The Silver Skull

CHAPTER 25

s the dark of the close swallowed Nathaniel up, from behind came a chilling howl that ended in the sounds of a beast at slaughter. Will's voice rang out, as defiant as ever, the words lost beneath the bestial roars, and then there was only a distant silence against which Nathaniel's running feet sounded like whip-cracks.

His head still spun from the knock it had taken when the carriage crashed over, but he was resolute. Will had survived so many close encounters with death, Nathaniel had long since learned there was no point wasting time worrying about what might be. Instead, Will had trusted him with a matter of great import to England, and he would not let his friend down.

Slipping the amulet into his pocket, he sped on into the unfamiliar city. It was the easiest way to lose himself, the closes and wynds ran out from the king's High Street like the tiny spikes along the spine of a fish bone, numerous, narrow, dark, filthy, and rat-infested. If he reached out both arms he could touch the walls on either side, the buildings soaring up so high that only a tiny patch of star-sprinkled sky was visible. No moonlight reached the ground. Excrement and urine sloshed under his feet, thrown from the surrounding houses, and rotting domestic refuse was piled everywhere, seething with rats.

Pausing to catch his breath, Nathaniel leaned against the wall and looked back to see if the dog was pursuing him. Instead, he saw silhouetted figures searching near the entrance to the close.

As the figures darted into the dark close, an inexplicable fear overwhelmed Nathaniel, greater than he should have felt with Spanish agents at his back. Instinctively, he recognised there was something more here, and much that Will was not telling him.

Although he ran on in the gloom, his pursuers were remarkably fleetfooted. He could hear them searching the doorways and other potential hiding places as they passed, yet still they drew nearer; he was sure he would not be able to outrun them. What, then, when he broke out of the other end of the close and into the open?

"Quick! Tell me. They are coming?"

Nathaniel jumped at the voice, and was surprised to see a grey-haired old woman crouching in a doorway, peering back along the close.

"There are enemies at my back, yes," Nathaniel hissed.

"Enemies. That is a good word for them." The old woman peered at him with black eyes, her brow knotted, but whatever she saw appeared to convince her for she threw open the door to her hovel and urged him inside.

From the room, a rectangle of light flooded out into the close like a beacon. Behind, Nathaniel heard the voices of his pursuers rise up.

"They will know where I am!" Nathaniel said.

"Inside! Now!"

Torn, Nathaniel hesitated until the woman grabbed him with a strength that belied her age and dragged him inside. The door slammed shut behind them. Hastily, the woman poured a fragrant line of salt and chopped herbs along the doorstep, and then ducked down to floor level, urging Nathaniel to do the same. He saw a row of charms hanging above the door and along the length of the wall, animal bones, twisted pieces of metal, feathers, and painted jewellery.

"They will sense you are somewhere nearby, but they will not know where," the woman whispered. "And even if they come to the door they will not be able to enter."

"Have you lost your senses?" Nathaniel hissed. "They saw the light! They will be inside in an instant!"

The woman waved him silent as running footsteps slowed outside. Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat as he glimpsed movement along the gap beneath the door. He estimated there were three or four people outside, moving slowly along the close, pausing every now and then to listen. One hesitated outside the door, slow breaths clear in the silence. With widening eyes, Nathaniel focused on the door handle, waiting for it to turn. Silently, he mouthed a prayer.

After a moment when he thought his heart would burst, his pursuer moved on, and the running feet continued along the close until they faded from hearing. Bowing his head in relief, Nathaniel inhaled a gulp of air.

When he had recovered, he snapped at the woman, "We were fortunate. You could have doomed me. Believing in your magic!" He indicated the charms with contempt.

The woman narrowed her eyes at him with equal contempt. "I saved your life. You are a fool if you think otherwise. They prey on our people continually. Do you think we have not found ways to keep them at bay?"

Nathaniel snorted, although the woman's words caused unsettling ripples deep in his mind that he refused to contemplate. As he turned to examine the room, Nathaniel saw they were not alone. Twelve other adults crouched along the far wall, their faces pale and fearful. There was a baby, and children of all ages, too, all dressed in poor clothes, their hollow cheeks detailing their daily struggle for survival. But they, and their house, were clean, and the woman had offered Nathaniel the hand of friendship, even at risk to herself.

"I apologise for my poor manners," Nathaniel said to her with a bow. "You gave me refuge, and it is a truth, I think, that you saved my life. I am very grateful."

"Apology accepted." The woman hauled her old bones to a chair near the range.

"I will arrange for my master to send you a reward-"

She shook her head forcefully. A cold eye warned him not to continue.

"Then I will be on my way," he said.

"Are you in your cups?" One of the men bounded forwards and grabbed Nathaniel's arm forcefully. "They are still out there."

"I can slip back the way I came-"

"They can see a rabbit in a field ten miles distant. They can hear the breaking of an ear of corn from the same. They can smell the sweat of your fear on the wind."

Nathaniel tried to laugh off the man's concern, but there was no humour in his drawn face.

"You do not know what hunted you?" the man asked warily.

"Spanish agents."

He laughed contemptuously and spat on the floor. "They are-"

"Hush!" the old woman shouted. "We do not talk of them! Once they notice you, your time is done."

Hesitating, Nathaniel pieced together the woman's words. "You say they are-?"

"Hush," the woman said quietly, turning her attention to the pot bubbling on the range so she did not have to meet Nathaniel's eye.

"You are welcome to stay for a bowl and some bread." The man's voice had the unsettling sympathy of an adult talking to a child who had not grasped that a relative had died.

"Yes ... thank you," Nathaniel replied, feeling a weight growing on his shoulders. "But I must reach a house in Cowgate."

"At dawn," the man said. "It will not be safe then, but it will be easier. For now, take your rest on our bed in the back room. We will call you when the food is ready."

His thoughts racing, Nathaniel allowed himself to be guided into the dark rear room. As he sat on the bed, listening to the dim, restrained talk through the door, his thoughts returned to the time in his life when everything changed. He was nineteen, and had been offered work as an apprentice in the nearest town, to start three weeks hence. His lodgings had been found, and his plans made, and then he had woken suddenly in the night to find his father missing.