Will Shakespeare and the Pirate's Fire Read online

  He jumped up excitedly. “We’re not done for yet, Grace!” he exclaimed. “I think I can get us out of here!”

  23 A Pretty Piece of Thieving

  “Yes, I know it is a code!” Mendoza said irritably. “I did not grant you these few minutes of life so you could tell me what I already know.”

  Will saw Grace’s jaw clench tight as she bit back a lashing reply. They had agreed Will would do the talking, then called the guards to take them to Mendoza, offering to confess all.

  “Look at it,” said Will, flipping the green book open. “There’s not one code here but many. It would take years to crack all of them.”

  “And do you have the keys to the codes in your head?”

  Mendoza inquired sharply. “For if not you are wasting valuable time you should be spending in prayer.”

  “That’s the point,” said Will. “There are too many. Nobody could possibly memorise them all.”

  “I do not see how this is good news for you,” said Mendoza, waving his guards forward. “You offer me no reason to be merciful.”

  “Let him finish, you pox-addled fool!” Grace exclaimed.

  Mendoza’s nostrils flared at the insult.

  “The codes are written down in another book,” Will interjected quickly. “You need both books to understand the text.”

  Mendoza was intrigued now. “A second book, you say?” He ran his finger over the open page of the Meta Incognita. “And where is that to be found?”

  “In Dr Dee’s library,” said Will. “He has thousands of books there.”

  “If there are so many, how can you pick out the right one?” asked Mendoza.

  “I saw it once,” said Will. “I’m sure I could find it again.”

  “Is this another lie?” Mendoza asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between Grace and Will.

  “He was at Mortlake with me,” said Grace. “I had him worm his way into Dee’s confidence to help me find the Meta Incognita.”

  “I know I can find it,” Will insisted. He pointed to the crucifix on the wall. “I’ll swear on the cross if you like.”

  “A pirate’s oath!” Mendoza sneered. “You might as well swear on a barrel of rum.”

  “What other choice do you have?” asked Grace. “Do you want to bring an army up the Thames and lay siege to Mortlake? That would be tipping your hand a mite, wouldn’t it?”

  Mendoza waved his men back and Grace broke out in a broad grin. “Now you’re showing there’s some brains under that perfumed mop of yours.” She picked up Dee’s book and the satchel, tucking them both under her cloak.

  “Hold there!” Mendoza exclaimed. “Do you think I am going to let you leave with that?”

  Grace placed a hand on her hip and stared at the ambassador as if he was a difficult schoolboy. “And what use is it to you just now?” she asked tartly. “Are you planning to take it to your king so he can beat your brains out with it?”

  “No,” said Mendoza, “but I would be a fool to let you take it.”

  “We have to go back to Mortlake and trick the key out of Dr Dee,” said Grace. “He won’t let us take two steps over his threshold if we don’t bring his precious book with us.”

  Turning away, she stuffed the book back in its satchel and pulled her cloak tightly around her. Mendoza snapped an order at his men who immediately barred her way. Grace whirled about and glowered at him.

  “Unless I hold on to the Meta Incognita,” said the ambassador, “I have no guarantee that you will return. As things stand now, if you bring me the second book, I will pay you all that you are owed.”

  “And how in the name of the Almighty do you expect us to get in and out of Dee’s house unnoticed?” Grace asked.

  Mendoza stroked his moustache thoughtfully, as if coming to a difficult decision. “I tell you this in confidence,” he said. “There are revels planned at Mortlake tomorrow night. I know for a fact that events will take an unexpected turn, so much so that you will have all the distraction you need to enter and depart unseen. The rest I leave to your resourcefulness.”

  Will held his breath, praying silently that Grace’s temper wouldn’t trip them up at this last hurdle. She appeared to ponder a moment then strode over to the table and laid down the satchel.

  “I’ll need my weapons back if we’re to fight our way out of Mortlake,” she told the ambassador.

  Mendoza gave instruction to one of his men who fetched Grace’s sword and dagger and handed them over to her. Sheathing the weapons she turned to Will. “Come on, Will, let’s be off.”

