Chapter 1: A New Era
"Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more."
—Macbeth
Syon Estate. July 26, 1603.
"That's the last one," Jack said, hoisting the trunk onto the cart.
"Are you sure you won't accompany me to Norfolk?" Tom Harriot asked. "With the theaters closed because of the plague, work must be hard to come by. I wager you'd be able to land some painting commissions from the gentry in Norfolk, especially when they hear of the murals you've done for Lord Northumberland."
"I hope that's the case. I'll come to see you after checking on Lady Bess," Jack promised.
He'd miss Tom's comfortable quarters on Lord Northumberland's estate at Syon. The simple brick house had been a home for both of them over the past several years. Jack kept his painting supplies there and practiced the viol in free moments. There was plenty of space for Tom's experiments. Mop had been able to roam free on the estate and as he grew older, he had a warm hearth to sleep in front of. The dog wouldn't be leaving Syon. The years had caught up with him. Jack buried him last spring in the shade of an oak tree behind Tom's house.
"Lady Bess shouldn't stay in London either," Tom said. "No one's safe," he added in a mutter.
Did he mean from the plague or from the king? A new era for England began when the queen died last March. From Jack's perspective, the most significant change was that his playing company had switched their name from the Lord Chamberlain's Men to the King's Men. Not that they got to perform very often. Until the plague ran its course, he was doing odd jobs wherever he could.
The plague wasn't the only storm cloud that arrived with King James. His persecution of witches became even more severe once he moved from Edinburgh. Rumors were widespread that witches were responsible for the plague because they feared the new king.
And it extended beyond witches. Anyone who practiced alchemy was considered suspect. Even Lord Northumberland had to be careful. To forestall any issues, he'd quickly curried favor with the king. Sir Walter should have done the same. He was arrested a month ago. He'd been accused of plotting to overthrow the king and was now imprisoned in the Tower of London.
Tom absently stroked his beard. "Please let Lady Bess know if there's anything I can do for her . . . or Walter . . ." His words trailed off in a helpless shrug.
"They already know," Jack said gently. Tom's attempts to vouch for Sir Walter's character had perhaps done more harm than good. Father H said that Tom was suspected of being an atheist. That was nonsense. He used to regularly attend services when Jack was a member of St. Paul's choir school. But paranoia was as rampant as the plague.
For over a decade, Lord Northumberland had been a benefactor to both of them. In addition to the house at Syon, he'd given Tom properties in Norfolk and Cornwall. Tom hoped the house outside Norwich would be far enough away to prevent his lordship from suffering any rebukes over his friendship with Tom.
"London is not safe for you either," Tom warned. "The king just issued another proclamation about the plague. You'll be careful to avoid all quarantined houses?"
"Of course," Jack assured him. He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, it's not like I could catch anything from Leonard or Father H."
During the plague, there was much to be said for being a wearh. In fact, based on his understanding, there were only positives no matter what the circumstances. Freedom from disease and long life, coupled with the ability to run faster than he could ever manage—Leonard had him beat in so many areas.
Tom gave a rueful smile. "I wish you and I were as well protected."
#
The clop-clop of Sienna's hooves sounded eerily quiet on the cobblestone streets of London. The only carts Jack saw were carrying corpses bound for one of the mass burial sites. The stones were thick with dried herbs, but the fragrance of rosemary and sorrel was hard to distinguish among the weeds and refuse on the streets.
Jack leaned forward to pat Sienna's neck. "I'm glad there's no danger of you catching the plague," he murmured. She gave a soft whinny in response as if she agreed.
The month he'd been gone hadn't been kind to London. Some lanes looked completely deserted. Everywhere he saw poles with clumps of straw attached to them, an indication that plague victims were inside. Large red crosses painted on door lintels were now common.
The official coronation of the king had taken place a few days ago to the accompaniment of only a few festivities. London was fast becoming a city of death. Out of old habit, Jack rode through Blackfriars. He excused it as being on the way to Russell House. Lord Northumberland continued to lease the house along the Strand, staying there when he was needed at Whitehall.
Jack brought Sienna to a halt so he could linger in the courtyard of the Hart and Crown. The half-timbered building appeared solid. Jack breathed easier when he saw no crosses. He gazed up at the mullioned windows on the upper floor. He used to be inside, looking out on the world. If he squinted his eyes, he could pretend he saw Mistress Roydon's shadow through the glass. That's all she and Master Roydon were now—shadows of a vanished world. He hoped that wherever they were, there was no plague to darken their days.
He nudged Sienna onward. The great houses built along the Strand appeared to have escaped the plague, perhaps because their owners had already fled to the countryside. At Russell House, a few servants were left. After grooming and feeding the horse at the stable, Jack proceeded on foot.
