A/N: Huge thanks to Princess007 for the review. I'm so pleased that you look forward to new chapters - so here's another one to enjoy!

Additional thanks (again) to everyone who is following and reading along. I really do appreciate it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

All Hands to the Pumps

It is difficult to ask Molly to assist me in the Library, as Gregory is with us as we break our fast. He is not a boy any more, and I know that he would not thank me for keeping something such as this from him; but I have no choice. We are sworn to secrecy, and he does not need to know. Not yet.

He is, not surprisingly, still deeply worried for his father, and for his extended gathering of cousins that have been evicted as he has. We say little, for what can we say? Instead, none of us eat much, but instead sit and tear at the bread stressfully, dropping crumbs everywhere. Eventually, he leaves us alone, and I am able to turn to Molly, "I need you to join us in the Library, Molly. We must search all that we can as hard as we can. Wolsey shall aid us."

She nods - for she knows that I can communicate with my predecessor, "I am not sure that there is anything in the Index that can aid us," she admits, "unless I am missing some context or other."

"Has anything new come from the House?" I ask, hopefully, and feel a sigh of relief escape as she nods again.

"A coffer arrived but a day before you did, Mr Rich." She says, "I did not have the opportunity to open it before your arrival - though I did spend some time yesterday looking through it. There are several large books, some packets of papers and a set of loose parchments. I also came across an unregarded heap of books and papers at the far end of the Library a few weeks ago - but I have not had the chance to read them as of yet."

"Then there is hope." I smile, "We might yet find that which we need to save Mr Cromwell."

"Save him?" Gregory's voice is unexpected - and I curse myself for my indiscretion, "Save my father? What do you mean?" He is standing in the doorway looking at us both with a mixture of anger, confusion and - oddly - hope.

"We are considering legal remedies, Gregory." I venture, hopefully.

He glares at me, "Do not lie to me, Mr Rich." His voice is chill, "I may not have my father's brilliance, but do not think me to be a fool. Why is it that all of his properties have been confiscated but for this one? What does it contain that must be so secure? What is the 'House'? I do not even know who you truly are - or why my father trusts you to the degree that he does. You are the Solicitor General - I know that much, and you have worked alongside my father in guiding the course of the Reformation of both Church and Government - but he does not grant his trust lightly. What have you done to earn it?"

Molly and I exchange a glance, and she rises to leave, "It is your decision, Mr Rich." I nod, and she departs.

"Sit down, Gregory." I tell him, and wait until he is seated, "What do you know of your father's work?"

"I know that he is the King's Lord Chancellor, and that, until but two weeks ago, the King trusted him absolutely. He was responsible for ensuring the good governance of this realm, and administering the King's will." He pauses, and sighs, "I know, too, that he was hated for his work by many, until the reforms he instituted began to filter down to the common people, and they saw his actions were carried out with thoughts for their benefit as much as those of higher blood."

I am relieved to hear that - for the one thing we had feared was rebellion, and I know that it came close to it in the North some months ago before the reforms for the benefit and education of the poor began to be properly implemented by the commissions. Dispatching his most trusted commissioners to conduct unannounced audits as Cranmer advised had saved us from a fearful rising, of that I am sure.

"And that is all that you know?" I ask.

Gregory nods, slowly, "I was never sure why I was asked not to mention Grant's Place when I was at home, or at Cambridge. I assumed it to contain treasure of some sort - for Father was always concerned that the King's favour might be lost, and he had no wish to leave me without means should he falter."

"It does contain a treasure, Gregory," I say, quietly, "but it is not money, or jewels, or gold. It is information."

"About what?" the youth asks, "What information would need to be kept so secret?"

"Information that could put nooses about our necks, or bind us to stakes. For it contains books that are banned, tracts that are considered so blasphemous that to merely possess them could condemn us. We move in a world that travels with that of all people - but is far more dangerous and dark. None know of it, and we do all we can to keep it that way, and to protect others from its risks."

I have no choice. Gregory is still looking at me as though I am lying to him - and I cannot ask him to keep a half-secret: to do so would insult him. I am sure that Cromwell shall forgive me; for he had intended to bring his son into royal service as soon as he had finished his studies, and in doing so, he would have had to reveal his secret to him. I am Cromwell's Second, and if he cannot tell his son himself, then it should be I.

