The Cat’s Eye Shell (3 page)

‘A secret passage!'

The priest turned towards the duke. ‘Aye, my lord. This is a very old castle, as you know, and it has seen many years of war and strife. It is a great, noble family that lived here, and one that has suffered terribly for its loyalty to Rome. They've lost their heads on the block, been locked up in the Tower and poisoned, they've had their castle knocked down …'

‘What has all this to do with secret passages?' Lord Harry demanded.

Father Plummer looked grave. ‘For a family to remain faithful to the one true religion in such dreadful times, they must always keep one step ahead of their enemies. Many, many years ago a tunnel was dug, slowly and with great secrecy, so that the folk of the castle could escape if need be. Only a few people know about the passage. I am one of them.'

‘Why you?' Lord Harry asked sceptically.

‘I've spent a great deal of my time in the last few years in one priest-hole or another,' Father Plummer answered simply. ‘When Arundel Castle was besieged by General Sir William Waller, I was here. They knew I'd die horribly if I was caught, and so I was smuggled out of the castle, through this secret passage I'm telling you about. Only a few of us got out. There were more than a thousand prisoners taken, but most were freed in time, after they'd paid their fines.'

‘So you remember where this passage starts?' the duke asked eagerly, looking about him.

The priest nodded, then shrugged. ‘I think so. It was dark, and all has changed so much. It was a most beautiful place, Arundel Castle. It saddens me greatly to see it all laid to waste.'

‘The soldiers are hot on our heels, man! Do you think you could stop blathering about times past and find this passage for us?' Lord Harry said.

Father Plummer looked grave, but he nodded
and made his way hesitantly out through the back of the hall and into the quadrangle beyond. The others all followed, looking about them with interest.

‘But it's so huge!' Luka whispered. ‘It'll take hours to walk all over it. We haven't a hope of finding the entrance to the secret passage if Father Plummer does not remember where it is.'

Both the Duke of Ormonde and Lord Harry were obviously worried too. The duke said nothing, but he looked pale and troubled, and kept looking back over his shoulder. Lord Harry cast suspicious glances at Father Plummer, and kept muttering under his breath about popish plots, and vile trickery, and foul Jesuits, while Tom lagged behind, looking unhappy.

Gypsies were often criticised for being irreligious, in an age when one's religion meant everything, but even so Luka and Emilia found it difficult being in the company of a priest. Ever
since the death of Bloody Queen Mary, priests and popery had been the devils most feared by the common people. Constant plots by the Catholics to overthrow or kill Good Queen Bess had caused a deep undercurrent of anxiety among those who could remember the last time a Catholic had ruled the land, when the smoke from the constant burning alive of Protestants had hung thick in the air. No one wanted to return to those times, and much of the hatred of Charles I had been caused by the fear that he was too Catholic in his tastes. Although Luka and Emilia had been raised with a certain scepticism towards the Church, as they had been towards all institutions of power, the fear and hatred of Catholics ran so deep that they too found it hard not to suspect the harmless-looking priest of some dark, hidden purpose.

Tom obviously felt the same, yet he made an effort to hide his feelings, out of politeness. Lord Harry, however, seemed to view the priest with
such loathing that he could barely look at him. He muttered to Luka, ‘Damned pope-lover! Give them a finger and they'll always take a hand. My lord duke is a fool to trust him.'

Luka could only hope Lord Harry was wrong.

Father Plummer led them up a steep, crumbling flight of steps into the most ancient part of the castle, a tall, round keep with walls that were ten feet thick. It was not so badly damaged by cannon fire, though neglect and the weather had worn away the stones, and weeds sprouted everywhere. Owls roosted in the rafters, and the floor was white with their droppings. Everywhere lay the little regurgitated pellets they coughed up, composed of the hair and skin and bones of the mice and birds they devoured, and the air was thick with the smell. Tom coughed, and covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief, while Rollo went bounding forward, ears pricked forward, nostrils quivering with the joy of such
rich odours. Zizi wrinkled her nose and leapt up to Luka's shoulder, dusting clean her paws. Following along behind, holding up her damp skirts in one hand, Emilia could only wish she wore shoes.