Durham House was only a block away. When Jack knocked at the door, he was directed to the great hall. Lady Bess was helping her servants pack crates. She'd tied a muslin shift over her gown.
"Jack, you are a very welcome sight!" she exclaimed when Jack doffed his cap and made a bow.
"Is your ladyship moving?"
"Worse. We've been kicked out of our home," she said, frowning. "The Bishop of Durham requested the house be returned to the see, and the king granted his permission. Apparently, Queen Elizabeth's wishes don't amount to anything now. She'd bestowed the house on Walter over a decade ago." She smiled ruefully. "Yet another indignity we'll have to endure."
"Where will you go?" Jack asked, dismayed at the news.
"I'm not leaving London," she declared.
"Until the plague is gone, you'd be better off."
"As long as my husband is a prisoner, I refuse to leave. I sent young Wat to my mother in Suffolk. He should be safe there. But no plague will harm me. My anger will burn it away!"
Lady Bess's fierceness reminded him of Mistress Roydon. He was sure the two would have been close friends. Lady Bess had red hair like the mistress. Jack had often wondered if red hair was a sign of a free thinker. Not that he dared mention anything. Nowadays, too many felt free thinkers were considered to be in league with Satan.
"Lord Northumberland was my savior," she continued. "He offered me the use of Russell House. Most of our furnishings will go to our estate in Dorset, waiting for the time when our family is reunited."
"How may I help? You and Sir Walter have been so good to me, please let me do something."
She smiled sadly at him. "What I want you can't give, and that's my husband. But thank you. If you have the time, you can help me pack."
Not a satisfactory substitute.
As Jack wrapped silver vessels in linen cloths, his mind spun in several directions. Unknowingly, Lady Bess had given him a challenge. It reminded him of when he'd been in Prague. The Roydons had lectured him endlessly about not sneaking into the Emperor's palace, but they only succeeded in making him more determined.
When Gallowglass took him to see the Emperor's menagerie, he'd leaped on the opportunity to make a grand exploration of the palace. Thanks to a key he'd lifted, Master Roydon was able to snatch a book. He'd explained to Jack that the emperor had acquired it by underhanded means so they were simply recovering stolen property. The Roydons brought the book back with them to England. Jack hadn't heard what happened to it, but he assumed they kept it with them.
If as an eight-year-old, he'd managed to sneak into an emperor's palace, surely the Tower of London wouldn't be that much more of a challenge.
"Have you been able to see Sir Walter?" he asked.
She shook her head. "They won't let him have any visitors till his trial, and that's at least a couple of weeks off."
"Then he doesn't know about Durham House . . . I bet I could get a letter to him."
She stared at him, shocked. "I can't permit you to do anything that dangerous. If you were caught, you could be killed on the spot."
"That won't happen," he said firmly. "I'm going to do it. If you don't want to write a letter, I will. He needs to know what's happening and that his friends support him."
#
Hubbard was kneeling at prayer when Susanna Norman entered the nave. She took a seat in the front pew, waiting for him to finish. So many souls to mourn. Only wearhs were spared the horrors of the plague. A daemon had died this morning. The St. James Garlickhythe gathering had lost many of their members.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." Hubbard crossed himself, stood up, and turned to face Susanna. "Is another parishioner ill?"
"Undoubtedly, but that's not why I came to see you."
He took a seat next to her, hoping to take advantage of the visit to encourage her to leave London. So far, the witches in the city had been spared active persecution by the new king, but the situation wasn't likely to last. Possibly the plague had delayed a new initiative, but Hubbard suspected it would be only a temporary respite.
"I've heard disturbing news from Jeffrey's wife Annick," she said.
Her son had married the Breton witch last year. Hubbard had heard reports about her ability. Annick was one of the de Brigues. The family had the reputation of being seers. Jeffrey was a skilled witch, but Annick's gift supposedly far exceeded that of her husband. Hubbard would have liked to have learned more about her, but he hadn't had the chance to sample her blood. Jeffrey had moved away from London and was living in Norwich where he worked at a pub owned by Susanna's brother.
"Annick heard from a cousin who lives in Paris," Susanna continued. "Witches are asking about Diana's whereabouts. Annick was told she's a powerful English witch and wondered if I knew her." Her face grew anxious. "It's been twelve years. I'm surprised that people are talking about her. Is Jack still inquiring about her on the quays?"
"Not by name, but he still visits the docks every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her and Matthew. Even though the boy knows they timewalked, he thinks they could pay a return visit."