"Gregory," I turn to face him, and look him in the eyes, "What I am about to tell you sounds ridiculous, and fantastical - but it is absolutely true. Your father is engaged in a battle against the forces of darkness that encroach the Court. He is a member of a secret order of warriors known as Silver Swords - and he bears the name 'Raven' in doing so."

Gregory looks at me steadily, but says nothing.

"As a youth, younger than you are now, he survived an assault upon a household in which he lived by a creature that was neither dead, nor alive. By the good offices of God's love, he was saved from death by another Silver Sword - who discovered your father had the ability to detect infernal creatures. Consequently, he was placed into the Order to be trained in diplomacy, languages, manners, stealth and fighting. When he left that place, he was considered to be the foremost talent the Order had seen in two centuries or more, and so was sent to the English Court, for the danger there was considered to be the most great."

"And what are you to him?" Gregory asks, apparently taking my words in good faith.

"There are very few Silver Swords, Gregory," I continue, "Many are itinerant, and seek out trouble - it was one such as these who came upon your father in his hour of need. Some, however, those who are considered the most capable, are placed in the Royal Courts of Europe. In order to assist them in their work, they are assigned a companion, known as a Second. It is their job to search out information, keep watch and assist their Silver Sword in all that they do. I am your father's Second. He has saved my life more times than I can count - and I have been privileged to return that favour. I would risk all, even my life, for his."

"Is this why he is in prison now?"

I shake my head, "No - not entirely, for those who have acted against him have done so out of jealousy over the favour he had with the King. I think that one of those involved may have done so out of a desire for revenge, however, for he was also learning at the Order when your father was there. He failed to complete his training, and was expelled, while your father earned his swords at the same time. It is a coincidence - a cruel one, but a coincidence nonetheless."

Gregory makes to speak again, but I forestall him, "I wish I could be more thorough in my explanation, for I know even now that it sounds as though I am making up stories to gull you and keep you from learning some other truth - but I cannot afford the time to tell you in better words. Time is short, and we must seek out vital information that shall aid us in bringing all the threats against England to an end in one stroke."

"Then let me help you." Gregory says, at once.

"I…" how can I refuse him? He is desperate to aid us in saving his father from a cruel fate, and even if he does not believe me, he still knows that I am working to the same end. I must do it - he does not deserve less.

"Come with me," I say, rising from my chair, "I shall show you the treasure that this house guards."

Molly is hunched over the reading desk when I bring Gregory into the Library, and she turns in surprise to see that I am not alone. As mine did, and hers did, Gregory's eyes widen at the sheer size of the library, and all that it contains. We are most fortunate that he is as academically minded as we are.

"If I did not believe you before, Sir Richard," he says, very quietly, "I do now."

I reach for my sword, "Your father gave me this, Gregory; last summer when we were faced with large hordes of demons that were being sent against us - primarily in hopes that I should be killed in the fight. He has two that are very like this - though not so highly decorated." I draw it for him, and his eyes widen at its simplicity of form, and its complexity of decoration. Molly has never seen the Damask blade either, and she is equally fascinated by it.

"What is Molly's function?" Gregory asks, suddenly, clearly wondering why she is there.

"We discovered that she has a remarkably quick mind, and a great deal of natural intelligence, Gregory." I tell him, "She is therefore apprenticed to me as a Second in training."

He nods, then frowns briefly, "Who assembled this library - my father?"

"No, his former Second did that - Cardinal Wolsey."

Again, I hear incredulity, "Wolsey?"

"Cardinal Thomas Wolsey was probably the most highly trained Second the Order had ever seen, Gregory." I explain, "He was selected and began training for the role while your father was still a youth - for none had yet been sent to the English Court following the death of Richard Crookback - who was the last Silver Sword in Royal service. When he died, and the King's father took the throne, he brought peace for the first time in many years - and thus stopped the plans of a demoness in their tracks. She has been doing all she can to end that peace, and it is to that end that we have been fighting; as she must be destroyed. We thought that Wolsey would be the one at your father's side when he faced that final battle - but it seems that it was not for him to do."

"Even though he had been so highly trained?" Gregory asks, "And I assume you had no training at all?"

"None." I agree, "I did not even know what a Silver Sword was until two years ago - when I found your father in our offices, near dead from a stab wound. But for a remarkable fluid that he carries, he would not have lived that night. Indeed, but for that fluid, I should be dead twice over."

