Deception (14 page)

“Are we to go back now, Grace, and tell the Queen?” Ellie said hopefully. She looked frozen to the marrow.

“No,” I said firmly, trying to keep the boat and its lantern in sight. “We must follow Harry back to his sled and see where he delivers the coins.”

“By Allah, this rowing gets harder!” Masou said, looking winded.

“That's probably because we're going against the tide,” Ellie puffed.

I suddenly realized that my feet were getting very cold … and wet. “The boat's leaking!” I could find nothing to use to bail out the icy water so I had to pull off my gloves and make do with my cupped hands. It was not easy as I was so cramped. “Can't you row any faster?” I urged. “I am losing all feeling in my fingers and Harry's almost out of sight!”

“We are rowing like galley slaves as it is,” Masou got out.

“The water's up to my ankles!” Ellie yelped. “Bail harder, Grace!”

“I can't!” I wailed. “The river is winning! You must make for the bank. We'll have to do the rest on foot. If we haven't lost him, that is.”

With great difficulty, Masou and Ellie swung the boat round and we headed for the shore. The water was beginning to lap over the gunwales now and it looked as if we were going to sink. I could feel the freezing water slopping in my boots.

Then, as we drew near to a landing stage, Masou stood up in the boat and grabbed at the wooden struts. “Make haste, ladies!” he said. “Climb up here.”

We did as he said, and clung fast to the side of the
stage, our feet slipping on the slimy wooden supports underneath us. My kirtle and cloak felt as heavy as lead as I pulled myself out of the boat. Ellie was soon by my side. We turned and saw the rowing boat slowly disappearing into the dark water.

“Where's Masou?” Ellie cried in alarm.

“Here,” came a voice from above our heads.

Masou was already on the stage and holding out his hands to help us up. We crept—or rather, squelched—along the landing stage to the wharf, making sure we avoided the old man who had hired us the boat. Ellie was all for going to demand her coins back, so we had to drag her along the quayside.

“Which way now?” I asked as we peered into the dark, gloomy streets.

“I see the lantern!” exclaimed Masou. “A little way up yonder.”

“I thought he'd be well away by now,” said Ellie, wringing out her wet skirts.

“Don't forget he is burdened down with the false coins,” Masou reminded her. “He cannot move too quickly.”

We followed Harry back to the west side of the bridge and sheltered behind a buttress, putting on
our skates, while he got his sled out of its hiding place and loaded the sacks on.

His pace across the ice was much slower. Now we needed to hang back, for the moon was free of cloud and the Thames well lit.

“Where is he going?” Masou asked. It was the question I am sure we were all asking ourselves.

“Back to his cottage?” Ellie suggested.

“I don't think so,” I told her. “Remember he has been making runs night after night. There must be quite a hoard of coins by now. It would be hard to hide all that from the widow Stubbs and her children.”

“And even his wife didn't seem to know what he was about,” added Ellie.

“The freeze must have made the counterfeiters change their plans,” I said, banging my poor frozen hands together. “Harry must have used his boat before the river froze—and then had to quickly make a sled.” I reflected that Harry must be brave indeed to regularly shoot down London Bridge, for the river flows very fast as it spills through the arches of the bridge, and it takes great skill and courage to take a boat through those rapids.

“He scares me!” exclaimed Ellie.

Masou suddenly grasped my arm. “He's changing course!”

The waterman had gone past Temple Steps and was now heading for some stone stairs beyond.

We hung back while he unloaded the sled, lifted the sacks onto his shoulders, and climbed up the stairs to a huge wall. He pushed open a door in the wall and disappeared inside.

We skated over to the stairs. I tried to get my bearings in the moonlight. “I think this must be one of the large houses in the Strand,” I said. “All their grounds run down to the river and they each have a landing stage.”

We took off our skates, shoved them in Masou's bag, and climbed the slippery steps.

Further along the bank there was an ornate iron gate in the wall. I recognized it. “I'm right,” I whispered, “for beyond that gate is Somerset House, which belongs to the Queen, and I know that to be on the Strand.” I had been there once for a masque—we had travelled from Hampton Court by royal barge. “I have no idea who lives here,” I added. “But it could be the leader of the counterfeiters. And there is only one way to find out.”

I pushed open the door in the wall and we slipped inside to find ourselves in a knot garden, which was
overgrown and covered in unswept leaves. I marched up to the huge carved door of the house and raised my hand to the knocker.

