The Jade Boy (21 page)

“But just now, what I’m most certain of is that we all need rest,” he continued, pointing to the door.
“If it’s all right with you, Jem, you’ll share with Tolly here. Try to sleep, lad. You’re going to need your wits about you in the palace.”

Jem nodded gratefully. Suddenly he felt exhausted.

“You’ll have to wash first, mind,” Gabriel continued, his brown eyes twinkling. “You won’t get within a yard of King Charles if you smell like a privy. People turn their noses up at us player folk as it is, we don’t need your stink to make it worse!”

As Jem looked at Gabriel’s big friendly face, an idea popped into his head. There was an obvious way to deliver the evidence straight to the king – right into his hands in fact – but he would have to involve his friends, Gabriel and all the players.

As the others settled down to sleep, Jem went over and over the plan in his head. It was direct and simple, but it would put all of their lives in danger.

Jem wiped grime from his forehead. He was perched at the front of one of Gabriel’s player wagons as it rumbled along the city street towards the gate leading out to the palace at Whitehall. The hot, dry air was thick with dust. Great piles of muck and slurry, left uncleared, crusted even the most prosperous roads and made the city smell like a giant privy. All around, men and women went about their business holding their noses against the stench, some carrying little bunches of flowers or handkerchiefs drenched in scent to ward off the great stink.

Jem loosened his shirt and pulled at the linen band around his neck. He thought about the plan again. Could it work?

It hadn’t been difficult to convince Gabriel, and once Jem had got him on side the other players were easy to persuade – even though they would all be taking a huge risk. Tolly and Ann had also been certain that Jem’s idea would succeed. So why did he still feel so uneasy?

He leaned over the side of the wagon and looked back. Several of the players were following the carts on foot. Some were clowning, juggling or performing acrobatic tricks to attract attention to the troupe, others were handing out playbills. In the cart, jolting along behind, Tolly, Ann and Cleo were crammed onto the driving bench next to Gabriel.

Ann waved at him.

Then, just beyond her, out on the busy street beside Gabriel’s wagon, Jem caught a flash of blue as a woman pushed through the crowd. The colour reminded him of a dress his mother often wore. There was a bright glint of gold, too – the exact shade of Sarah’s hair.

He felt a sharp pang. The last time they’d spoken she had been furious with him and he hadn’t had a chance to explain why he’d stolen her keys or, more importantly, to warn her about the duke.

If all went well when they reached the palace that wouldn’t matter, but, all the same, Jem still wished he’d spoken to her and made things right. He slumped dejectedly, his eyes locked in an unfocused stare out onto the street.

As the woman in the blue dress turned into a little passageway, he caught a glimpse of her face.
He sat up with a start. It was his mother. What was she doing here?

“You will know him before your thirteenth birthday.”
Ann’s words rang clear in his mind.

Of course! Jem gripped the wooden seat and sat bolt upright.

Sarah had to be meeting his father – that’s why she was out alone in the city. It had to be the reason she was here. His heart started to beat very fast. This was his chance to meet his father – and to warn him… but he was supposed to be warning the king… What should he do?

Jem looked at the passageway Sarah had disappeared into and bit his lip. He could always catch up with the wagons later, couldn’t he?

Without thinking, he slipped down from the lumbering wagon and pushed through the crowd into the little passage. Sarah was twenty, perhaps thirty feet ahead of him. Every so often Jem caught sight of the distinctive blue of her dress as she swished through the mass of people. He shoved and dodged his way around the crowds to keep up, but he couldn’t quite catch her.

She turned into another side street and a few seconds later Jem did the same. It was busy here
too, but he could still see his mother ahead, moving purposefully.

Sarah turned into yet another passageway. It was darker here and the air was sour – Jem could tell they were entering a poor part of the city.

Fleetingly, he wondered what his father was doing in a place like this. He was about to call out to her when his mother turned sharply into another passage. Jem quickened his steps. When he reached the narrow entrance he saw that it twisted away into the shadows. At the far end, perhaps fifty feet away, a brief swish of blue showed that his mother had just rounded another corner.

He broke into a run along the deserted alley. He’d catch her easily now. Jem skidded at the corner, caught the wall and swung to the right.

Sarah was nowhere to be seen. But someone else was.

“Good day, Jeremy. It has been some time since we last met, has it not?”

Count Cazalon was there, waiting for him.

The man towered at the end of a blind stone passage. Beside him a fire crackled in a metal brazier and his huge shadow flickered and multiplied over the blank walls.