She looked at him incredulously. "Does he think they used a galleon?"
Hubbard shrugged. "I've pointed out the foolishness of his belief, but he argues how else would they travel, and I've yet to find a compelling counter-argument." Hubbard's mood darkened as he thought about how Matthew abandoned the boy. At least Diana had shown the good sense to seek Hubbard out and ask for his protection. Jack was a good lad. He idolized the Roydons, but Matthew had turned his back on the child. It was yet another black mark against the de Clermonts.
"Annick heard that Diana may know where a valuable book is. Witches call it The Book of Life."
Hubbard had heard of the ancient text. Supposedly the work explained the origin of wearhs. "What makes this book so special?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
"It's reputed to be the first grimoire. It explains the source of our magic. I didn't believe it actually existed. I'd never heard Diana mention it. Did she say anything to you?"
"No. Why do you think she would have shared any information with me? You know she wasn't exactly forthcoming with me."
"Because a gathering in Prague heard that a wearh was making inquiries about Diana. Annick's cousin thinks that he may be the source of the rumors. Diana was in Prague. Do you think there's any truth to the tale?"
Was there? Edward Kelley had been in Prague at the same time Diana was there. He'd sent Hubbard a picture of dragons to give to Diana, but she'd already left. Did the picture have something to do with the book? "Not to my knowledge, and I'm not acquainted with any wearhs in Prague."
"Should we warn Jack?"
Hubbard shrugged. "About what? Not to discuss the Roydons? He already knows. What did you tell Annick?" he asked, curious to hear how far she'd gone.
"The truth. That I knew Diana but she's no longer in England and I have no idea where she is. I also warned Annick not to discuss her with others. I trust her. Her own family was persecuted in Brittany. She understands the need to be discreet."
"Does she know about Jack's relationship to Diana?"
"No, it's never come up."
"Good. There's no need for her to know, and in these dangerous times, the fewer who are aware the better." The rumors about the grimoire were tantalizing. Jack had never discussed his time in Prague. He was so young, he likely wouldn't have known what Diana's activities had been. Hubbard felt a lingering unease. What wearh could be asking about her? Most likely it was someone connected to the de Clermonts. Hubbard had never trusted them. It was only reluctantly at Diana's request that he'd agreed to place Matthew under his protection. He hoped that hadn't been a mistake. The de Clermonts were a proud family. They hadn't acquired their position without attracting powerful enemies, and he wanted no part in their scandals.
Familiar scents wafted into the nave. Leonard and Jack were outside. A couple of minutes later, they strolled inside the church, laughing over something. Hubbard sighed over what scrape they were undoubtedly hatching. Didn't he have enough on his plate?
Both Jack and Leonard doffed their caps. "Mistress Norman, I was going to visit you after seeing Father H. Are you well?" Jack asked politely.
"Quite well, Jack, thank you. I'm leaving London shortly. Jeffrey and Annick have invited me to stay with them."
Hubbard was pleased to hear it. Susanna's husband had died. She'd already lost her niece Annie and her younger son to the plague. She'd be much safer in Norwich where there was no sign of the disease.
He was glad to hear Jack and Leonard offer their help with the move. Perhaps that would keep them out of whatever mischief they were plotting. It was perhaps understandable in Jack's case. He didn't know when he was born but was probably nineteen years old. But Leonard had been alive for over a hundred years. The time was long past for him to behave responsibly.
"Tom lives only a short distance from Norwich," Jack said. "I promised I'd visit him after my business in London is concluded. I'll come to see you too. I haven't seen Jeffrey and Annick since the wedding."
"They'd welcome you. I'm assured their mead is the best in Norfolk."
Hubbard eyed Jack suspiciously. The playhouses were all shuttered. Just what was his business in London?
#
"It's a good thing you didn't tell Father H," Leonard murmured under his breath. "He'd chain you to the bell tower. I thought my schemes were daring, but you take the prize. Sneaking into the Tower of London?"
Jack grinned. "And we're about to do it." He brushed a piece of lint off his yeoman uniform. They'd spent the past several days in reconnaissance, monitoring the activities of the tower guards. More than ever Jack was jealous of Leonard's heightened night vision, not to mention lightning-fast speed. Jack had lifted the key to the guard supply room, but Leonard had insisted on stealing the uniforms. His claim that he was too fast to be spotted was irrefutable.
Finally, the days of lurking on the quay beneath the tower were over. They were both clad in armor with scarlet velvet coats trimmed in silver. Their bonnets were black and red. Jack couldn't wait to make a portrait of Leonard. He'd give it to Bryn when they related their adventure. But there was one small detail left—actually accomplishing the feat. He had a letter and two books from Lady Bess secreted within his coat. All they needed to do was deliver them.