Masou caught my arm and held it firmly. “You cannot go up to a grand house at this time of night, looking so dishevelled and talking in your fine voice, without arousing suspicion,” he said with a grin. “Mayhap 'tis another chance for you to be a tongue-tied half-wit—for you do it so well, Grace.”

He moved on before I had a chance to give him a clever reply. It was as well—I couldn't think of one just then.

“We shall go to the kitchen door and I shall beg for alms,” he told us.

“But begging's unlawful!” Ellie's eyes were wide. “We'll be thrown into Bridewell.”

“Not us,” Masou said, sounding full of courage. “We're too nimble on our feet to end up in prison. At the first sniff of trouble we'll run!”

So the three of us went round the side of the house, past many windows, all in darkness, and up to the kitchen door. Masou knocked loudly.

The door was opened by a thin youth holding a candle. He looked familiar to me but I couldn't place where I knew him from.

“Greetings, fine sir,” Masou said, putting on a
feeble voice. “We are poor folk and are come to beg a favour of the master of this house. Tell me, who is your master?”

The boy puffed out his chest. “Why, I am in the service of—”

At this moment Harry Stubbs appeared. He pushed past the boy to take his leave.

I stepped back quickly to keep my face hidden in the shadows.

“What's going on here?” Harry asked suspiciously, seeing Masou, Ellie, and me on the doorstep.

“Beggars,” answered the boy.

“None of my business, then,” Harry said roughly.

He was about to go past without a word, when his lantern lit my face. “I know you!” he growled. “I know you from somewhere.” He thrust his horrible, unshaven face close to mine.

I could smell the onions he'd had for his dinner and I'll warrant his teeth had never seen a tooth-cloth.

Masou began to step backwards, pulling Ellie and me with him. “No, good sir, you are mistaken. We are strangers to this city.”

“I know who you are!” roared Harry, jabbing a
finger in my direction. “You're that meddling Maid from the palace who came asking questions about my brother!” He reached out to grab at me, but Masou and Ellie got in his way.

“Run, Grace!” yelled Masou.

I turned to make a dash for it, but the young boy was too quick for me. He caught me, pinned my arms behind my back, and dragged me back to the door and into the hall beyond. I yelled and squirmed in his grasp but he was stronger than he looked.

Harry had Masou and Ellie tightly grasped in his huge hands. He pulled them inside, too, then kicked the door shut with a thump. “Come on, Sam,” he growled. “We'll get these little spies shut up and deal with them later. Not a word to the master when 'e gets here, mind. 'E won't want to hear there's been trouble.”

We were dragged along the passageway, through a kitchen where a feeble fire glowed in a grate, and up a creaky old spiral staircase. Then we were taken into a chamber and thrown into a large cupboard. We heard a key turn in the lock. Footsteps faded away, and then there was silence.

It was dark as pitch. We lay in a pile, sore and battered from our manhandling. I think I had it the
worst for I was underneath, and lying on something hard. “What are we going to do?” I said, trying to keep the despair out of my voice. I wished I could get to my feet.

“I dunno,” came Ellie's voice. It sounded bleak.

Masou was muttering to himself.

“Stop fidgeting, you silly boy!” Ellie groaned. “Let me get up. You may not be able to see it, but that was me eye you nearly poked out!”

“Forgive me, sweet Ellie,” I heard Masou say calmly, “but I nearly have it— Yes!”

There was a flash and a small light appeared.

“It is always wise to travel with a tinder box and a candle!” Masou announced smugly. It wasn't the brightest of lights but it felt as if the sun had come out.

Masou held the candle stub up with one hand and helped me to my feet with the other.

We looked around at the inside of our tiny prison. The floor was covered in sacks. Some had fallen open, and in the candlelight we could see the gleam of silver coins!

I scooped up a handful and examined them closely.

“These look identical to the ones placed on Will Stubbs's eyes!” I exclaimed, throwing them down. “I
think we have found the counterfeit coins. And if by chance they are genuine, then they are the Queen's new design and they should certainly be at the Tower.”

“But the counterfeiters have found us!” Ellie said grimly. “And their master will be at the house soon.”