He was wearing a tall, wide-brimmed black hat with a silver buckle set on a band of blue – he exact blue of Jem’s mother’s dress. Beneath the hat, the greasy curls of his wig coiled over his shoulder like ink-dipped snakes. His cloak reached to the cobbles and he gripped his knubbled, hawk-headed cane in a red-gloved hand. The bird’s crystal eyes sparked in the firelight.

Osiris was perched on the count’s right shoulder. This all-too-real bird rocked forward, opened its curved beak and dribbled.

The count’s sing-song voice was cracked and hoarse. Jem tried to run, but found that he was rooted to the spot.

Cazalon licked his red lips. “I have returned lately from France and found that several of my… possessions are missing. I wonder, Jeremy, if you know where I might find them?”

He took a halting step forward and Jem saw that the count was sweating. His masklike face was crackled and pitted. The white paint seemed to be melting away in places and patches of skin visible beneath the paint were mottled purple and grey.

Jem could now hear, and see, scores of tiny flies buzzing and hovering beneath the brim of the
count’s hat. As he stared, a louse crept out from the greasy wig and scuttled onto the man’s sheeny cheek. Then it was gone. Jem’s mouth went dry with fear and disgust. In that blink of an eye, had he seen Cazalon’s long black tongue flick out to catch the insect?

Cazalon smiled. “I think it is a small thing to ask a friend for assistance. So I must try again… Jeremy, where are my things?”

Leaning heavily on the staff, Cazalon began to approach. Jem was almost overcome by the sweet and putrid stench rolling off the man, but he still couldn’t unlock his feet. Cazalon’s eyes seemed to bore into his very soul.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jem yelled, hurling the words like daggers.

A look of confusion clouded Cazalon’s face. Then he laughed. It sounded like the bark of a dog.

“Oh, I think you do, Master Green. The loss of my idiot servant, Ptolemy, is an annoyance, but the other…” He stopped and limped closer. The tap of his staff and the dragging sound of his lame foot echoed threateningly in the stone passage.

The smell was nauseating.

“Where is she, Jeremy?”

As he repeated the question, the tip of Cazalon’s thin black tongue appeared again and seemed to test the air. Jem felt the odd prickling sensation beneath his scalp, as if something was trying to probe its way into his deepest thoughts.

The Eye of Ra burned in Jem’s heel – it was shielding him. As the pain in Jem’s foot grew stronger, Cazalon’s face twisted in frustrated fury. He raised his staff and hammered it into the floor, shrieking, “Tell me where she is!”

The man couldn’t read his mind, Jem was sure. With a new defiance, he looked Cazalon directly in the eyes. “If you mean the monkey, I imagine she has gone wherever your servant Ptolemy has taken her.” Jem was amazed to hear the words that streamed from his lips as he continued, “And no wonder they ran away. Having seen for myself what happens in Malfurneaux Place I cannot blame them for wishing to leave your service.”

He stopped as a high-pitched whimpering noise filled the air. It seemed to come from just behind the count.

Grinning broadly, Cazalon stepped aside so that Jem could see the far end of the alley.

Tapwick’s shrunken body was curled against the wall. The little man raised his head to sniff the air and Jem gaped in horror. Instead of blind, milky eyes, the man’s empty sockets were now ragged open wounds that wept a thin red trickle of blood.

Cazalon laughed. “Tapwick here has been most careless. And that, dear Jeremy, is what happens to those who… disappoint me.”

He continued in a low, menacing tone. “I hope that you will not disappoint me. We are… bonded in friendship after all, are we not?”

The count leaned slowly forward so that his cloaked body loomed over Jem like a shadow. Osiris stretched across, opening his beak to peck at the band covering the birthmark at Jem’s neck.

Cazalon continued, “What I want from you, Jeremy—”

“You’re not getting anything from him!”

Cazalon was caught off guard as a flash of silver curved through the air over Jem’s shoulder. Ann’s crescent jewel sang as it flew from her hand and facets of rainbow-flecked light from the gemstones danced into the darkest corners of the alley. It caught Osiris on the head and the bird flapped its huge white wings and soared up from the count’s shoulder.

But it was Cazalon who yelped in pain. He dropped his staff, stumbled and brought a
crimson-gloved
hand to a fresh bleeding gash on his cheek.

At the same moment, a blur of black and white darted across the cobbles past Jem’s feet. Cleo retrieved the crescent moon from the dust and scampered back past him again.

Ann’s voice came again. “Run, Jem! Run now!”

