"Where is the weapon now?" Dee asked.
Once Will had spoken his piece, Mayhew added, "The operation was well planned and efficiently executed." He cast a furtive eye towards Walsingham. "When I was given my post, I was told the Tower was under special protection, even beyond the protection that keeps England safe."
"It is," Dee replied. "And how those defences were breached remains a mystery."
"That need not concern us now," Walsingham interrupted. "Master Swyfte, you are charged with finding the weapon before it can be used and bringing it back to our control, or destroying it, whichever course is necessary. But first you must be apprised of the facts of the matter."
Sifting through the charts on the table, he came to one of the New World and traced his finger along the coastline until he came to the name San Juan de Ulua in the Spanish territories, the main port for the shipment of silver back to Spain.
"A poor harbour by English standards," Walsingham said. "Little more than a shingle bank to protect it from the storms. Twenty years ago, on December 3, 1568, John Hawkins put in for repairs to his storm-damaged trading fleet, including two of the queen's galleons."
"Into a Spanish port?" Mayhew said, surprised.
"Hawkins paid his taxes and more besides. In the past the Spanish had always left him alone once their coffers were full. But on this occasion their own spies had told them there was more to Hawkins's visit than the repair of rigging and the patching of hulls." Walsingham looked to Dee.
"Since I first arrived at court," Dee began, "I have been advising the queen on the threat that has faced England since the Flood. Every moment of my life has been directed towards finding adequate defences to protect the Crown, the people, the nation."
"And you have succeeded. England has never been safer," Will noted.
"We can never rest, for the Enemy are wise as snakes, and all of their formidable resources are continually directed towards recapturing the upper hand they once enjoyed. And so we too search for new defences, new weapons." In Dee's eyes, the gleam of the candles suggested an inner fire raging out of control.
"My enquiries into the secrets of this world pointed me towards a weapon of immeasurable power that the Spanish were attempting to unlock in the hills not far from San Juan de Ulua," Dee continued. "So fearful were they of the weapon that the king had insisted it be tested far away from the homeland. A weapon that had brought devastation to the great rulers in the far Orient. A weapon that had surfaced during the Crusades and had been fought over by the Knights Templar and the enemies of Christendom." Dee looked from one to the other, now incandescent with passion. "With a weapon like that, England would be a fortress. The Enemy would retreat to their lakes and their underhills and their lonely moors and we would be safe. Finally."
"What is the nature of the weapon?" Will asked.
"Therein lies the greatest mystery of all." Kneading his hands, Dee paced the room. A tremor ran through him. It is a mask, a silver skull etched with the secret incantations of the long-forgotten race that first created it. A mask that must be bonded with a mortal to unleash its great power. But all we have are stories, fragments, hints. The nature of that power is not known. All that is known for sure is that nothing can stand before it and survive."
"So Hawkins was charged with seizing the weapon from the Spanish," Will surmised.
"That, at least, was England's fervent hope," Walsingham replied. "While his fleet was being repaired, Hawkins, Francis Drake, and a small group of men slipped secretly into the interior. Five men gave their lives to secure the skull from the Spanish, but before Hawkins could reach his ships, the viceroy, Don Martin Enriquez, took his fleet into the harbour and launched an attack while the English guard was down. Hawkins, Drake, and a small crew escaped in two ships, but the remainder of the English party were tortured and killed by the viceroy as he attempted to discover what we knew about the skull." A shadow passed over Walsingham's face that was like a bellow of rage against his usual detachment. "One of the few survivors, job Hortop, told how the Spanish dogs hanged Hawkins's men from high posts until the blood burst from the ends of their fingers, and flogged them until the bones showed through their flesh. But not a man spoke of the skull. Heroes all."
Nodding in agreement, Mayhew bowed his head for a moment.
"Hawkins and Drake returned in two storm-torn ships with just fifteen men," Walsingham said. "Eighty-five stout fellows had starved to death on the journey home. But the skull was ours."
Several elements of the story puzzled Will. "Then why did we not use this great weapon to drive back the Enemy, and our other, temporal enemies. Spain would not be so bold if it knew we held such a thing," he asked.
"Because the skull alone is not enough," Dee replied sharply to the note of disbelief in Will's voice. "The stories talk of three parts-a Mask, a Key, and a Shield. All are necessary to use the weapon effectively, though its power can be released without direction and with great consequences for the user by the Mask and Key alone."
Mayhew refilled his goblet, his hands shaking. "And the Key and the Shield?"
"The last twenty years were spent in search of them, to no avail," Walsingham replied. "They were for a time in the hands of the Knights Templar, this we know for sure."
"And those warrior monks fought the Enemy long before us," Dee stressed. "The Templars must have known of the importance of these items and hid them well."
"Then who was the prisoner in the Tower?" Will enquired.
"Some Spaniard who had been cajoled into trying to make the Mask work. What he cannot have realised is that, once bonded, the Mask cannot be removed until death," Dee said. "You are a slave to it, as it is to you."
Will finally understood. "And so he was locked away in the Tower for twenty years while you attempted to find the other two parts."
"We could not risk the weapon falling into the hands of the Enemy in case they located the Key," Walsingham said, "and brought devastation down upon us all."
"But after twenty years, the Enemy chose this night to free the prisoner from the Tower," Will pressed. "Why now, unless the Key is already in their hands?"
Walsingham and Dee exchanged a brief glance.
"What do you know?" Will demanded.
"The Enemy's plans burn slowly," Dee replied. "They do not see time like you or I, defined by the span of a man's life. Their minds move like the oceans, steady and powerful, over years and decades, and longer still. Yet we knew some great scheme was in motion, just not its true nature."
"When the defences of the nation were first put in place, all was quiet for many years." Walsingham stood erect, his hands clasped behind his back. "The hope grew that finally we would be safe. But then there came the strange and terrible events surrounding the execution of the traitor Mary, Queen of Scots, one year ago and we glimpsed the true face of the terror that was to come."
CHAPTER 4
18th February 1587
ll through the bitter winter's night, Robert, earl of Launceston, had ridden, and finally in the thin, grey morning light his destination fell into view on the rain-soaked Midlands terrain. His fingers were frozen on the reins, his breeches sodden and mud-splattered, and his bones ached from the cold and exhaustion.
Launceston was hardly used to such privation, but he could not refuse his orders to be the eyes and ears of Lord Walsingham for the momentous event about to take place. Though thirty-eight, he looked much older. His skin had an unnatural, deathly pallor that many found repulsive and had made him something of an outcast at court, his nose long and pointed, his eyes a steely grey.