Gideon's Angel (17 page)

Gideon Fludd must have pricked up his courage again; I heard him cry out: “Will you give us aid? You and the other Seraphim of the ether? Tell us what we must do!”

“Gideon,” answered the angel, “My power in this sphere waxes with the moon and in the day of Saturn. Call upon me then and I will give you the instruments you desire. My servants will continue to do you service even as they obey me.”

“Cromwell shall be slain,” said Fludd, his voice choked.

“Fail us not!” the angel warned, its voice rising to a near screech. That was more than enough for me. Though pressed against the floor, my bowels turned to water, I somehow crawled backwards, away from that terrible sight. I regained the chamber I had been in before and swivelled my head, looking for a way out of the nightmare. All my pain had now returned, and my head spun with delirium and disbelief. I placed my cheek upon the floor and shut my eyes. The boards were cold on my chest and belly but I still felt myself drifting away, falling again.

An instant later my heart was in my throat. I felt a hand press into the small of my back and another cover my mouth. From the corner of my eye I saw someone lean over and look into my face.

“
Ca va
,
Colonel?
” came the words in a near whisper.

The man who knelt over me
looked
like d’Artagnan, that same swarthy face I knew of old, but I could no longer trust my senses which were fast drifting away.

“
Monsieur
d’Artagnan?” I croaked. “You have no shoes on your feet.”

I felt his hand roughly grasp my chin and move my head, as he leaned over and examined my face. “
Merde!
” was the only word I could comprehend.

I felt a tug on my wrists and then they came apart. So too with my ankles as the musketeer cut loose my bonds. Then I felt my shoes coming off. He shook me and my head must have lolled like a doll’s. He swore again and smacked me upon the cheek with the palm of his hand. “Colonel, get up!”

It was d’Artagnan. Here, in England. Here with me. I slowly crawled up to my knees and I felt him raise me swaying to my feet. Barefoot, and he practically carrying me, we somehow made it to the stairwell. Whatever still went on beyond us in Fludd’s chamber, I did not know. Whatever prayers they were saying, they did not hear our escape. Outside it was darkness except for a sliver of moon. In my dizzy state, the trees swayed like monstrous Hydras and I could not tell whether we were in town or country, farm or estate. We hobbled across a courtyard, then mercifully onto lawn and towards a thick stand of oak. I glimpsed horses under the trees, and someone else. I felt myself pushed into the withers of a mount, and then someone had grabbed my legs and was hoisting me into a saddle.

“Blessed God, Mister Eff! Give us a hand, sir! Can’t budge you on my lonesome, Fellow Creature. There now, up you go!”

Billy Chard pushed my hips round and I slumped over the saddlebow. Next I knew he was behind me and grabbing the reins. I looked up to see d’Artagnan, already mounted in front of us, raising his hand and giving a short whistle. And we were off at a fast trot, Billy’s hand gripping the back of my coat. My stomach rolled and up came my accounts over the horse’s neck.

“Sweet Jesus, Mister Eff! You’re in a bad way. Hell of a banquet by the sounds of it.”

I should have been thinking about how d’Artagnan had magically appeared. Or how Marguerite had lied to me. Or how Billy Chard had reappeared after abandoning me earlier. Or even of the miraculous vision I had just witnessed in that house. But what kept rolling around my mind was the thought of what Gideon Fludd would make of two empty shoes lying on the floor of his dining room.

Chapter Eleven

W
HEN
I
CAME
to, it was in more comfortable circumstances. I lay on a proper feather bed, the curtains drawn back full. At my left sat Maggie, the vision of a proper country maid, dressed in plain dark wool skirt and bodice, a linen cap upon her head. At first, it was a slightly jarring sight. I had never before glimpsed Marguerite St. John in anything other than silks and taffetas. But looking into her face again, cheeks pink as budding roses, my spirits rallied.

