cut short by a distant high-pitched squeaking, drawing closer, and a rattle that was rapidly transforming into a loud drumming.

Will drew his sword while Don Alanzo’s attention was turned to the door. It burst open a moment later and an undulating wave of rats rushed across the floor. The guards were attacked by the snapping, shrieking army that swarmed up their legs and into their clothes, tearing at flesh, aiming at eyes, fingers and groins.

Don Alanzo lurched away from the flood, thrusting the back of his hand to his mouth in horror.

Will flexed his rapier and prepared to duel. ‘You must feel quite at home, Don Alanzo.’

Don Alanzo launched a surprise thrust that almost caught Will unawares. ‘The Devil is with you,’ he said.

Will pinched his nose. ‘Your hypocrisy is rank.’

As Will advanced, Don Alanzo flicked his rapier above his head. A scythe swept down silently. Will saw it from the corner of his eye and ducked at the last moment, but felt his hair stir in the blade’s passing.

‘Let us dance, then,’ he said, all humour now gone.

Don Alanzo and Will launched into a furious duel, thrusting and parrying as they whirled gracefully around the room. With every strike, one or other of them would whisk their rapier up to slice a wire. The scythes swung back and forth in a lethal rhythm, forcing wilder and more athletic steps from Will and Don Alanzo so there was barely time to breathe.

Amidst the cacophonous chaos of attacking rats, clashing swords and swinging scythes, Will registered three people entering the room: the doll-masked woman he had rescued by the canal, a man in a wolf’s-head and another in a dragon mask who wielded a sword limned with a faint blue light. Another figure hovered behind them, unrecognisable in the shadows.

Don Alanzo’s blade nicked Will’s ear: first blood. He could not afford to let his attention wander again, but then he glimpsed something that puzzled him: as Don Alanzo dodged Will’s attack, the sway of his hair revealed what appeared to be a large black spider nestling at the nape of his neck.

They continued their equally matched duel for another minute before there was a flash of activity and Will glimpsed the white, grinning face of the figure behind the strangers, which Will was forced to believe was a mask even though its nightmarish qualities were startlingly lifelike. The figure tumbled with breathtaking agility, dodging guards, rats, blades and scythes with ease. With a flourish, he snatched the Anubis Box that Don Alanzo had been clutching to his chest, and with a bound he was at the door and out, his three comrades following rapidly.

Don Alanzo forced Will onto his back foot and then sprinted away in pursuit. Will in turn ran for the window. Wrapped around his waist was a rope with a hook attached to one end. He hoped it would be strong — and long — enough.