The Silver Skull (48 page)

Should he attempt to dispatch Hawksworth before the traitor acted, he wondered, or would that cause even more problems as the Spanish officers searched for the culprit?

His ruminations were disrupted by the sight of a storm sweeping in from the ocean.

Lightning crackled in furious jagged bursts along the horizon, and as the wind gusted into the harbour, the ships bucked and rolled on the swell. The lanterns hanging outside the taverns swung wildly, the leaping shadows distorting the faces of those who waited. When the rain began to lash in horizontally, they gave up waiting for the officers who were supposed to be bringing their orders and fled into one of the taverns for shelter.

While the rest of the crew became progressively drunk on the local wine, Will stood at the window and watched the storm grow in intensity. The flashes of lightning revealed the ships at sea rising up on mountains before disappearing beneath a roll of black.

After a while other lights appeared in the sky, painting the roiling clouds in the colours that Will had witnessed over the ship with the grey sails. Was the Unseelie Court attempting to protect the fleet from nature's fury?

"Philip has sent his Armada against England knowing that his enemy has greater experience and more skilled commanders and refusing all the entreaties of his advisors."

Hawksworth loomed at Will's shoulder, looking out across the harbour to the eerie wash of light.

"Everyone told Philip not to send the Armada at this time," he continued, "but still he persevered.

He stated his belief that God is on the side of the Spanish, and wherever weaknesses arise, God will help the Spanish overcome them. The confident hope of a miracle, he calls it. But consider this, Master Prowd. What if Philip does not put his faith in God after all? What if that sly king knows more than he says?"

Will watched the lights slowly die away until only impenetrable darkness remained.

"What if, instead, Philip has sided with the Devil, and England's sea forces face an infernal surprise that will destroy them? Out there, hidden among the fleet, is something beyond belief, waiting to be used."

"You know of these things for certain?" Will asked. Could Malantha have gifted the Armada with some secret weapon?

Hawksworth leaned in close so his hot breath warmed Will's ear. "Death waits ahead, and no one will be able to hide from its touch."

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00068.jpg-REPLACE_ME

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00032.jpg-REPLACE_ME lambering onto the deck of the Santiago, The Ship of Women, Will knew he had no more than five minutes to find Grace before the guards came hunting for him. On the gentle swell of the harbour below, the other men of the reprovisioning team struggled to prepare the barrels to be hauled up from the rowboat, red-faced and sweating in the heat of the day.

He was taking a tremendous risk. If he was found among the women he was likely to be flogged, or even killed by an officer defending his wife's honour, but it had taken a great effort to get assigned to the work group delivering provisions to the Santiago and it was unlikely he would get another chance.

At the rail, neither of the sentries paid him much attention, preferring to argue quietly over Medina Sidonia's decision to continue with the invasion despite the damage wreaked on the fleet by the storm. Will sensed they were both on the brink of desertion.

Easing out of their line of vision, he slipped quietly away. He tried to appear insignificant, but there were eyes everywhere. Medina Sidonia had posted infantry along the entire quay and throughout the city to prevent any more of the many desertions that had afflicted the Armada.

The mood across the fleet had been increasingly desperate since the storm. That night, the ships left at sea had been forced to run in the face of the tempest. Some suffered shattered mainmasts and rudders torn free, while others had limped to shelter further along the coast; thirty ships, including several galleons, had been missing for weeks.

Four days after the storm, Medina Sidonia had called another council of war. After a missive from Philip, the duke and his followers felt they had no choice but to wait in Corunna until the missing ships had been found, repairs had been carried out, and the entire fleet reprovisioned. The last ship hadn't returned until July 15.

For Will, the long wait was interminable. The Spanish commanders kept the men working hard under the hot sun, but his thoughts turned continually to Grace, the shadow that was falling across England, and the brooding threat of the Unseelie Court working their mysterious schemes just out of sight. Time and again he had been despatched into the dusty countryside as one of a team searching out wood for new barrels for provisions, until he thought he would go mad with the boredom.