Tolly and Ann were already pounding back down the alleyway, Cleo racing after them. Jem suddenly found that he could move again. He too broke into a run and within seconds all four of them were stampeding through the maze of dingy passages.

As they emerged into a broad street, they caught sight of the last of Jericho’s player wagons rumbling along in the far distance.

“He’s back!” panted Ann.

Tolly gasped for breath. “Did h– he f– follow us?

Jem shook his head “But, now… he knows w– we are together.”

He sank to his knees on the dusty road. His dark curls were plastered to his face and neck with sweat. “He tricked me. I don’t know how, but he made me 
think he was my mother. And I was an idiot to think that she might be going to…”

He broke off and thumped the cobbles in bitter frustration, realising that Cazalon had outwitted him again by tempting him with his deepest and most secret desire – just as he had tempted the duke and his cronies.

Ann put her hands on her hips and drew a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have gone off like that, Jem! From now on we must stick together. It was Cleo who saw you leave the wagon and she made us follow.”

“Then I’m very grateful to you, little one,” said Jem, reaching out to stroke Cleo’s head. “And to you Ann – that was some shot with the moon brooch!”

Ann took the crescent from Cleo’s outstretched paw and turned it thoughtfully in her hand. “I believe this might be a great deal more than a mere ornament,” she said after a long moment.

Cleo began to chatter excitedly and Tolly pointed to Gabriel’s wagons – now so far ahead that only a cloud of thick dust thrown up into the air showed where they were.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ll never catch up if we don’t get going. And now that Cazalon has come
back to London, we have to get to the king before it’s too late.”

The children took off at a run. They eventually managed to catch the last cart in the line and hauled themselves aboard.

They sat in exhausted fearful silence the rest of the way to the palace. Jem was angry. The count had outwitted him four times now. How could he have allowed himself to be tricked again? He would have to be on his guard.

Jem pushed his damp black curls back from his forehead and frowned. Something else had been nibbling at his mind, and he’d just realised what it was. When they had run from the alley, Cazalon had been laughing.

Jem peered out through the curtains of Jericho’s newly built theatre in the gardens of Whitehall Palace. It had taken a day and most of the night to construct the temporary stage – an army of players swinging and swarming over the network of timbers as it rose from the dust of the terrace.

Jem, Tolly and Ann had helped where they could. Jem was strong and Tolly was agile, helping to guide the wooden poles for the roof into place overhead. Ann joined the artists who were painting the backcloths and even Cleo made herself useful, climbing up to the high places that Tolly and the actors couldn’t reach.

Then, throughout most of the night and well into the morning, they had rehearsed and practised the crucial new scene that he and Jericho had written into the king’s end-of-summer revels.

Now it was time to perform it for real.

The court had just reassembled on the terraces after taking refreshment. Jem could hear laughter
and conversation as the audience waited for the entertainment to continue.

The first part of the performance had gone well – dancers, clowns, comic actors, acrobats, songs and a pretty love story had created a jolly mood in the assembled court. Gabriel, dressed as Jupiter, King of the Gods, had taken the role of master of ceremonies and he had ordered his players about the stage as if he truly were the monarch of all he surveyed. The king had laughed good-naturedly as Gabriel referred to him as his ‘earthly brother’.

Moving the curtain a little to get a better view, Jem squinted into the bright sunlight. Richly dressed aristocrats paraded on the sandy paths between ornamental flower beds – the women were fanning themselves in the stifling heat, the men talking and laughing noisily. The garden shimmered in a golden haze.

Jem gulped as he caught sight of the king. An elaborate platform with a purple canopy stood directly in front of the stage. Charles and his queen were returning to gilt thrones set upon a raised section in the middle of the platform. The royal couple were surrounded by rows of elegant nobles while other members of the court took up positions
on the gravel paths and lawns before the stage. Jem felt his stomach flip. Even though Gabriel, Tolly, Ann and all the players were right behind him, he wasn’t sure that he was brave enough. He looked down at the golden sandals that were part of his costume and thought he might be sick.

Tolly patted his back. “Nearly time, Jem. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.”

“Me too… This thing looks ridiculous… and I think it’s got greenfly!” Tolly grinned as he adjusted the laurel wreath on his head, but Jem could sense his friend’s fear.

Both boys were dressed as Romans, wearing simple tunics that reached to just below their knees. Their faces were painted gold and they carried scrolls.

Cleo was perched on Tolly’s shoulder. Tolly offered the little monkey a slice of apple. “Jem, this is a brilliant idea. It will work, I’m sure of it,” he said reassuringly, as Cleo spat a pip onto the stage. “Thanks. It’s just so… Oh, Tolly, look at them all out there! There must be three hundred people at least. And the king is only twenty yards away.”

