I turned to see our prison ablaze, flames filling the space within, consuming all with voracious appetite. Then the roof collapsed, sending sparks flying up into the sky, where the wind seized them and carried them west, towards the rest of the City.
‘God’s teeth!’ Josselin exclaimed from behind.
I followed his gaze and saw only fire. College Hill disappeared. Josselin watched frozen, eyes wide.
‘You did this,’ I reminded him, head still giddy. My guts churned and I vomited onto the floor beneath my feet.
‘Into the graveyard,’ Dowling shouted.
He grabbed me by the collar while I still sat crouched, waiting for another spasm. He dragged me towards the middle of the churchyard, away from the worst of the heat and smoke.
I sat on a gravestone watching the flames surge twenty or thirty feet above our heads, roaring with insane ferocity. Though I sat thirty paces away, still the heat engulfed my face, threatening to burn it from my skull. City bells rang loud from all direction, deafening even amidst the blaze of the fire.
Dowling sat close while Josselin strode off in search of something.
I shouted to be heard above the din. ‘Josselin saved us?’
Dowling nodded, twisting the rope about his wrists into giant knots. ‘He chopped the walls with an axe.’
I plunged my head between my legs, fighting the nausea. ‘That was good of him.’
Josselin prowled the inner wall of the churchyard, everything
glowing a fiery orange. The wall encircling us rose eight feet tall, with only one other gate, leading directly inside Thomas Apostle, already lit. The leaves of a large oak tree, stood majestically to our left, flickered and glowed like little candles against the black sky as sparks fell onto its branches and nestled against its dry body.
I struggled to remember. ‘Is it day or night?’
Dowling nodded at the horizon to the west. ‘Night still.’
‘We must climb the wall,’ Josselin called, striding through the grass.
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘The fire cannot reach us here, nor can Arlington. The fire will burn itself out by tomorrow.’
Josselin stood with hands on hips, staring at the flames like they were a great inconvenience. ‘I have to get to St Paul’s.’
‘We can go when the fire has diminished,’ I replied.
He looked at me as if I were a great fool and stuck his hand up in the air. ‘Feel the wind, Lytle. How long do you think it will take this wind to carry the fire down Watling Street?’
God save us, he was right. The idea that Paul’s might bow to this fire seemed ludicrous. It had stood for six centuries, had seen off fire, lightning, radical Protestants and Cromwell’s Model Army. That it might now fall to the hands of the man that stood before me seemed unthinkable. Yet the fire was already halfway there, in less than a day. ‘What is at St Paul’s you desire so badly?’
‘No.’ Josselin stabbed his finger at my forehead. ‘Let me ask you a question first. What is your relationship with Arlington? I assumed you played some complex game, that you sought to gain my trust on Arlington’s behalf.’ He looked at my pocket. ‘I have seen you smoke your strange leaves, and watched you emerge from Shyam unscathed. I saw Arlington and Withypoll come out of the house and thought
they left you there to trap me. But if I hadn’t saved you, you would have died.’
Dowling nodded.
‘We performed but lowly duties for Arlington,’ I explained. ‘Then he asked us to investigate the murder of nobility, Thomas Wharton, the Earl of St Albans.’
‘The torturer?’
‘So it turned out.’ I nodded. ‘Arlington conspired with him, and expected us to point the finger at the wrong man, else get ourselves killed. In the event we had to save his life when he betrayed Wharton.’
‘And he let you live?’ Josselin’s eyes narrowed, suspicious.
‘Until now,’ Dowling replied. ‘I don’t think he expected us to leave Shyam alive, or if we did, the plan was for Withypoll to kill us. It still is.’
Josselin continued to stare, as if trying to work out the rules of an elaborate game. ‘If you betray me I will kill you.’
I shrugged. Arlington, Withypoll and the plague had exhausted my capacity for fear.
Josselin jabbed his finger. ‘You will help me.’
‘As best we can,’ I replied. ‘Though our attempt to gain you an audience with Arlington failed. He wants you dead.’
‘I must get to St Paul’s,’ he said. ‘Then you must carry a message to Arlington on my behalf.’
‘And have him kill us?’ I snorted.
‘Listen to me,’ Josselin snapped. ‘When we get to St Paul’s I will show you the letter. You can see it for yourself. Arlington will not dare kill you once he knows you have seen it.’
‘You have hidden a letter at St Paul’s?’
‘I could not keep it on my person, for if I am caught with the letter upon me then I am lost.’
‘What letter?’ Dowling grunted.
Josselin puffed out his chest and gritted his teeth like he contemplated diving into the Thames. ‘Arlington told you I sabotaged the chance of peace.’
‘Aye. You made sure De Witt saw a letter not intended for him,’ I said.
Josselin nodded. ‘So I did, but not to sabotage peace. In my view it was the only thing to do if peace was ever to be achieved.’
‘By betraying Arlington’s true intent to De Witt you hoped that England and Holland would embrace each other in peace and harmony?’ I said. ‘Arlington is Secretary of State. Once De Witt knew he plotted to spark civil war, there could be no chance of peace.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Josselin waved a hand in my face. ‘If you work for Arlington then you must know he is Catholic.’
‘There are rumours,’ Dowling said, slowly.
‘You heard right when you heard I betrayed De Buat,’ said Josselin, ‘and God forgive me for it, but De Buat will be alright. De Witt cannot punish an ambassador of the House of Orange.’
‘Why did you do it?’ I pressed him.
He clenched his fists. ‘Arlington gave me three letters. The first to De Witt pledging peaceful intent, which letter was a lie. The second letter was intended for De Buat only, encouraging him to rouse the House of Orange to fight for the reinstatement of the Prince of Orange. To fight against the Dutch, in other words. He incited them to civil war.’ He held up a hand. ‘I cannot condemn Arlington for that, for De Witt should have guessed. Indeed it might be a good thing for
the States that they confront their differences and resolve them now rather than let them drag on for years. The sooner the States resolve their differences, the sooner will emerge a stronger Protestant state, an ideal ally for England.’
I shook my head. ‘I still don’t understand why you would betray Arlington. Why distract them from their internal wrangling? By exposing Arlington’s deceit-’
‘It may unite them, it may not.’ Josselin interrupted. ‘But there will be no alliance with England for the time being, which is the right thing, for there can be no alliance with England the way things stand.’
‘What is in the third letter?’ I demanded.
‘You will not believe me until you read it yourself,’ Josselin answered. ‘So you must come with me to St Paul’s and I will show it to you.’
‘What!’ I exclaimed. ‘Tell us now!’
Josselin shook his head slowly, staring into the towering wall of flame. ‘We must climb the wall.’
The flames crept stealthily south and north. The wall stood eight feet tall.
I clambered to my feet. Iron clamps squeezed at my chest, forcing me to bend over double. I cleared my lungs and spat more phlegm.
‘You go first,’ Josselin said to me. ‘We will help you up.’
They both stood six feet tall, cupping their hands for my feet. It was easy to wriggle up on to the top of the wall where I sat straddled, wondering if I might help Dowling, but he waved me out of the way. I peered down into New Queen Street, where people scurried up and down, emptying their houses of all possessions, stacking them on the street. Three families loaded their goods into wagons; the rest would have to manage without, for now the whole city was panicked.