Father Plummer bent and picked up an owl feather and tucked it away in his satchel. ‘Could come in useful,' he said with a quick smile at Emilia, who stared at him in surprise.

From the windows, they had a glorious view down to the sea, and a not-so-glorious view of a troop of soldiers riding hard up the hill towards the castle. They had to find a hiding place fast.

‘Any ideas, Father Plummer?' the duke asked, his hand gripping his sword hilt.

‘Somewhere round here,' the priest muttered, and hurried on. They all followed after him, running down some slippery dark stairs and down into the bowels of the keep.

They came to a shadowy, low-ceilinged room,
lit only by narrow slits in the walls. In the centre of the room was a well, covered with a half-rotten wooden cover, with an iron winch and handle over it.

At the sight of it, Father Plummer puffed out his breath in relief. ‘This is it,' he cried. He leant over and dragged away the wooden cover, revealing a deep, black hole. A gust of frigid, stale-smelling air puffed out. ‘This is our way out!'

T
hey all stared down the well in dismay.

‘It goes down into the chalk on which the hill is built,' Father Plummer said. ‘They carved a passage through under the castle, heading north. Nat, have you any more rope? We need rope.'

Nat flung down the heavy bag he carried over his shoulder and swiftly rummaged through, withdrawing a thick coil of rope.

‘Last time, they lowered us down on a bucket, but there's no bucket here now,' Father Plummer
said rapidly. ‘I suppose we all must just slide down the rope.'

Nat quickly and efficiently secured the end of the rope about the iron winch that stood over the dark hole.

‘One problem I can see,' Lord Harry said in a strained voice. ‘As soon as the soldiers search the keep, they'll find the well with its cover off and our rope hanging down. They'll simply follow us down.'

Everyone caught their breath in alarm.

‘No problem,' Luka said nonchalantly. ‘I'll come last. I don't need a rope. I'll untie it and drop it down to you, then just climb down.'

There were exclamations of horror and dismay all round.

‘But how can you climb down the well without a rope?' the duke demanded. ‘You'll slip and fall!'

‘If I do, just lower the rope down to me and haul me up again,' Luka said. ‘But don't worry. I won't fall.'

‘He's a monkey boy,' Emilia said. ‘He can climb anything.'

‘Are you sure?' the priest said dubiously. ‘The well is very deep and the water would be icy cold. I wouldn't want a dunking in it.'

‘I'll be fine,' Luka said. ‘Emilia, I'll get you to hang onto Zizi for me, though. She won't like the dark or the smell, and I don't want to have her strangling me with her tail.'

‘All right then, let's give it a try,' the duke said, with no sign of strain in his voice or bearing. They could have been deciding to climb down a deep, freezing-cold well for their own amusement, rather than to escape the cruel and barbarous death that would be the duke's fate if he was caught. ‘But we must be quick! Father Plummer, you go first so you can show us the way.'

The duke kindled a lantern and handed it to the priest, whose hand shook so much the flame wavered. He nodded and let Nat and Lord Harry
make a loop in the rope and secure it under his armpits. He then sat on the edge of the well, his chubby face pale, as the two men began to swiftly lower him down. The light from the lantern cast strange dancing shadows up the well, and Emilia shivered and put her hand on Rollo's shaggy head.

‘What about Rollo?' she asked.

The duke glanced at Lord Harry, one eyebrow raised.

‘Don't worry,' the highwayman said cheerfully. ‘We'll lower him down too. He can't be as heavy as this infernal priest!'

‘We'll muzzle him so he does not howl,' the duke said. ‘We don't want him alerting the soldiers to our whereabouts.'

‘He won't howl,' Emilia said. ‘I'll tell him to be quiet.'