The other boy opened the curtain just a fraction, peered through, then quickly pulled it back into place.

“Probably better not to look,” he muttered, scratching at the laurel wreath.

The stage behind the boys had been skilfully decorated to look like the night sky. A huge moon and hundreds of sparkling stars hung overhead and billowing clouds painted on plasterboard surrounded them.

“Cleo shouldn’t be here. We’re almost ready, boys.”

Gabriel strode out from the wings on the right to take up position between them. Still dressed as Jupiter, with a golden circlet on his head and a trailing purple robe, he looked even broader and taller than usual, but Jem could tell that he too seemed anxious now. He was pale – even beneath the stage paint.

“You two ready then?” asked the showman.

The boys nodded nervously as Gabriel continued, “Every one of us will stand by you today, Jem. Remember that when—”

The big man faltered as Ann stepped from the wings on the left. She was wearing a short tunic, silver-winged sandals and a little shining helmet. Her silver-white hair hung down her back in a thick plait. She gave a small anxious smile.

“Is it… er… is this… all right? Do I look like Mercury, Messenger to the Gods?”

“You look even more beautiful than your mother, lass.” Gabriel grinned. “If the king doesn’t listen to you today, I’ll eat my horse – and the wagon, too!”

Ann straightened her tunic and pushed her hair into place. She looked embarrassed, and smiled nervously at Jem and Tolly as she took up her place on the stage a little way behind them. They watched as she climbed up to stand behind a glittering painted star suspended on ropes. The star hung a foot above the boards of the stage and swayed a little. Ann gripped its points tightly to steady herself.

Gabriel clapped his hands. “To your places!”

Tolly handed Cleo to one of the players and she was carried off stage, protesting noisily. Trumpets blasted and the curtain began to twitch, as a couple of burly players began to turn wheels at the side of the stage to pull the billowing fabric back.

Gabriel squared his shoulders and put his hands on the boys’ backs.

“Now or never, lads. May fortune favour us all. And get that monkey off the stage!” he hissed into the wings as Cleo poked her head around a painted cloud.

There was another huge trumpet fanfare, then the thundering of drums and the curtains rolled back.

At first there was silence. Then a round of polite applause rang out as the court took in the beautiful night-time scene.

Jem, Tolly and Gabriel took a single step forward and in unison they made a low, sweeping bow to the stand where the king sat. Jem felt as if his knees were made of custard. He kept his eyes on the boards and didn’t dare to look ahead.

A drawling voice rang out from the audience. “Have you got your lines written on your sandals, boy?”

Everyone began to laugh. Jem looked up and saw that the king was smiling. Jericho stepped forward and raised his hands. Gradually the laughter died down.

“As emperor of the heavens, I come to address my brother on earth,” he began in a deep, booming voice. “Night has come to England and evil walks the land. I have come to warn my royal kinsman of a plot to burn his city and heap ash upon his name.

“My messengers here,” Gabriel gestured to Jem and Tolly, “know of the men who plot this infamy. Their names are scalded into a scroll of vile deeds.”

Jericho stared out at the audience as someone
shouted, “I was expecting a comedy, not a tragedy! Bring back the acrobats and the singers!”

There was more laughter as Gabriel continued, “Mercury, do my bidding! Take this proof of treason to my brother.”

Ann’s little star chariot started to judder on its ropes and pulleys, and slowly she rose into the air, swinging perilously across the stage over the heads of Jem, Tolly and Gabriel. On her back she wore a long silver quiver, but instead of arrows, the quiver was packed with the rolled contract and the maps showing the places where the fires were to be set.

“Now, that’s more like it,” called out a courtier and there were more appreciative chuckles, whistles and bawdy comments as Ann travelled slowly out over the stage towards the king’s stand. As she passed over Jem’s head, he saw that she was clinging tightly to the star and her eyes were closed.

“Now, messengers,” Gabriel boomed again. “Name the traitors to His Majesty.”

Jem’s mouth went completely dry. He took a faltering step forward and looked into the crowd. He was struck dumb for a moment as he caught sight of the duke sitting just behind the king on the canopied stand. Next to the duke was a heavily
veiled woman, and the Marquis of Kilheron and Lord Avebury were sitting just a little further along the row.

No doubt Aldermen Pinchbeck was here somewhere, too – all of them safe from the flames about to engulf the city.

This was it.