But even as I opened my eyes into what I took to be early morning light, all the memories of what had gone before came swimming back to mind. And a new sadness quietly closed on my heart. Across the bedchamber I could see Lieutenant d’Artagnan standing near the large casement window, absently watching the world outside. Unlike Maggie, he was rigged to the height of gentlemanly fashion, and a Paris gentleman at that. His rapier sat low, slung across his hip, his jet black coat dripping with silver frippery, two huge lace cuffs protruding from the sleeves.

I spoke, my top lip feeling thick and swollen. “Where is this place?”

She looked up at the sound of my voice. Her green-flecked brown eyes suddenly gleamed. “Richard, rest easy. We’re safe and outside of Exeter now.”

I tried to raise my head off the two commodious pillows I lay on and was rewarded with a horse-kick to my skull. I must have winced visibly in pain for she reached out and laid a hand softly on my shoulder.

“Lie still. You still have a lump on your head like a goose egg.” Her hand moved to my face with a caress. “But the boss and bruise to your cheek is already much improved and I think your nose will heal on its own in time. And God bless Billy Chard, he was able to set your finger while you were still senseless last night and put a few stitches into your face wound.”

I looked at her, my head sinking back again into the pillow. “Why did you lie to me, Maggie?”

She looked straight into my eyes and spoke without hesitation, almost as if she had been expecting the question. “I did it to save you. I don’t regret it... for the moment at least.”

“You led him here to Devon, to me.” By now, d’Artagnan had heard me speak and was standing next to Maggie, an arm upon the bedpost.

“Yes, I did lead him here. But I also told him that before he killed you he would have to kill me.”

“That was very clever stagecraft you managed,” said d’Artagnan in French, looking at me with a soft smile. “The Cardinal thought you were playing your role well at the English court. Too well as it turns out. You have forgotten your orders, sir.”

“And His Eminence is a man who does not like being made the fool?” I mumbled.

“
Tout a fait
,
Colonel
. He knows of your part in this hare-brained uprising against Parliament. He knows, and he does not approve. You should have known better than to run out on your employer and benefactor.”

“You may piss off back to France.”

D’Artagnan shook his head slowly. “No, I cannot. Not without you. You might recall our orders the last time we served together, ‘If you can’t bring him out, you must kill him’. I’m afraid these orders are unchanged.”

I said nothing.

“Don’t be upset, Colonel. Consider this all a mark of great respect for your skills. If anyone could make this rebellion against Cromwell happen, it is you. The Cardinal knows this and the Cardinal does not want this to occur. Not before he knows the alternatives. It’s not in the interest of France.”

Maggie spoke up, and it was clear she knew I was wounded by her betrayal. “And he saved your life last night... with Billy. He could have let those Parliament men finish you, but he pulled you out just the same.”

She was right, but so too was d’Artagnan cunning. Maybe he thought they would
not
kill me and I might later escape to do some damage after all. But no, I knew in my heart that she had convinced the Lieutenant to fetch me out, back to her, and back to France.

“How did you know where they had taken me?” I said.

She reached out and grasped my arm. “That was down to Billy. He followed at a distance and observed where they took you. Thank God it was not far out of the town. He returned, half-dead, to find me at my inn and tell me the news. The rest you have discovered for yourself.”

D’Artagnan reached out towards me. In his hand was my Scottish dirk. “I recognised this from our little adventure last summer. It was on the table where I found you. Used it to cut your bonds... only fitting, no?”

I tried to smile. “That it is. But you have exchanged it for my shoes.” Fludd could use any item that belonged to me to track me down. D’Artagnan gave me a puzzled look but his impending retort was interrupted by the entry of Billy, a satchel thrown over his shoulder.

“Good morrow, Mister Eff!” he said, noticing that I was awake. “Looking better than last night, I do see.” He set down his burden and came over to the bedside. I saw that it was my own satchel he had somehow retrieved from our inn. “They gave you a mighty basting and I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your aid in time, though the Lord knows I did try.”

