Jack of Ravens

13

Shivering after his immersion in the freezing waters, Will wrapped himself in the cloak he had abandoned and headed into the Templar treasure-store. Church watched him, marvelling at his bravery and hoping he could live up to his own obligations to the same degree.

Tom stared at the crystal skull. ‘I have heard tell of many of these artefacts in the Far Lands. They are said to scream at the touch and bring disaster.’

‘Then touch not.’ With a flourish, Will pulled a sheet of black velvet from the depths of his cloak. He plucked up the skull and wrapped it tightly.

As he did so, the rusty iron gate dropped down a foot from where it had been raised to the ceiling. They all started. ‘It must be on a timed release,’ Church said. ‘A drop every minute or so until it’s back in place.’

‘Better we do not linger, then,’ Will said, ‘lest we become three more treasures to add to this fine hoard.’

‘You flatter yourself, Swyfte. More dull lead than shining gold.’ Don Alanzo stood at the entrance to the chamber with three other men more brutish than the refined Spanish aristocrat. Behind them, Church could just make out another figure waiting in the shadows. The sense of threat was almost supernaturally powerful.

Will’s hand went to his sword, but before he could draw it the three thugs raised their crossbows. Will relaxed, but Church could see him searching for a solution to the predicament. ‘Where is Rab?’ he said. And Kit?’

‘Poor guards for such a remarkable treasure.’ Don Alanzo could barely contain his smugness.

In his face Church saw something that triggered a revelation. ‘You let us retrieve the skull for you.’

‘We have been observing your little group since you first set foot on English soil. Our spies are everywhere.’ Don Alanzo nodded and his men marched forward. They clubbed Will and Church to the floor. Tom got down willingly. The men tied Will, Church and Tom’s hands behind their backs and strapped them to a pillar as Don Alanzo retrieved the crystal skull from Will and slipped it into a leather pouch at his waist.

The iron gate dropped another foot. Don Alanzo stooped to walk under it, where he was met by the figure that had been waiting in the shadows. Church was shocked to see it was the silver-masked spider-thing that had controlled the Redcaps in Cornwall.

‘Your master?’ Will asked.

Don Alanzo swept an introductory arm towards the silent, black-robed thing. Apologies for my lack of good manners. This is Salazar, a wise and powerful man who will ensure that the rule of Rome returns to this godless land.’

‘He’s not human,’ Church said.

One of the thugs aimed a hefty kick at the back of Church’s head. When his vision cleared, Don Alanzo and Salazar were already at the door. ‘And now,’ Don Alanzo said with a bow, ‘we only need to retake the Anubis Box and this business will have an end.’

The gate dropped another foot; it was now only two feet above the ground.

As the Spaniards left, Church saw Salazar’s blank silver mask turn directly towards him. In the movement, Church sensed a terrible note of finality.

Will strained at his bonds as the gate fell again. ‘Do not give up hope. This rope has been tied by a child.’

Church’s own bonds were too tight even to wriggle his hands.

‘Hurry!’ Tom snapped. ‘I do not wish to spend eternity with you two.’

‘I would prefer a beautiful woman,’ Will said. ‘Frankly, I would prefer a gap-toothed strumpet with the pox, but we are all beggars at the time of our passing.’

He wrenched his hands free from the ropes just as the gate crashed to the flags with an echo like a tolling bell. Will jumped forward and futilely strained to lift it before turning back to Church and Tom.

‘Balfour will be back to free us?’ Tom said hopefully.

‘Rab is likely dead. Don Alanzo will have sealed the hidden door. We must not look for help from outside, friends.’

‘What do you suggest, then?’ Tom’s voice broke with the strain. ‘The lever to open this gate is on the other side of the gate! There’s nothing we can do!’

‘Then ’tis a slow death from starvation,’ Will said blithely. He prowled the perimeter of the room looking for inspiration.

While Tom hugged his knees to contain his mounting panic, Church’s attention was drawn to a stream of water pouring through the stone ceiling. It splashed on the flags and ran into a gutter where it flowed away.

‘If we could prise out some of these stones we might be able to dig through the river bed,’ he said. ‘It can’t be far above our heads.’