At least the frantic repairs and reprovisioning provided some cover in the cluttered harbour. Everyone was even busier now the order to sail had been issued. When he saw an opportunity to search the Santiago, he took it with relief.

At the top of the steps leading below deck, Will glanced around quickly. No one was watching. He moved quickly into the stifling dark.

The Santiago was the oldest ship in the fleet, a six-hundred-ton hulk, flatbottomed with a spacious hold, but clumsy at sea, and one of the drags on the Armada's speed and efficiency.

Will had earlier glimpsed the women moving about on deck like ravens as they took the sea air in their black dresses and caps, but they had been ordered below rather than allow them to remain in full view of sailors who had been starved of comfort for so long. Yet in all the time he had been with the Armada he had never caught sight of Grace. Was she even there?

Below deck, the women had attempted to provide some comfort in their meagre quarters with bunches of dried lavender and muslin bags of rose petals everywhere. Sheets had been strung from ropes across the hold to provide a modicum of privacy.

When he appeared at the foot of the creaking steps, the curtains shifted as suspicious eyes inspected him. Puzzled mutterings rolled around the dark space and for a moment he was afraid the alarm would be raised, but from the glances he received from some of the younger women, he could tell they had been starved of comfort as much as the men. They flashed quick, nervous smiles and held his gaze a moment too long. Even the older wives occasionally let their gaze linger, though they maintained severe or sombre expressions and muttered angrily about his presence in their midst.

As the hull rang with the sound of barrels banging up the side of the ship, he realised time was running out and took the risk of asking one of the young wives where he could find an Englishwoman. Shyly, she guided him to the back of the living quarters where an area had been curtained off with several sheets of sailcloth.

Will pushed through the final sheet, and there was Grace, hugging her knees in one corner, a chain fastened to one ankle and affixed to the hull. She was not wearing the Silver Skull.

His relief palpable, he grabbed her and held her tightly for a moment. Her shock gave way to a rush of silent emotion, but after a moment she pulled back, her eyes blazing. She jabbed a finger towards him and fumed, "`Kill the king'?"

"Grace-"

"Have you come to finish the job? Where is your knife?" She thrust her chest towards him and framed her heart with her hands. "There. Does that make it easier?"

"Grace-"

"Òh, yes, I will protect you, Grace. Until it comes to a hard choice and then I will blithely toss you to the wolves."'

"You are alive, are you not?" he snapped.

"No thanks to you."

"Months apart and your first instinct is to scold me like a child? You are the most infuriating woman I know."

"I can give you your due reward once we are away from here. How will you free me from this chain?" With frustration, she gave it a yank then let it clatter to the boards.

"This is not the time," he began hesitantly.

She gave a sarcastic sigh. "Of course not."

"We are in the middle of the enemy's fleet. There is no chance of escaping with our lives at this time."

"Then how did you get here?"

"I am now William Prowd, a mercenary in the employ of Philip of Spain. Trust me, Grace. When the time is right-"

"Oh, yes, I trust you. Of course. When the time is right. In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy the indignities heaped upon me."

Will took a breath to steady himself. "Have you been ill treated?" he said, pronouncing every word carefully.

"Don Alanzo has treated me well, apart from chaining me like a dog." She sniffed.

Will took her face in his hands and examined her eyes. Deep within was a hint of whatever subtle control Malantha had exerted over her at El Esco rial. Although she was not in the Unseelie Court's thrall at that moment, they still planned to use her in their plot, and then her life would be forfeit.

"What has happened to the Silver Skull?" he asked. "Don Alanzo intended to make you its bearer."

She explained how Don Alanzo had fixed the mask to Mayhew on the carriage ride from El Escorial.

"Then perhaps there is still some honour within him," Will said. "Now, I have but little time here before I am discovered. You must tell me quickly what you have learned during your time with Don Alanzo. He speaks with you?"

"He visits me to enquire after my well-being and if I have any needs, and on those occasions, we pass the time, if not as friends then as people who share a bond." Her face darkened. "A bond of suffering."

"Do you know where Mayhew is? Hidden on the flagship?"

She shook her head. "He was taken aboard a ship with grey sails. It appeared deserted. I have not seen its kind before."