The duke gave a small, strained grin. ‘I have no doubt he'd understand your every word, my little gypsy, but nonetheless, I'll muzzle him. All right?'

Emilia nodded, though she hated the thought of Rollo being muzzled.

She was lowered down next, Zizi clinging to her neck, gibbering loudly in fear. The sound echoed weirdly round the well, and Emilia petted the little monkey's soft fur, murmuring, ‘Sssh, sssh.'

Sssshhhhhhhhhh, ssssssssshhhhhhhh
, hissed the echoes.

Zizi whimpered, and clutched so tightly to Emilia's neck she could hardly breathe. Emilia loosened the little monkey's grip and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her own fear as the cold, dank darkness closed in around her. Emilia hated being shut up in small places. It was like being buried alive. She felt her heart pounding frantically against the bones of her chest, and heard its muffled boom against her eardrums. She shut her eyes and counted slowly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

After what seemed a very long time, she saw the golden flickering glow of the lantern and then she came level with a very narrow slit in the slimy white walls of the well. Father Plummer was waiting for her there. He managed to swing her in, and then jerked sharply on the rope. At once it was hauled upwards again.

They were kind to her, and lowered Rollo down next, even though everyone left up the top must have been getting very edgy as the soldiers began to search the castle. Rollo had been wrapped in Lord Harry's heavy cloak and muzzled with his kerchief, and he was struggling wildly. Emilia dragged him into the passageway and quickly unwound the rope from about his body, exclaiming over him and checking him for rope burns. As soon as she unmuzzled him, he began to whine, his tail tucked firmly between his legs, and she stroked his ears, murmuring endearments under her breath.

‘Keep him quiet,' the priest whispered anxiously. ‘And the monkey too.'

Up in the guardroom, Luka was crouching by the stairwell, listening anxiously to the sound of heavy boots and loud cries coming closer and closer. The soldiers were in the keep already, he could hear them banging around and calling as they searched. Nat was the last to shin down, and Luka waited impatiently for the tug on the rope that told him the burly servant was safe inside the secret passage. He then struggled to untie it, finding the heavy knot more difficult to unravel than he had expected.

Boots sounded on the stairs. Luka wrenched at the knot and at last it loosened. He pulled the rope free and let it slither down into the darkness. He then carefully lowered himself into the well, pressing his bare feet against one damp, slippery side and his back to the other. Very quietly, he pulled the wooden cover back over the well,
hunching down so he did not bang his head. His leg muscles trembled with the exertion.

Luka was just fitting the cover into place when he noticed something large and red caught on a splinter of wood, hanging out from the side of the well like a waving banner. His heart hammering with terror, he quickly grabbed it and dragged it back inside with him, dropping the edge of the cover down just as the soldiers came tramping into the room.

Moving very slowly, Luka began to inch his way down the side of the well. It was exhausting and terrifying, for the walls were so slippery he had to brace himself with all his strength to keep himself from falling. Once or twice his foot did slip, and he had to stop himself with a wild jerk.

Above him, the well cover was dragged back and a light shone down. Luka froze, pressing his back hard against the wall. The light did not reach him. He heard a murmur of voices, and then the
wooden cover banged back on again. Sighing out his breath in relief, Luka slipped and jerked his way down to the opening in the wall, where eager hands reached out to grab him and draw him into safety.

Luka slumped on the ground, his breath coming in great gasps, his legs trembling uncontrollably. ‘That was close!' he whispered.

Zizi leapt into his arms and Luka cuddled her close, then accepted a battered silver flask from the priest and took a swig. Liquid fire burnt down his throat and he gasped. ‘What was that?'

‘Brandy,' Father Plummer replied, smiling.

‘Really?' Lord Harry cried, and took the flask Luka was holding up and drank a mouthful himself. ‘And not just any brandy,' he said with a grin, passing the flask to the duke. ‘The finest French brandy, begad!'

Luka scrambled to his feet, pleased his legs were no longer shaking so much, though he felt
worn and strained in every muscle of his body. He held out a long, red scarf to the duke, who was taking another swig from the priest's hipflask.