“Where were you when they burst in at the Mitre? You were at the window one minute and the next gone.”

Billy nodded, his face more haggard, and suddenly, more grave than usual. “I saw that thing, sir. I did. That ape beast with wings. I was near the back of the tavern when of a sudden it swooped down, knocked my hat from my head and nearly took me down too. First I thought it was some night hawk or owl. But it came again and I saw its face. It was all teeth and claws.” He held out his raked and torn sleeves for me to see. He then rolled these up to reveal huge red welts and scratches on both forearms. “Did my best to fend the beast off with my blade but I’m ashamed to say, I ran like a coward anyway. I’m sorry I left you to it, Mister Eff. Heartily sorry indeed.”

I could not blame him for running. Even if he had managed to fight alongside me, the outcome would have been the same. “You did the right thing. If you had not followed and then fetched help, I would now most likely be dead and gone.” I turned to Maggie. “Do you believe me now? That we’re fighting more than men of flesh and blood?”

Maggie pursed her lips and said nothing.

“Have you told the Lieutenant what I told you about Gideon Fludd?”

“I have,” she said quietly. “But I do not think he believes that magic is afoot.”

I laughed hoarsely. “What? He’s a Catholic, isn’t he? Sounds as if the Cardinal has not confided
everything
to our dear d’Artagnan.”

Billy was eager to lend support. “Aye, mistress, it’s all the truth. I’d swear upon the Bible that it is so. You can tell that to the foreign gentleman.”

“Those who do not believe must often see things for themselves to do so,” said Maggie, almost apologetically. D’Artagnan had wandered back to the window again, lost in his own deliberations and bored of the English patter.

“Whose house is this?” I asked, changing the subject.

“They are Catholics, merchants who compounded with Parliament to retain their house and business. We’re very close to Topsham, I think. Somehow d’Artagnan knew of them and brought us here.”

I nodded. “A safe house in Topsham known to the Cardinal? Christ, he does have a long reach.”

“We can stay until you’re better. The Lieutenant plans for us to hire a coach and make for Lyme Regis in a few days.”

“As simple as that, is it?” I said, feeling like a runaway apprentice about to be dragged back to his master. “Maggie, whilst I was being held last night, something happened. Something terrible is being planned, something that I’m hardly prepared to face. Yet... you will have a hard time believing my tale. D’Artagnan will no doubt call me a liar or a fool.”

“What is it, my love? What did Fludd say?”

I closed my eyes. “Not now. I hunger and thirst—and my head, Christ my head... Billy, fetch us some food from the mistress of this place, and drink, will you?”

Billy nodded and turned to go. He seemed as lost as me given this turn of events. We were more tied together than ever before, having both witnessed the unbelievable. And even Billy had not seen the awful and dreadful wonders that I had. He was still struggling with what he had seen with his own eyes, something that could not exist in his creed if there was no hell.

“Maggie, I need to shave off this beard and clean myself. Perhaps I could borrow a razor and some scissors from our hosts? And after I have downed some fare I’ll tell all of you what happened to me last night, whether you believe it or not.”

A remembrance of the night before, I could only bring myself to tell in the full light of the day, out of doors, in the warmth of the sun. My companions, both the invited and uninvited, sat with me in the herb garden behind the house. The master of the house, our gracious host, was an older gentleman and clearly terrified of our presence in his midst. One suspicious report to the mayor about his odd guests and he would lose everything. I could see him peeking from his larder window at our little gathering. Still, thanks to him I was fresh shaved and proper again in borrowed coat and breeches. But I looked a mighty rogue with the injuries on my purpled face, a great black scab running up the right side of my nose and a jagged welt where Fludd had flicked the dagger. God knows who this old man thought I was; I could smell the fear on him at thirty paces. He knew he was harbouring treasonous folk. That he allowed us to stay, it must have been, I suppose, from the duty of his Catholic faith or fear of the Cardinal. Whatever his motive, he was as nervous as a hen.