“We must escape and get back to Court straight away,” I decided, “and without the villains knowing. If we can lead Mr. Hatton and the Gentlemen of the Queen's Guard back here in time, they can catch the miscreants and their master red-handed. But how are we going to get out of this prison? Ouch! That was my foot you just trod on, Masou. What are you doing?”

Masou was fidgeting again. “I am working on our escape,” he said with a grin. He fiddled in his pocket and triumphantly produced a thin, pointed bone. “This is my toothpick. The Queen ate swan last night, and the leftovers were the devil for my teeth. But I had not thought I would have need of the toothpick again so soon.”

I leaned over and watched as he inserted the bone into the lock. “You are clever, Masou.”

“I know,” he agreed. “It is a gift. Now hold the candle stub up for me and we shall be out of here before you can say ‘silver sixpence'!”

I did as he asked.

He wriggled the bone in the lock but nothing happened.

“So what's your next great idea, O Gifted One?” Ellie demanded. “Whatever it is, make it soon—they could be back at any minute.”

“Patience!” Masou chided. He gave the bone another twist.

“Something went click! You're getting there!” I exclaimed.

“Shhh!” Masou frowned. “I need to listen.”

There was a small rasping sound from the lock. Then a loud clunk. We all held our breath, hoping no one in the house had heard.

Masou gently pushed the door and it swung open. He cautiously peered out. “Follow me,” he whispered.

We crept out and into the chamber. It was lit only by the moonlight filtering in through the window-panes.

Masou held up his spluttering candle, making our shadows move eerily on the walls. The room was bare of furniture and smelled damp and musty.

“This is most strange,” I said. “I believed these houses to be owned by the wealthy, yet I could think
this was the house of a pauper. Look at the peeling wallpaper—and not a portrait in sight.” My mind was racing. Whose house could this possibly be? Who was the master Harry Stubbs had spoken of?

I peeped out through the dirty window. I could just make out the knot garden. We were two storeys above it. There would be no climbing out and escaping from here. “We must get downstairs,” I said. “But not the way we came up. It would be too creaky and give us away.”

In single file we slowly made our way towards an open gallery. Here there was a large stone staircase. We stopped and listened, but it seemed that, apart from the kitchen, the house was as good as empty, and we reached the bottom of the two flights undetected. We found ourselves in the dark entrance hall. It was hung with cobwebs and there were no rushes or sweet herbs on the tiled floor, and no furnishings save for a battered old chest. We could see chambers on either side of the hall and the huge carved door ahead of us.

“Not that way,” Masou whispered. “It could be guarded. There must be a window to the side of the house.” He moved towards the chamber on the left, silent as a cat.

Ellie and I had started to follow when we heard footsteps approaching. Masou snuffed out his light and darted away through the doorway. I pulled Ellie down behind the chest with me. I felt myself shivering, and I don't think it was just the cold. I peeked round the edge of the chest.

The shadowy figures of three men came into view. The first held a candle and strode angrily along, while the second, a much larger man, was dragging a third, bound figure behind him. They stopped close to us. Now I could see their faces in the flickering candlelight and I felt relief suddenly flood over me. The man with the candle was Sir Edward Latimer! Somehow he must have found out about the counterfeiters already, for his prisoner was Harry Stubbs, squirming in the grip of Sir Edward's burly attendant.

I must have misjudged Sir Edward, I thought, for this was no milksop who cringed under bedclothes and went faint at the mention of a dead body. This was a man who had foiled a counterfeiter's plot and that took some bravery!

I was about to leave my hiding place and tell him about the money upstairs in the cupboard when he spoke.

“Bring the fool here, Tyler!” he said.

There was something in his manner that made me hesitate. His voice was harsh and cruel and almost unrecognizable. I didn't move.

The attendant pushed Harry forwards so roughly that he fell onto the tiles.

“You miserable dolt, Stubbs!” growled Sir Edward, giving him a vicious kick which made him groan. “Your blundering has put me in danger. It is lucky the boy told me of our uninvited guests, for you would have kept your carelessness a secret from me. Do you not understand the meaning of secrecy? The counterfeit money was supposed to be kept hidden until it was time to release it amongst the Queen's genuine new coins. But thanks to you I might as well have shouted my doings from St. Paul's tower for all to hear! You have failed me from start to finish. I should have got rid of you after you let slip to your brother what we were doing. 'Tis a pity my arrow this night struck the bollard and not your cowardly chest.”