‘This was caught on the wooden cover,' he said. ‘If I had not happened to see it, we would have been discovered for sure.'

The duke took it, frowning, and then passed it to Nat, who looked most startled and felt at his neck in surprise. ‘I'm sorry, my lord, it must have caught on a nail or something when I took the cover off the well,' he said. ‘I didn't feel it fall off.'

‘That's not like you to be so careless, Nat,' the duke said chidingly. Then he sighed. ‘Though it has been a long night, and a hard one. We're all exhausted. We must all take care not to leave any clues behind us. Come, let's have something to eat and rest a moment, then we'll go on.'

It was a strange meal, squeezed together in a narrow passageway deep under the ground, with only the light of one lantern gleaming on the
damp walls. Everyone's faces looked strange and demonic to Emilia, even Luka's, while Zizi looked like some imp escaped from hell. They ate great slabs of ham on stale bread cut with the highwayman's knife, and apples and cheese, washed down with more brandy for the men and water for the children. Luka would have quite liked some more brandy for it made him feel very bold and brave, but the duke laughed and called it Dutch courage, and Lord Harry said it was too good to be wasted on children.

It was bitterly cold. Even cuddled up next to Rollo, with her shawl about her shoulders, Emilia could not get warm. The stone beneath her felt like ice, and a piercing-cold draught blew up from the well, so that she was glad to get up and stretch and get moving again, no matter how weary she felt.

On and on they walked, the walls pressing so close about them that Lord Harry often had to turn to squeeze his broad shoulders through. After
a while the passage began to angle upwards, and the floor grew drier and not so slippery. Emilia could hear nothing but a dead silence, and see nothing but the pale curving walls a few paces ahead, lit by the lantern the duke carried. Then the path split into two. Everyone stared at Father Plummer, who sighed and muttered and crossed his breast before pointing to the right. On they went. Again and again the secret passage divided, and once the priest led them into a dead-end and they had to retrace their steps, worried and afraid.

After about two hours, the lantern began to splutter, and the light leapt up and down madly, then suddenly spat and went out. They were plunged into utter darkness. The only sound was their own laboured breathing.

‘What now, man?' Lord Harry cried.

‘We must go on,' Father Plummer said, his voice hoarse. ‘Let us tie ourselves together, just in case …'

‘Just in case of what?'

‘Just in case.'

‘Rollo can lead us,' Emilia said. ‘He is used to leading Noah, my brother, who's blind. Rollo has led us through darkness before.'

So Emilia went first, the rope tied around her waist, her hand resting on Rollo's back. She found the rough warmth of his long coat very reassuring. On and on they went, stumbling with exhaustion, occasionally feeling a cold blast of air from some unseen opening in the passageway, and having the terrifying lurch of space opening up under their fingers. Rollo did not hesitate, though. He loped on steadily, and after an immeasurable length of time the ground beneath their feet began to climb. It was so damp and slippery they had to claw at the walls to stop themselves slipping and slithering back again. Soon Emilia was heartened to hear the unmistakable sound of the wind shushing through leaves, and then she saw a dim grey light seeping in from ahead.

Suddenly the ceiling of the passageway dropped sharply, forcing them all to their hands and knees. Emilia, as the smallest, had the easiest time. Poor Lord Harry could barely cram himself through. At last, scratched, bruised and panting, they found themselves squeezing out through a narrow crack into an old disused quarry cut into the side of the hill. Before them the land fell down precipitately to wide, rolling waters where a river wound in gentle, glimmering curves the colour of the falling twilight. Behind them was a steep road, and thick trees, and the rise of the Downs, dark against the sunset sky.

‘Amberley Castle is a few minutes back that way,' Father Plummer said, rubbing his filthy face with both hands, and smiling wearily. ‘I remember we had a fine welcome there after the siege. It's abandoned now, I think, but we can camp there the night, at least.'