The Silver Skull

CHAPTER 38

here was no escape. Will hung out of his cell window at the top of the tower, but the walls were sheer. Even if he found a rope of sufficient length, the tower was in clear view of the army of guards swarming around the palace far below. Don Alanzo had been correct: El Escorial was the most secure building in all of the Spanish empire, a true fortress, the perfect prison.

From his window, he had a vista that at any other time would have been reserved for visiting dignitaries or European royals, across the desolate waste surrounding El Escorial towards the lush green near Madrid. His cell was filled with the finest furniture and works of art from across the empire. The irony was not lost on him.

Grace's appearance had deeply disturbed him, but his concerns were interrupted by the key in the lock. The door swung open to reveal several guards-he was never left alone with any less than five-the captain stepping in to bark, "Kneel, English dog, in the presence of the king."

"I kneel only before those who are worthy of my respect," Will stated. The guards threw him to the floor, pikes pressed against the back of his neck so that he could not raise his head.

From his reduced perspective, he watched a pair of black velvet slippers walk slowly into the chamber and stand before him, and only then was he allowed to look up. Dressed all in black with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, Philip was an ascetic figure, but Will saw in his eyes a gentleness not normally evident in monarchs.

"An English spy." He looked Will up and down with disdain. "And not just any spy. They tell me you are England's greatest spy, William Swyfte. Is that correct?"

"We are all burdened by our reputations," Will replied, "but mine provides me with a parade of entertainment while yours, I am sure, does not."

Philip ignored the gibe. "Tell me, what is the point of a spy when everyone knows his name?"

"You are not the first to ask that question."

"Does not your whole business involve secrets, duplicity, deceit, and shadows?"

"And you think I am not involved in such things?"

Philip nodded condescendingly. "I understand. What you see is not always what is. You are not England's greatest spy, for if you were you would not be here."

"I would rather be perceived as victorious than great."

"You shall be neither. Your execution is forthcoming-"

"After my torture."

Philip winced and looked away as if he had glimpsed something distasteful. "And your country's days are numbered," he continued regardless. "The Armada is to sail soon."

"Your Armada has floundered before."

"Not this time," Philip said sharply. In that instant, Will could see the strain the king was under: victory would cement Spain's reputation and empire for all time; defeat would deal a blow from which he might not recover. Realising he had revealed too much, Philip sniffed and said, "I wished to see what kind of man England thought was the best it could offer in opposition to my plans. I am not impressed. If you are the best, this business is already concluded."

Philip spun on his heel and marched to the door, coming to a slow halt when Will said, "You pray to God, but a devil whispers in your ear."

Uneasily, the king turned and fixed a warning eye on Will.

"Do her kisses ease your conscience?" Will pressed. "Do her honeyed words cause blindness to the choices you make?"

"Beat him," Philip said to the guards. "Severely."

"You fail to understand," Will continued. "You think you have taken me prisoner. But I am exactly where I wish to be."

A shadow crossed Philip's face when he saw Will's expression and he hurried from the room.