‘You are trapped down here,’ said Nicholas, restraining him. ‘This is work for me. I, too, have a personal stake in this. Caspar will not go unpunished, I assure you. What I need from you, Doctor Royden, is your help.’
‘Help? What help can I give?’
‘The key to the laboratory.’
‘Caspar has it.’
‘There is no duplicate?’
‘None.’
‘Could the door be easily forced?’
‘No,’ said Royden. ‘It has been strengthened. The laboratory contains things of great value. They need to be protected. A battering ram would be needed on that door.’
‘Is there no other way in?’
‘Not without that key.’
‘Think hard, sir,’ urged Nicholas. ‘If that key were lost, if you and Caspar were locked out and had somehow to get back into the room-how would you do it?’
Royden ran a pensive hand through his spiky hair.
‘There is one way, I suppose. But only a brave man would even attempt it. A very brave and very foolish man.’
***
His silence was disconcerting. In its own way, it was as frightening as the other’s speech. Anne Hendrik knew that her captor was in the room but she could not draw a single word out of him. He had given her food and left the gag off her mouth. Was he himself eating? Was he close? Was he at the far end of the room? Or was he simply watching her?
‘I know that you’re there,’ she said.
No answer. Was he sitting or standing?
‘Don’t you understand English?’
Still no response. Had he been ordered to say nothing?
‘Where am I?’ she asked. ‘At least, tell me that.’
There was a creaking sound as he shifted his position on a chair. It was barely a yard away. Anne was unsettled by the idea that he was so near to her, then a new thought struck her. The other man had done all the talking. His accomplice had been careful not to speak to her directly. The conversation between the two men had taken place some distance away, so that she could not hear him properly. There was a reason for that.
‘Do I know you?’ she challenged.
Words at last came but they were not from him.
‘What ho! Within there!’
It was the voice of Lawrence Firethorn, accompanied by a banging on the door. Before she could cry out, the gag was back in place, tied tighter than ever. Firethorn knocked harder.
‘We need your help, sir! Are you there?’
She heard him walk down the room towards the door. There was a third shout from Firethorn, then he seemed to give up. A full minute passed before the door was unlocked, opened and locked again from the outside. Anne was in despair. Help had been within reach and she had been unable to call for it. She struggled hard against her bonds, but the ropes were too secure. A scraping sound drifted into her ear. She stopped to listen. It was coming from outside the room and getting closer.
***
Nicholas Bracewell had borrowed the rope from one of the ostlers in the castle stables. The bribe had been too generous for the man to refuse. Up on the roof of the palace, Nicholas tied one end to the pole which bore the Bohemian flag and let the rest of the rope hang down the front of the building. He was at the highest point in the city. A fall would mean certain death, but he did not hesitate. Taking the rope in both hands and pushing himself out with his feet, he began the perilous descent.
The secret, he knew, was not to look down. Three years at sea with Drake had taught him how to swarm up the rigging and stay aloft even in bad weather. There was no swell to contend with here, no rocking movement of the mast to make a climb more hazardous. At the same time, he realised, there was no sea to break his fall if he was hurled off, no swirling waves from which he could be retrieved by helpful shipmates. As he inched his way down the front of the building, there was no margin for error. Darkness was an enemy.
When his foot slipped, he was left dangling in mid-air for a few moments and had to adjust his position quickly. Sweat broke out on his brow and his weight began to tax his muscles. The slow descent continued. As befitted a man who, among many other things, was a skilled mathematician, Royden’s instructions had been extremely precise. He had told Nicholas where to tie the rope and exactly how far down the window of the laboratory would be. After hanging in space for what seemed like an age, the climber was relieved when one foot made contact with the sill. It allowed him to pause, to rest, to take stock.
Reaching the window was only half of the battle. He still had to gain entry. The shutters were locked firmly from the inside. With both feet on the sill, Nicholas kept one hand on the rope and used the other to take out the dagger which had been lent to him by Firethorn. Its blade was long and thin but it could still not be inserted between the shutters to flick up the catch. There was only one means of entry and that was by brute force.
Nicholas slipped the dagger back into his sheath and took a firm grip on the rope with both hands. Then he pushed himself off and swung away from the building. For a split second, he was suspended in the middle of a black void, then he swung back towards the window and kicked hard at the moment of impact. The catch broke, the shutters burst open and he was into the laboratory in a flash. Candle-light illumined the captive.
‘Anne!’ he exclaimed.
She wriggled in her chair and made what sound she could.
Nicholas moved quickly. Checking that they were alone, he raced across to embrace her before tearing off the blindfold and the gag. His dagger started to cut through her bonds.
‘Thank God!’ she said through tears of relief.
‘Have they harmed you?’
‘Only by taking me away from you. Where am I?’
‘In Doctor Royden’s laboratory.’
‘Why here?’ she said, looking around.
‘I will explain later,’ he said, slicing through the ropes around her ankles. ‘There-you are free.’
Anne tried to stand but almost keeled over. Nicholas held her in his arms, then lowered her gently back into the chair. He looked furtively around.
‘How many of them are there?’ he asked.
‘Two. One was left to guard me.’
‘Caspar Hilliard.’
‘That young man we met?’ she said in disbelief.
‘I fear so, Anne.’
‘But he was so pleasant and helpful when he met us.’
‘What better way to throw suspicion away from himself?’
‘The other man is German,’ she said. ‘I recognised his voice. It was the one I overheard on the Peppercorn.’
‘Let us worry about Caspar first,’ said Nicholas, as he moved to the door. ‘He will be back soon. Lawrence Firethorn was to distract him while I found a way in. He will not be able to keep him away for long.’
Even as he spoke, they heard the scrape of the key in the lock. Waving Anne away, Nicholas darted across to the door and stood behind it. Caspar came in and gaped when he saw the open shutters. Nicholas was on him at once, grabbing him by the shoulders to run him across the room and dash him against the opposite wall. All the breath was knocked out of him. Before he knew what was happening, the young assistant was turned around and flung down on his back. Nicholas pinned him to the floor and held a dagger at his throat.
‘Remember me?’ he asked.
***
Even the joy of knowledge could not hold him. Books which had offered Talbot Royden an escape for his mind were now cast aside. He paced his cell in a frenzy. The visit from Nicholas Bracewell had opened his eyes to the full horror of his position. Caspar Hilliard, his trusted assistant, had betrayed him in every way. As a man, as a Protestant agent, and as an alchemist, he had been the victim of calculated treachery. The assistant whom he had loved and schooled had ruined him. Royden had lost his position at Court and his reputation. If the Emperor became more vengeful, worse might follow.
He threw himself at the iron bars in the door and tried to shake them, but he was far too puny. His energy was soon spent. He flung himself to the floor in despair, but even that worked against him. As he hit the straw with a thud, the sudden displacement of air made two white feathers rise up and float teasingly. Royden saw them out of the corner of his eye and groaned. Even in a dungeon, he was not safe from Doctor John Mordrake.