By now, they'd memorized the guards' schedule. Leonard had recommended waiting till night, when, if anything went wrong, they'd be harder to spot. For the past hour, they'd been concealed under an archway waiting for the guard to leave the tower block where Raleigh was imprisoned.
Leonard nudged him. "I can smell the guard," he whispered. "He reeks of ale. With any luck, he'll fall asleep."
"Did you add more to his tankard while he was upstairs?"
Leonard's teeth flashed white as he grinned. "Aye, and it was the extra potent brew."
Jack fell silent when he heard the thud of the guard's boots on the stone staircase. He flattened his body against the wall and noticed Leonard doing the same. Once the guard passed them and continued down the stairs, they sprang into action.
Sir Walter's cell was three flights up in the area reserved for the gentry. Leonard had heard the guards mention the location. Sir Walter was arrested a few weeks ago and had only moved essential furniture inside. Everyone hoped his stay wouldn't be long. He'd been held in the tower in the early '90s and apparently still had friends among the guards as some spoke kindly of him.
They crept upstairs, silent as shadows, having first covered their boots with soft cloths to muffle the sound. A few of the cells were lit with candles.
Sir Walter was reading at a small table when Jack peeked through the small window of the heavy oak door.
"Psst!" Jack hissed. The first time he was so quiet, Sir Walter didn't hear him. Jesu, pay attention! "Psst!" he repeated even as he cringed at the louder sound.
At that Sir Walter looked up. Jack grinned at him through the opening. Leonard was keeping watch on the staircase.
Sir Walter raced over, his careworn face lighting up like a kid. Seeing him happy made Jack's nervousness disappear.
"How did you manage to get inside?" Sir Walter whispered.
"Leonard's helping me. I have a letter and a couple of books from Lady Bess for you." He first poked the folded sheet of parchment through the grill. The volumes were a tight fit, but they made it too.
"Bless you, lad." Sir Walter's eyes grew wet with moisture. "Can you stay long enough for me to write a reply?"
"I'll try."
Sir Walter broke through the seal as he hurried back to his desk. He scanned the lines, as he reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. Dipping his quill into the inkwell, he began writing.
Leonard eyed Jack nervously. "Hurry up!" he mouthed.
Jack nodded. He was so excited, he felt like he was floating. Sir Walter muttered as he scribbled. He barely took the time to sprinkle sand over the paper and waved it in the air as he rushed back to Jack.
"Tom sends his highest regards," Jack whispered. "He and Lord Northumberland are working to secure your release."
"I know, lad." His face softened. "Thank you. I'll never forget your kindness."
"Jack! We gotta leave now!" Leonard darted over and grabbed him by the jacket. "Guards on the stairs!"
Jack stowed the precious letter inside his coat. "We can hide in one of the empty cells."
They rushed to a cell with an open door and darted inside. Leonard stood in front of him, shielding him from view.
The thuds grew louder. "This will be your new home, your lordship," a rough voice said.
"Thank you, my good man. Here's a token of my gratitude." The clink of coins indicated a payment. Jack closed his eyes and prayed the guard wasn't taking the prisoner to the cell they were hiding in. The guard's torch cast a harsh light on their surroundings. The cell was empty. Surely a nobleman wouldn't be housed here.
The footsteps passed them. They sounded like they were going to a cell beyond Sir Walter's. At the creak of a door being opened, Leonard hissed, "Go! Head straight for the changing room!"
It was hard to run as fast as he wanted to and still be quiet. The cloth wrappings on his boots made the steps treacherously slick. But fear was a powerful motivator. Leonard could have been downstairs in an instant but he stayed close, breaking Jack whenever he slipped. They had to descend three flights of stairs to the room, which was, as Leonard hoped, empty. Two of the guards were upstairs with the new arrival. The others were probably outside in the courtyard.
They quickly stripped off their uniforms and armor. Underneath they were clad in thin leggings and shirts. Their outer clothes were hidden outside in a back alley. But getting to them wouldn't be easy. They'd arrived when the courtyard was deserted. It now sounded like they were conducting an outside drill.
They couldn't escape through the front, and that was the only ground-level exit.
"We'll have to hide in the cellar till the guards leave the courtyard," Leonard said.
Jack was all too familiar with the dank bowels of the Tower. They'd already hidden there for hours at a stretch when they were monitoring the guards. It had gotten to the point that Jack began naming some of the rats which were their constant companions. The place stank with refuse. Outside the fresh air kept the stench from being bothersome, but this was like living inside your gut.