  The Spanish guards escorted them down the hallway, stopping at the front door to watch them make their way across the courtyard. Will felt as if he were crossing a bridge made of twigs that might collapse at any second. In the night sky above the half moon looked as if it were turning its face away from the knavish tricks of mortals.

  “Devil take him for not trusting me!” Grace muttered under her breath.

  Her words jogged Will’s memory. With all their efforts to escape Mendoza’s house he had not thought to ask her about the Devil’s Fire. “Grace,” he said, “you have to tell me about the Dev—”

  “Hush and walk faster, Will!” Grace cut him off.

  Will’s stomach sank. “Why?”

  “I’ve got the book pinned under my arm. It was my gloves I stuffed in the bag. A pretty piece of thieving, don’t you think?”

  “Very pretty,” Will groaned. “But we won’t be if Mendoza gets his hands on us.”

  At that moment an angry cry exploded inside the house like a gunshot. The ambassador had opened the satchel.

  “Abandon ship, Will!” Grace cried, breaking into a run.

  Will raced after her out into the dark street. He bumped into her back as she swerved into an alley and pulled up short. Donal was waiting there for her.

  “You had me worried, Grace!” said Donal. “You were gone that long.”

  “Negotiations turned a mite thorny,” Grace told him. She peered down the alley and let out an angry hiss. “What’s this?”

  “We found this peacock sneaking up on the Signor’s house, so we bagged him for you,” said Donal proudly.

  A few yards down the alley stood two more pirates holding Walter prisoner between them. One had taken his sword while the other held a knife to his throat.

  “Walter Raleigh, I’ve had husbands that didn’t stick as close as you do!” Grace exclaimed in disgust. “Is there no way to shake loose of you?”

  “I promise you’ll have none of my company when you’re locked in the Tower,” said Walter. He looked curiously at Will. “I searched for you, Will, but there was no trace. How did you get here?”

  Before Will could reply there came a clatter of boot heels from the street and a band of armed Spaniards charged into view.

  “Let him go, boys!” Grace ordered abruptly. “We’ve bigger trouble on our hands!”

  At least half a dozen Spaniards poured into the alley. The first was carrying a heavy musket, which he braced against his shoulder ready to fire.

  Quick as the snap of a whip, Grace swept her sword from its sheath and swung it at full stretch to dash the gun barrel aside. The shot boomed through the alley like a thunderclap and the powder flash dazzled Spaniards and pirates alike. The bullet missed its target and split open a rain barrel with a sharp crack.

  As everyone reeled from the sudden flare, Will saw Grace had dropped the Meta Incognita. Coughing from the musket smoke, he made a lunge and scooped it up. As the Spaniards surged forward, Walter reclaimed his sword and leapt to meet them.

  “Get away, Will!” he ordered as the pirates formed up around him and Grace. “Head for the river!”

  Will tried to break away, but the fight was all around him now. Every step he took he was jostled or tripped by the furious combatants. The alley echoed with the clang of steel and a dinning chorus of threats and curses. Grace and Walter fought back to back now, too caught up in the battle even to insult each other.

&n
bsp; Falling to his knees, Will wormed his way through a thicket of stamping legs. Once clear, he sprang to his feet again. Tucking the book under his arm, he pelted down the alley and round the corner into a small open court.

  Head for the river, Walter had said. But which way was it?

  As he tried to take his bearings, the sound of running feet made him turn to face another Spaniard with a musket. The man levelled the gun at him. “Stand where you are!” he ordered.

  Will froze in panic. Smiling grimly, the Spaniard adjusted his aim and touched his finger to the trigger.

  24 Shooting the Bridge

  Will had a desperate flash of inspiration. Whipping the book out from under his arm, he placed it square across his chest. Relief almost made him giddy when the Spaniard lowered his gun and snarled in frustration.

  He had guessed rightly that Mendoza’s men had orders to retrieve the book and none of them dared risk blasting a hole through it. The Spaniard advanced on him and Will backed away. Glancing behind him he saw a narrow street that bent sharply after a few yards, but if he turned to make a dash for it, he wouldn’t be able to use the book as a shield.