‘Are you mad?’ Tom roared. ‘The waters would rush down upon us in an instant. Would you commit suicide by drowning?’

‘To be honest, it’s rapidly becoming an attractive prospect if it means I don’t have to listen to you any more,’ Church snapped.

Will examined the point where the water rushed in. ‘I think you have hit on a good plan, Master Churchill.’

‘We hold our breath until the water has filled up this chamber, and then we should be able to swim up,’ Church said.

‘’Twill be an icy dip, but our limbs should stay strong until we reach the bank,’ Will noted.

‘You’re both mad,’ Tom raged.

‘He’s right, you know,’ Will said.

‘Yep.’

‘Still, desperate men lead desperate lives.’ Will searched in the depths of his cloak.

‘I could attack you both. Beat your brains out with this … this …’ Tom searched amongst the artefacts and randomly pulled one out. ‘This brass pig.’

‘We have swords,’ Church cautioned.

‘Though, a brass pig …’ Will mused. ‘As deaths go, the novelty would live on in history.’

‘If anyone ever found out,’ Church said.

‘Ah!’ Will plucked a small pouch from one of the many secret pockets in his cloak. Save your sword, Master Churchill. I have an easier route to a watery grave.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Why, gunpowder!’

Church glanced at Tom who was as white as the wintry streets above, but he appeared to have resigned himself to whatever Church and Will had planned.

Will packed the gunpowder in the gap between the flags and pushed in a short fuse, also retrieved from the pouch.

‘I wouldn’t mind a cloak like that,’ Church said. ‘Something for every occasion.’

‘The first thing they teach you as a spy is always to be prepared,’ Will said. ‘Actually, the first thing they teach you is to beware a woman who opens her legs before her mouth.’

He struck his flint and lit the fuse before diving behind the pile of treasures where Church and Tom were already sheltering. Church had the briefest moment to mourn the loss of Templar wisdom and artefacts and then the blast struck him blind, deaf and dumb.

It was followed by a torrent of water smashing into the pile of treasures. Church, Tom and Will just made it over to the railings before the full force of the deluge knocked the wind from their lungs. The water was so cold Church wondered if they really did stand a chance before hypothermia set in.

Tom shivered uncontrollably as they climbed to the top of the gates. ‘You have killed me before my time! I should have known better than to entrust my life to two fools!’ he shouted above the deafening torrent.

The sense of desperate claustrophobia and impending doom spiralled when the river extinguished the lamp and plunged them into darkness. Their bodies numb, they pressed their faces against the stones of the ceiling to fight for the last gasp of air. The water touched their lips, their noses, and then it was done. Church felt around for Tom and Will, then urged them both to move. They struck out for the gaping hole, feeling in the dark for its ragged edges.

And then Church was drawing himself up through rock and mud until he felt the river’s current pulling at him. With frozen, tired limbs, he struck up and out towards what he hoped would be the bank.

Minutes later he dragged himself out onto the snow-covered mud flat. Will broke water seconds later, but after his ordeal in the lever tunnel he had no strength left. Church waded in and dragged him out.

‘True Thomas,’ Will said through chattering teeth. ‘Where is he?’

Church scanned the slow-moving water, but could see no sign. Steeling himself, his limbs shaking uncontrollably, he dived back into the river.

It was impossible to see anything in the murky depths, so it was more by chance than design that he came across Tom’s too-still floating body. Church grabbed him and struck back to the surface.

On the bank, Church gave Tom the kiss of life, pumping his lungs and massaging his heart but fearing the worst. After several moments Tom convulsed and vomited water.

‘You realise,’ Will said, ‘that you will now have to endure a lifetime of grumbles and moans for what you have put him through.’

On the brink of hypothermia, they made it to the road. Marlowe stood next to the rope overhanging the drawbridge, clutching a cloth to a gash on his head.

‘I was afeared Don Alanzo had left you for dead,’ he said.

‘He may still have lest you get us to a warm fire,’ Will said. ‘What news of Rab?’

‘They took him,’ Marlowe said. ‘As I woke on the doorstep, I heard them in their passing. They know where the box is. They are on their way to Myddle.’