The bells struck ten o'clock before finally the noise grew less. Leonard left him to reconnoiter several times. After the third attempt, he gave him the thumbs up. They were almost home-free.
Jack crept up the stairs behind Leonard. He could hear loud laughter and noises from the guardroom. Hopefully, everyone was too relaxed to pay any attention to them. The front door was open. As they snuck closer, a guard walked past the entrance.
Jack swallowed hard. There weren't any guards stationed at the door when they arrived. What now? He exchanged anxious looks with Leonard. The wearh could have simply shot through the entrance and jumped over the wall with a speed that no guard could match. But Jack was stuck.
They were now safely past the guardroom but their escape route was blocked. It was dangerous to retreat down the corridor. No one had seen them the first time, but they were tempting fate to make a second attempt.
Jack put his mouth to Leonard's ear as he slipped him the letter from Sir Walter. "You go ahead. I'll follow when I can."
Leonard shook his head vehemently. "You'll never make it on your own," he hissed.
"This was my idea. You shouldn't have to suffer because of it."
"Hey, guard!" Jack gave a start when he heard the loud voice in the courtyard. It sounded like Father H. Leonard looked horrified. That meant it was Father H, for sure. They were already in trouble, but it had just quadrupled.
"Halt!" a bass voice ordered. "State your business, priest."
"I came to warn you. There's a commotion on the street outside the gate. Ruffians are arguing about rushing the tower. I think they plan to rob the armory."
Leonard grabbed Jack's arm and they fled back to the staircase. The guard yelled for additional yeomen. The thuds of pounding boots thundered on the stone floor.
"Run!" Leonard urged as soon as the noise died away. "This is our chance."
The guardroom was temporarily emptied, but a couple of guards remained in position by the gate opening onto the street. When Jack and Leonard entered the courtyard earlier in the day, they'd scaled a wall near Traitors' Gate. That route was now blocked to them since it was too close to the guards.
Leonard directed him to the back of the courtyard. The wall in that section was even higher. Jack had to stand on Leonard's shoulders and then make a mad jump to reach the top. He clung precariously to the stones as he scrabbled with his legs to swing them on top of the ledge.
Jack scanned the empty street below. They were close to the canal which flowed under the gate, but not close enough for him to drop into the water. The embankment was paved with stones. He clung to the edge with his hands while slowly inching his way down. Leonard, of course, had already leaped down in one bound.
"I'll catch you," Leonard hissed. "Go ahead and jump."
Jack wasn't that light. There was no way Leonard could hold onto him, but he might be able to break his fall. Jack's hands were slick with sweat. He was losing his grip. He closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer.
#
Hubbard's scowl deepened as he darted around the perimeter of the Tower. It was fortunate the guards hadn't caught the scamps. He was the one who'd mete out punishment. What could have driven them to such folly? Their behavior was enough to make his blood boil—no easy feat for a coldblood.
If Hubbard hadn't had his agents spy on them, he might not have been in time. As it was, it was a near escape. The wearhs Hubbard had commandeered for the rescue thought tricking the yeomen was a clever prank. They paid off some locals to give misleading instructions to the guards. Hubbard, though, was not in a forgiving mood. Leonard and Jack would hear no laughter from him when he got his hands on them.
He tracked their scents to the wall near the canal. And there they were. Leonard's hangdog face was mirrored in Jack's expression along with a grimace of pain. Leonard was supporting the boy with an arm around his waist.
Hubbard was at their side in an instant. "How badly are you injured?"
"Just a sprain, I think," Jack said. "How did you know to come?"
Hubbard glanced up at the high wall next to them. Jack was lucky he hadn't broken his neck. "Let this be a lesson to you. I know about everything that goes on within my domain. You'll give me a full accounting, but that will wait. I don't expect you brought a boat?"
Leonard shook his head. "I can carry Jack."
"My boat's only a few yards away."
Jack's exhausted grateful smile would have melted a heart sterner than his. But Jack was no longer a child. It was far past time for him to act like it. As for Leonard, there was no excuse.
Notes: The initial inspiration for this chapter came from a comment Jack made to Matthew in The Book of Life about sneaking into the Tower of London to see Walter Raleigh. In the next chapter, Jack faces unforeseen consequences.
Scholars believe that Shakespeare's inclusion of witches in Macbeth was an attempt to curry favor with King James. I've written more on the subject in my introduction to this story on my blog. The post is called "Backdrop to Walking Shadows."
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation. For background information on the series and an introduction to the world of All Souls Trilogy, see the Six-Crossed Knot page.
Pinterest: Six-Crossed Knot board on Silbrith's Stories