  Suddenly a tumult erupted behind the Spaniard who whirled round to see two of his fellows spill into the square, locked in combat with Donal and one of his shipmates. Seizing his chance, Will spun about and raced off down the narrow street. The Spaniard shouted and raised his musket.

  The bang of exploding powder smacked the air and the street lit up as if hit by lightning. Will felt a hot gust at his cheek as the bullet whistled past and cracked the plaster of a nearby building.

  The shock spurred him on and he raced for the end of the lane, wheeling round the corner. He ran for his life, bumping off walls and skidding on the refuse that lay scattered over the cobbles.

  Another musket shot boomed out somewhere close by and Will bolted in the opposite direction. Down this street then left up another. He was running so fast he was only dimly aware of dashing out on to an embankment. He reeled to a stop on the very edge of the walk with the grey water of the Thames lapping twenty feet below him. As he tottered on the brink, he was grabbed by the collar and hauled back to safety.

  “The Thames is no place to go swimming, Will,” joked Raleigh “You wouldn’t believe some of the things people toss in there.”

  “Walter!” Will exclaimed in relief. “How did you know to find me at the ambassador’s?”

  “Well, after a couple of hours searching for you, I decided the best thing I could do was track down Grace O’Malley,” Walter explained. “The best way to do that was to keep an eye on Mendoza’s house, but I’d no sooner got there than those pirates ambushed me.” Smiling, he took the book from Will and patted the cover. “Still, all’s well that ends well, eh?” Another clash of swords echoed through the buildings behind them. “Time to go!”

  Towing Will after him, Raleigh set out along the embankment. A hundred yards upriver they came to a flight of steps leading down to a stone jetty. Here, seated in a rowing boat and preparing to cast off, was Lok, the man from the icy north.

  “Best speed, Lok, best speed!” Walter urged as he and Will climbed aboard.

  “Speed?” said Lok. “I am almost asleep waiting for you to come back.”

  He set his powerful shoulders to the oars and pulled away from the bank. Will looked out across the river and saw a few barges drifting along as well as a scattering of other rowing boats ferrying late night revellers back home. Most of the boats carried lanterns and many of the passengers were singing to each other.

  A rapid drumming of running feet caused him to turn back towards the bank. “Look!” he exclaimed, pointing. Walter looked and groaned as Grace O’Malley came pelting down the steps towards them. “Hold up there!” she yelled, sheathing her sword.

  Walter clapped Lok on the shoulder. “Go! Go! She can swim if she needs to.”

  Putting on a final burst of speed, Grace ran full tilt down the jetty and took a flying leap off the end, her cloak billowing about her. She crashed into their midst, burying Walter beneath her. The boat lurched perilously to one side.

  “Have a care!” Lok cried. “You’ll overturn us!”

  Dropping the oars he seized hold of the pirate queen and dragged her off his companion. “You she-devil!” gasped Walter. “Are you trying to sink us?”

  Grace righted herself with a toss of her head. “Leave off your griping, Walter! Surely you didn’t mean to leave me to Signor Mendoza’s harsh mercies. That wouldn’t be gentlemanly.”

  “It’s you that got us into all of this,” Will accused her. “It’s a lucky thing any of us are alive.”

  Grace gave him a look of feigned disappointment. “Oh, Will, and there was I thinking you were one of my crew now.”

  “Enough talk!” Lok rumbled. “See what is coming!”

  They all stared and Will swallowed hard. A long, sleek boat rowed by six Spaniards was pulling away from another jetty. It swung round on its keel and came driving towards them with gathering speed. Mendoza stood in the prow, urging his men on with a wave of his pistol.

  “He has his own barge!” groaned Walter. He dropped the book and took one of the oars from Lok. “Row for it!” he urged. “We’ve got to keep clear of them!”

  The two men pulled mightily, rowing downriver for all they were worth.

  Straightening his arm, Mendoza braced himself against the motion of the boat and took careful aim with his pistol.