"We shall have much to discuss when this is done."

I nod, "But it is not done yet - so we must set to work." Besides, I know that if I do not chivvy us up, then Wolsey shall almost certainly start flinging insults at me, "Molly, could you show the Index to Gregory, please? We should exhaust that before we begin working on the uncatalogued papers." I pause, "Oh, you should not be alarmed if I start to talk aloud, Gregory - for Cardinal Wolsey may be dead, but he is in Purgatory, and has been granted the facility to talk to me. I suspect he shall hear all that we say, but only I can hear him when he replies."

I return my sword to its scabbard, and set it aside, as Wolsey comments, Do you think Thomas shall thank you for telling his secret to his son?

Rather than startle my helpers by speaking aloud nearby, I head away, amidst the shelves to where the more obscure tracts are kept, "It is better that he knows now, Eminence. He can help us - and it keeps him occupied, for while I worry, I have no doubt that he worries far more. Besides, Thomas intended to induct him into royal service before the year was out, so he would have to have been told sooner or later. I should have preferred it to be Thomas that told him - but we were not granted that luxury."

Try the papers in the packet MLVI.

As I reach for the packet Wolsey indicated, he speaks again, Tell the girl not to bother with MII

"Molly," I call through.

"Yes, Mr Rich?" she asks.

"Wolsey says not to bother with MII."

"Yes, Mr Rich."

As I emerge with the papers, I can see Gregory looks most unsettled, "You did ask, Gregory." I remind him, as I take the papers to a spare space on the nearby dresser and examine them by candlelight. There seems to be little in them that is of immediate help to us, so I set it aside to take upstairs for a closer examination later on.

Now that Gregory is more acquainted with Molly's method of interrogating the Index, he begins to take over, as he has no idea where the papers are once she identifies them. In short order, we have found a means of working as quickly as we can - Gregory identifies something, Wolsey confirms or rejects it if he can remember what it contains, Molly finds it, and I examine it. Some are immediately of no use, and she returns them, while others are set in a pile for further perusal in better light.

Hunger drives us out of the Library in time for dinner, and we eat as quickly as we can before returning to the darkness again. Even as we descend, I know that we have no choice - the papers already in the library are of no help to us - we must look to the uncategorised papers again, and hope that there is something there. The only problem with that is the sheer quantity, and that we must examine them with far more care than anything in the Index, for there is no short note explaining what the papers contain, so they must be read in detail. While Wyatt has not sent a letter recently, I am aware that the Bill of Attainder must be under discussion by now - and if it is enacted, then the time we have available to us rests entirely upon the whim of the King. He might keep Cromwell locked up for months, or send him to the headsman in no more than a few days - we have no way to know.

With so much to examine, I ask Molly and Gregory to go through the uncategorised papers already present in the library, while I search through the coffer most recently received from the House. There is less there, so it is easier for me to work alone, while two pairs of eyes search the greater quantity of papers below. Wolsey cannot see inside closed books or packets, as he was relying upon his extraordinary memory in order to tell us what might be useful and what was not. As he has never seen these, he can offer us no more aid.

The papers in the coffer are numerous, and many are in Greek, which only I can read, unless Gregory has some ability with it. They cover mythical beasts, the pantheon of Greek gods, legends and tales that might, or might not, be allegorical; but there is nothing that leaps out at me as being relevant - none of the goddesses have two mouths, there is no mention of two coloured fire, or of anything that might mean something akin to 'Gemfire'. By the time Molly and Gregory emerge from the Library, barely a quarter of the way through their pile of papers, I have finished mine and found nothing. They are hungry again, as am I, so we repair to a chamber to sup. We are all tired, and our eyes are strained. My head aches, so Goodwife Dawson offers me a cup of warmed perry steeped with feverfew to ease it.

Gregory is keen to return to the library to continue to work, but I know that we would not work well now, as we are tired and strained, "No, Gregory - I should like to do the same, but it is at a point like this where we might miss the very thing that could save all. It is better to rest tonight, and resume on the morrow, for then we shall be refreshed, and my head shall - I hope - not be aching so much."

He sighs, but does not argue.