"Then I must board that grey-sailed ship and see for myself," Will said, knowing exactly what that statement entailed. "Mayhew is the architect of much of the misery we have experienced. He will pay dearly for his crimes."

The clattering of the barrels continued, accompanied by a bout of shouting and cursing.

Soon they would come looking for him.

"Don Alanzo did not tell me his plans," Grace continued, "but he was unguarded in some of his comments. He does not see me as a threat, and he knows there is nothing I can do until the Spanish plot bears fruition. There is some hidden weapon-"

"The Silver Skull?"

"No, another. Something that will be used when the Spanish fleet encounters our English ships. Don Alanzo appeared troubled when he realised he had mentioned it. It seemed to me that this was a secret even the Spanish officers did not know ... something of which only Don Alanzo and a few others were aware."

"Spies are privy to many secrets denied the common man. That is our benefit and our burden," Will replied. "He said no more? What it was? Where it is held?"

She shook her head.

"Any more regarding the Spanish invasion plans?"

"No." After a brief pause, she added, "I asked him about jenny."

Will flinched. "Why would you ask Don Alanzo about her?"

"I know your work is in some way connected to jenny's disappearance, or so you think. If she was taken by Spanish spies, you would not tell me, for fear I would rush to Walsingham, or the queen herself, and demand we do all we can do to gain her return, even if it be war."

"And what did Don Alanzo say?" he asked.

"He sat down, here, and listened carefully to all my pleadings. He knew something, or he would not have listened."

"He knows nothing. Don Alanzo understands the world in which we operate, that is all."

"He told me he would make enquiries as to her well-being." Tears stung her eyes, and in them was a hint of accusation that Will had not done enough.

The clattering outside ended and silence descended on the ship. "I must go. We shall talk of this later," he said.

"And when will that be?" she asked tartly. "I would plan my swooning."

"Soon."

"I heard the order to put back to sea. Do you wait until we make land, which means England will have fallen, and our lives will amount to nothing? Or do we go down at sea under the weight of English cannon?"

"Trust me. I will do everything in my power to help you."

Relenting, she gave an exasperated nod. He squeezed her hand and an uneasy moment passed between them, before he stepped past the sailcloth and hurried back through the living quarters.

Back on deck, one of his fellows, a gruff Spaniard, angrily accused him of slacking. A fight brewed until the guards stepped in and urged the Spanish seaman over the side to the rowboat.

As Will waited to follow, a shadow loomed over him. It was Hawksworth; he'd been out of sight somewhere on deck, and must have arrived after Will.

How much did he see? Will wondered.

His answer came when Hawksworth leaned in and whispered, "I know who you are,"

before sweeping away across the deck.

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00139.jpg-REPLACE_ME

SPECIAL_IMAGE-00106.jpg-REPLACE_ME itting in tense silence on the rowboat back from the Santiago, Will watched the quayside for guards ready to arrest him, but every man was occupied with the frantic reprovisioning of the fleet. Why hadn't Hawksworth brought men to The Ship of Women? Why had he risked whispering to Will in the certain knowledge that Will could have slit his throat and attempted to make good his escape there and then?

Once the boat was tied up, Will uneasily joined the throng hauling barrels out of the warehouses while he tried to decide on a course of action. It was easy to lose himself in the swirl of noisy activity. New barrels were still being constructed amid a clatter of hammers, before they were lowered with grunts and curses into every available rowboat.

No one came for him. It made no sense, unless Hawksworth had a grander scheme in mind. But what could that be?

For the rest of the day, Will scanned his surroundings, the groups of stone-faced infantry, even the dark interiors of taverns and stores, but there was not even a furtive glance from the Spanish officers, no hint that anyone was the wiser about his true identity.

He was torn, but there was too much at stake to flee. Finally he decided to continue as planned and hope he could deny any allegation Hawksworth made. Once back on the Rosario, he acted as normally as possible, exchanging lewd banter with Barrett and Stanbury as he went about his allotted tasks. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of Hawksworth, but the traitor gave no sign that anything had passed between them. That puzzled Will even more.