  Grace slapped Walter on the knee. “Put your back into it, man! He’s a dead shot, so I hear.”

  “If you’re not happy, why don’t you take the oar?” Walter grunted.

  Grace clutched her wounded arm and grimaced. “Don’t think I wouldn’t if you hadn’t cut my arm, you miserable son of a sea cook!”

  A plume of smoke belched from Mendoza’s gun. The bullet punched a hole in one of the boat’s wooden ribs, puncturing it only inches above the water line.

  Grace blew the ambassador a mocking kiss and called out, “Bad luck, Signor!”

  “If I could spare a moment I’d toss you in the water and let him have you,” Walter growled.

  Grace tilted her head coquettishly. “Walter, if you keep talking like that, I’ll be thinking you’re not in love with me any more.”

  “In love!” Walter exclaimed through gritted teeth. He tried to come up with a suitably outraged rebuttal, but words failed him. Instead he threw all his energy into the oar.

  Lok was rowing so furiously the bones on his necklace were rattling. Both men were red-faced and sweating. Lok squinted at their pursuers. “They are catching us.”

  “They row like Argonauts, damn them!” said Walter.

  “And there’s the Bridge, dead ahead!” Will warned.

  The dark bulk of London Bridge loomed before them, only a few pale lights dotted among its windows. Once they fetched up against it the Spaniards would have them.

  “We’re between a rock and a whirlpool, and that’s a fact,” Grace declared ruefully.

  “Can we make it to the bank?” Walter asked his companion.

  Lok shook his head. “They would be on us too quick. There is one chance, if you have the stomach for it.”

  “The stomach for what?” Will asked uneasily.

  “To shoot the Bridge,” Lok replied grimly.

  “You mean go under?” exclaimed Walter. “Nobody goes under London Bridge. The channels between the pillars are too narrow. The current would wreck us.”

  “I knew a man who tried it,” said Lok. “His passengers were drunk but rich and paid him well to dare it.”

  “So what happened to the brave fellow?” asked Grace.

  “The boat was smashed to pieces and all of them drowned,” Lok answered.

  “God’s nails, man!” Walter gasped. “What makes you think you can succeed?”

  “I will say a prayer to my goddess Sedna,” Lok said, as if that settled the matter.

  “Well, that’s a comfort!” said Grace, slumping back in the
stern. “He’s got a goddess to help him.”

  “We’ve no choice,” said Walter, tight-lipped. “I hope this Sedna loves you, Lok.”

  “I am a fine, handsome man,” Lok assured him. “Sedna loves me very much.”

  Will picked up the Meta Incognita from where Walter had dropped it. “We need something to protect the book,” he said. “You know, just in case…”

  “There is a cape of sealskin under the seat below you,” said Lok. “I keep it against the rain.”

  Will pulled out the sealskin and wrapped it tightly around the book.

  “Here, Will, let me take care of that for you,” said Grace, stretching out a hand. “It’s brought you enough trouble already.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Will, stuffing it deep inside his shirt.

  Lok and Walter steered for the nearest opening under the Bridge. Will saw that the Spaniards had guessed what they were up to and had redoubled their efforts, urged on by Mendoza’s angry cries. If Lok and Walter slowed even a fraction they’d be caught. Ahead of them lay escape – or death.

  “Here it comes,” said Walter. “Hold on!”

  The gap yawned before them like a hungry maw. Lok and Walter dragged their oars into the boat as Grace and Will gripped the hull. With a sickening lurch the rabid current seized hold and shot them into the blackness.

  25 Proof Positive

  It was like diving headlong down the throat of a colossal sea beast. The roar of the water echoed deafeningly off the walls of the tunnel and the massive weight of the bridge overhead pressed down on them like the crushing hand of a stone giant. Above the tumult Will could hear Lok’s keening voice singing out to Sedna, the goddess of the frozen North.

  Whether it was Lok’s skill that saved them, the blessing of his goddess or sheer luck Will didn’t know, but the next moment they came flying out under the stars, propelled across the water by the sheer momentum of the current.