My sleep that night is broken by dreadful nightmares, dreams that show me terrible failures, death and suffering beyond any possible understanding. First I see Cromwell on the scaffold, surrounded by people shouting for his head - and he must submit. I am amongst the crowd, and I try to call out to him, but my voice makes no sound. Instead, I must watch as the executioner stumbles, and then makes four hideously failed attempts to remove Cromwell's head - until one of the guards pushes him away, snatches the axe, and finally ends it - and I wake, damp with sweat, and sit up in the dark, trembling, until my tiredness overtakes me again and I sink back amongst my pillows.

Then I am walking amongst long lines of burdened people in slow, shuffling flight from something that I cannot identify, for none will speak to me. The men seem bitter, the women miserable, the children hollow-eyed and tearful. What are they fleeing? Where are they going? None will say - except for one, and I realise that it is my own wife - who looks at me as though I am the devil. It is your fault she hisses, viciously, all of our babes are dead on the altars of she with the snakes on her hands! You did not find the Gemfire! You are to blame! And then she is gone - but I am surrounded instead by raveners. And then she is there - Lamashtu, resplendent in her victory. The Raven is dead, Second, she says, and now, so are you - and then the raveners are upon me, ripping into my body, tearing out my organs and feasting as I must watch them…

This time, I know that I scream out as I wake. I am not sure whether this is my own mind playing cruel tricks upon me, or something telling me what shall happen if I fail - though I suspect it is the former, for I do not believe in precognition. I have been so afraid of failure for so long, that perhaps it is only to be expected - but still I cannot bring myself to sleep - not again…

But I do - I must do, for the next thing I know, it is morning, I am slumped awkwardly over the pillows and there is sunlight streaming in through the dormer alongside my bed. Despite all, I am more refreshed than I expected to be, and I hope that no one heard me as I shouted in the night. Fortunately, if any did, none mention it as we break our fast, and Molly, Gregory and I return to the Library to pick up where they left off while I was working through the coffer.

The pile is discouragingly large, but there is no point in complaining, and we split it between the three of us, just as Cromwell, Wyatt and I did when we were looking for the bestiary that was claimed to offer us information about Lamashtu - but which turned out to be a book of shadows. Rather than battle with poor light, we bring the piles up into the daylight-bright chamber, and seat ourselves upon the floor.

Our progress is painfully slow, for we cannot afford to miss anything. Fortunately, most of what we have consists of individual papers, some of them short, and these are quickly checked and discarded. Cataloguing them can wait for another time - all we want is that one, vital instruction that shall tell us how to summon the Gemfire, and, hopefully, an explanation as to what it actually is.

By the time Goodwife Dawson knocks upon the door to advise us that dinner is ready, we have perhaps cleared a half of the pile, but as the other half contains the books - some of them large - this afternoon promises to be slower even than this morning. I do not admit it, nor do my fellow searchers, but I know that I am dreading the task.

Having dined on beef, bread and a sallet, I know I am not the only one to feel a sense of reluctance to have to endure dragging through the books that lie in wait for us. The papers were a simple matter, but these shall require endless concentration, for we cannot afford to miss even the smallest hint that might lead us to the help we seek.

The light is starting to fade in the late afternoon as Gregory stops and frowns, concentrating upon something.

"What is it?" I ask, trying not to sound as desperately hopeful as I feel.

"A note in the margin of this book, Sir Richard." He advises, "It seems to have no relevance to the text - as though the writer placed it there for want of anywhere else to write it."

"What does it say?" I prompt, rather unnecessarily.

"In manibus Corvus et succendetur et igneous hostium premum tenebris lumen." He does not translate, for he knows I understand Latin, and Molly is also proficient, though she frowns as he has spoken rather more quickly than she is used to, so I translate for her, "In the hands of the Raven, the two fires shall burn and the light shall chase out the dark."

Her eyes widen, as she realises the significance of the words, and her excitement matches mine. It cannot be anything else but that which we have been seeking. In the hands of the Raven, the two fires shall burn. The Raven is Cromwell, the fires are the jewels - the light that chases out the dark must - must - be the Gemfire. Did not Cassandra say that only the Gemfire could destroy Lamashtu? In a single sentence, Gregory has told me all that I needed to know. I must secure Red Fire and Blue Fire, and give them to Cromwell - in his hands, they shall form this strange Gemfire, and he shall defeat Lamashtu once and for all. We have it - oh dear God, we have it…

I am on my feet, and so is Molly, and we are all but dancing in our excitement at the discovery. Even at our feet, Gregory is laughing - for it seems such a magnificent victory, even though we have done nothing more than find the instruction. Actually carrying out the plan is entirely another matter.

