Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

Trembling, the priest nodded.

"Don Alanzo de las Posadas visited you here at the cathedral this very week. What did he want?"

Celino swallowed, his eyes darting towards the chapel where Sister Adelita had been killed.

"Yes, we forced her to ask you these questions. You could have saved her life if you had answered them then," Will said. "Her death is on your conscience. Now ... what did lion Alanzo want?"

Blinking away tears, Celino replied, "To find the most knowledgeable man in all of Spain on matters of the occult, and ancient mysteries, and the secrets of the past."

"And you helped him?"

"Yes-there is such a man in Seville, a great philosopher and alchemist who knows the languages of the ancient Greeks and the Moors and the Arabs, and who owns the most extensive library of occult volumes in existence. His reputation is known only to a few, but I have consulted with him on more than one occasion."

Why would lion Alanzo want to contact such a man so urgently? Will wondered. The Spanish had all the knowledge they needed to use the Silver Skull in the invasion, if not the Shield that allowed protection from it. "Who is he and where do I find him?" Will drew a bubble of blood from Celino's eyelid with the tip of his knife.

"He is of mixed Moorish descent and he has taken the name Abd alRahman after the emir and caliph of Cordoba, a prince of the Umayyad dynasty in the Moorish occupation of our land. His true name is not known." Celino tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. "You will find his shop in the Barrio de Santa Cruz, the Jewish quarter, on Susona Street, just north of Real Alcazar, the royal palace," he croaked.

As Will withdrew the knife, Celino was convulsed by a shudder of relief. "Very good, Father. You live to pray another day."

At his command, Launceston and Carpenter emerged from the chapel dragging a still-living Sister Adelita. They threw her onto the flags before the altar. Gaping in shock, Celino stumbled down to put his arms around her.

"They held a hand over my mouth so I would not call out," she gasped. "I wanted to, Father. Oh, I did ..."

She was a good actress, Will noted.

"You are the Devil himself," Celino growled.

Shrugging, Will returned his knife to its sheath and indicated to Mayhew to begin scouring the rooms along the nave as they had agreed earlier.

"Do you think four Englishman can attack the heart of Spain with impunity?" Celino continued angrily. "We are the most powerful nation in this world and you ... you are nothing but dogs. Your deaths will be upon you before you know it."

"My invasion of Spain is built on more solid foundations than your attack upon England," Will replied, "and I will not be turned away by prayers or curses or all the swords you can muster."

When Mayhew returned, Will gave the signal and Launceston and Carpenter roughly dragged Celino to a small, dark room near the altar that contained the tabernacle. Will and Mayhew accompanied Sister Adelita. As they walked, she kept her eyes ahead and her chin raised defiantly, but she secretly felt for Will's hand and gave it a brief squeeze of support. He returned her touch.

Once Celino and Sister Adelita were in the room, and Will had the large iron key to lock it, he said, "Take heed, Father. No lives have been lost here this day. But if you raise the alarm before we leave Cadiz, I will make it my last act on this Earth to return here and slay you both."

As he closed the door, the last thing he saw was Sister Adelita's face, pale in the growing gloom, and filled with a look of such yearning, it caught him by surprise. He held her gaze for a moment before locking the door.

Slipping the key into his pocket, he led the way to the side door through which they had entered. "We must move fast," Will said. "Celino will be discovered in no time, and he will have the authorities on our heels before the sun has started to move down to the horizon. We must be into Seville and out in a flash. Are you ready for the flight, and the fight, of your lives? Then let us depart!"

CHAPTER 34

lizabeth's incandescent fury terrified the greying men gathered around the meeting room. "One man!" the queen raged. "All our futures are dependent upon one man!"

All eyes looked down. The queen turned her powdered white face from one to another of her circle of closest advisors, waiting for a response.

Walsingham understood their reluctance. Elizabeth was like a storm at sea, as quick to turn from coquettish flirtation to volcanic anger without the slightest warning. But who would tell her that her own indecisiveness had led the country into the desperate strait in which it now found itself?

"Will Swyfe is-" he began.

"Yes, yes! I know all about Master Swyfte's abilities!" she roared. "Now where are the bearers of good news?" The whip-crack in Elizabeth's voice kept all heads bowed. "Lord Walsingham," she pressed. "You still say the Armada will sail shortly?"

"That is the information I have, Your Majesty. There are conflicting reports-some say five hundred ships, some fewer, manned by a good eighty thousand men, perhaps fewer-but ships and men there are, in Lisbon, ready for the off."

Walsingham saw the blood drain from faces at the numbers he had presented. A fleet that large would destroy the English navy in no time.

"Why can you not get good intelligence?" snapped Lord Burghley, the queen's principal advisor. Though a master of statecraft, he was a grey man in both appearance and manner. Too weak by far, Walsingham felt.

"Good intelligence costs money," Walsingham replied sharply. He didn't need to mention that the Treasury was drained after years of slow-bubbling war with Spain. "How go the peace negotiations?"

"Your sarcasm is unwarranted," Burghley responded.

Lord Howard, a fierce but thoughtful man, commanded the English navy. His eyes flickered briefly towards Walsingham before he spoke. "When we received reports last month of Santa Cruz's death, you made the wise decision not to put our fleet to sea," he began.

Liar, Walsingham thought.

"But now Philip will have filled his vacancy and the Armada will have direction again," Howard continued. "More urgency is required in the defence of the realm, I feel."

Walsingham could see Elizabeth evaluating the potential cost.

"Drake calls for the fleet to be based at Plymouth," Howard continued. "From there, it will be better able to guard the full length of the south coast and to prevent any Spanish landing. And he argues most strongly for us to attack the Spanish first. He is a great strategist, as you know, Your Majesty, and he feels this is the best defence."

After a moment's thought, Elizabeth said, "Let us wait for more intelligence."

"If the prince of Parma lands his fierce troops upon England's shores, the battle is lost," Walsingham began cautiously. "We have no army save for the garrison at Berwick and the Yeoman of the Guard. Our fighting men are mainly raw and will be crushed by Parma's warriors. And those of ours who have been hardened by battle can scarcely be trusted. Many are Catholics, many Irish."

Elizabeth's anger drained away at his words. She knew the truth when she heard it.

"We are short of weapons and gunpowder supplies are dangerously low," Walsingham continued, gathering force. "The coastal defences are rudimentary, and in some places construction has not even begun. Once the invasion begins, there is a danger the Catholics within will rise up in force. That James, who lives in mortal fear of the Enemy, will invade from Scotland to gain control of Dee's defences. These are our most desperate times."