Jem cleared his throat and began. “By the most foul means…” His voice was cracked and hesitant.

“Speak up, lad, we can’t hear you,” someone called from the audience, while another shouted, “Never mind the whispering boy, look at the pretty player girl there. Up she goes!”

There was more laughter as Ann’s star chariot appeared to float out over the edge of the stage towards the canopied stand. Jem gulped as he saw the wires above him pull tight and heard the faintest squeak as the star winched its way towards the king. Moments later it bumped to the ground just in front of the royal stand. Ann curtsied deeply and bowed her head.

Tolly nudged him and whispered “Go on, Jem. Take a deep breath.”

Jem cleared his throat and began again, his voice stronger now.

“By the most foul means possible, using sorcery and forbidden powers, the following men have plotted to burn Your Majesty’s great capital to the ground today and to murder its citizens.”

Jem paused and looked at the crowd.

“George, Duke of Bellingdon. I name you traitor.”

Several people gasped. There were shuffles and nervous titters, and even King Charles himself looked surprised.

Jem spoke again. “Matthew, Marquis of Kilheron, I name you traitor.”

There was an even louder gasp. Then people began to boo.

“This is no entertainment, it is an insult to His Majesty!” someone shouted.

“Take them away and have them whipped,” yelled another.

Then Tolly stepped forward and began to speak in a firm clear voice. “John, Lord Avebury, I name you traitor. Edward Pinchbeck, Alderman of the City of London, I name you traitor.”

“Silence the moor!” screamed a woman. “This is an outrage!”

Jem continued, he was shouting now, so his voice still carried. “Sire, these traitors have plotted
with Count Cazalon of Malfurneaux Place to raze London to the ground, murdering all inside its walls, and to replace the city with one of their own design.”

The crowd was buzzing with a menacing excitement. Some looked furious, staring at Jem with venomous expressions, others were thoroughly enjoying the scandal, gossiping frantically behind their fans.

Jem looked at the royal stand. The king was on his feet beckoning to a man in uniform and Jem saw soldiers rushing down the steps from the palace. They were heading for the stage.

Behind the king, the duke was now talking to Kilheron. The young marquis nodded so violently that his wig slipped and he had to catch it to hold it in place. The duke and Kilheron turned to stare coldly at Jem.

“Sire,” Tolly called out. “You must listen. I insist upon it!”

Instantly the crowd fell dangerously silent.

The king strode to the front of the stand. He stared furiously at Tolly.

“
Must
is not a word for kings, boy.” His voice was sharp and cold.

“Sire, I apologise for our manners,” Jem said as
he dropped to his knees. He yanked hard at Tolly’s costume to indicate that he should kneel too. Jem’s heart was thumping so heavily that he thought his chest would burst as he continued. “We… we mean no treason. I… that is we…” he gestured at Tolly, Gabriel and Ann, “have discovered a plot against you, but we knew of no other way to warn you.”

There was a long silence.

Suddenly Charles began to laugh. “Ah, I see now. Why, this is excellent, Mr Jericho,” he said, beaming at the courtiers around him. “The most wonderful and entertaining trick. I congratulate you.”

People began to laugh nervously and some applauded. There were shouts of “Bravo!”

Gabriel bowed deeply, but when he spoke his voice was flat and deadly serious. “’Tis no jest, Your Majesty. I only wish it were. These lads speak nothing but the truth. And Ann here can show you.”

With her eyes lowered, Ann stepped out from the star. She curtsied and handed the silver quiver up to the king.

“This contains all the proof you need, Sire. The men my friends have named are traitors to you and to your people.”

Charles looked confused again.

Jem blurted out, “Our words are true, Sire. We are your loyal subjects and we are here to tell you that these men intend to burn London to the ground and build a city of their own design in its place.”

There was a moment of silence. Then a man shouted, “Who are these players to accuse their betters? Vagabond scum! Hang them all! They are the traitors.”

Jem felt his cheeks burn. He could feel Tolly trembling beside him, and even Gabriel looked defeated. It had all gone horribly wrong – how could he possibly have thought that the king would listen to them?

Charles raised his hand for quiet. The crowd was expectant. Then a high, clear voice rang out across the terrace.

“Your Majesty. I am proud to say that this boy is no traitor. He speaks the truth.”

Jem looked up and squinted into the blazing sun. Two finely dressed women were walking quickly towards the stage down a central pathway between the flower beds. One had chestnut hair that glowed in the golden afternoon light and one was very fair. The fair woman looked like… No! Jem stared in amazement.