"What must we do now, Mr Rich?" Molly asks, excitedly.

"I must find a way to obtain the jewels Red Fire and Blue Fire," I tell her, "The Queen can assist me in that - and so can Mr Wyatt. Then we must find a way to get into the Tower, and hand the two jewels to Mr Cromwell…" and my voice fades. God, it sounds so simple - but I know it cannot possibly be. I cannot get into the Tower - I should need a warrant to do so, and who would give me such a thing?

No. No - I shall not kill our victory, small though it is, with such thoughts. We should revel in it tonight, and the practicalities are something I can consider tomorrow. It is too late to send a message to Wyatt today anyway - so I can draft it in the morning, and dispatch it via the hand of the butcher's boy. He can then plan with the Queen, and we can set all in motion to destroy Lamashtu - we are so close to winning…so close…

Our supper is celebratory, though we are all dreadfully dusty from having to replace all the papers back in the Library before we came out of the Chamber in which it lies. I am still refusing to think about the plans that I must make in the morning - that we have reached the point that we have is further than we have gone in all the time that I have been searching, and I have no doubt that Cromwell shall be most delighted that it was Gregory who found the words that shall prove our salvation.

We are sharing a pitcher of hippocras when there is a knock at the door, and Goodwife Dawson's face when she enters the chamber in which we have supped is one of bemusement, for she is not alone. Wyatt is with her.

"Tom?" I ask, confused - God, please don't say that he has had to flee the palace, too…

"I had to come myself, Richard," He says, then stops, as he sees Gregory at the table.

"Speak, Tom - he knows all, here, sit down." I guide him to a nearby chair.

"I cannot stay here tonight - there is an Inn nearby that I shall use instead," he says, "but I could not put this in a letter - for I know it shall inspire questions."

"What is it, Mr Wyatt?" Gregory asks - for he has met Wyatt as well as I. From his face, I think he has guessed what I am also beginning to suspect myself.

"I bring grave news, Richard. I'm sorry Gregory, though I am glad that I can tell you as well, rather than leave you at the mercy of rumours and gossip." He turns back to me, "The Bill of Attainder has passed - and it is now an Act. As of this moment, all of Thomas's property belongs to the Crown, and he is stripped of all honours granted to him. It has been agreed that he shall die a traitor's death, though at this moment it is not known whether that shall be hanging, drawing and quartering, burning - for he is also condemned as a heretic - or whether his Majesty shall commute the sentence to beheading. I suspect that he shall do so, but nonetheless, the warrant is being prepared, and Thomas's life is now in the hands of the King."

I cannot move, nor can I speak. Beside me, Gregory utters a faint groan, and Molly is quickly beside him to offer what support she can. I feel as though my legs shall give way beneath me - we had come so close - but how on earth can we act now? What if the King decrees that Thomas die in a matter of days? Might he wait longer? How can we know?

"Her Majesty promised me that she shall do all that she can to persuade the King to wait - though her influence is limited, and I shall do all that I can, too - but again I can do little."

"I have the answer…" I whisper, faintly, "I know what to do with the gems…I must speak to her Majesty, for I need her help…" then I drop back into my chair again, weakly.

"Give me the message, Richard - you cannot return to the Palace. I shall pass it to the Queen tomorrow."

No. It must be in your hands, Richard. Wyatt cannot replace you. The jewels must be placed in the hands of the Second by the one who shall save all. From that point any can carry them - but it is her blessing, and your loyalty, that are key to what follows."

"What?" I say, aloud, for Wolsey has spoken again - how did he know that? Did it come to him because we found what we did?

"I shall pass your message onto…"

"No, Tom - not you. Wolsey said something. The gems have to be given to me by the Queen - not to you. After that, it doesn't matter - but she has to give them to me herself." I pause for a moment, "But that was not mentioned in the marginalia, Eminence - how do you know that?"

I continue to break rules. Cassandra knows you have found it, and what must be done. There is, after all, a Greater Good to be maintained.

"He has managed to speak to Cassandra - the other Second we know of." I explain to Wyatt, who is bemused and awaits an explanation for Wolsey's interruption.

"But there is still the problem of transferring the Jewels - the Queen cannot leave the Palace - not without all knowing."

I turn to Wyatt, "Then I shall have to go back."