"The war I fight is a just one. I have the support of the pope himself. God, Master Swyfte, is on my side."
"If God is on any side, it is certainly not the Devil's."
A tremor crossed Philip's face, but before it could spread, Malantha stepped behind him, her hand rising to caress his neck out of sight of Don Alanzo. But she kept her icy eyes on Will the whole time, flaunting her power.
Philip's face hardened. "This world will be a better place when England is crushed."
"Our differences are clear, but what we share is much stronger," Will pressed. "I ask one final time, not as Protestant to Catholic, nor as Englishman to Spaniard, but as a man to another man, as members of the great brotherhood of men, I ask you again, turn away from the path you have chosen. Or else you must suffer the consequences."
Philip gave a weak, boyish laugh. "You stand before me in chains ... on the brink of humiliation, and pain, and death ... and you give we an ultimatum?"
"You should kill me now. It is the only way you will be safe," Will replied calmly, seeing in Philip's eyes that he would not be swayed.
Philip laughed again, but with an unsettled note, before stepping to the door near the altar that led to his private quarters. Before he left, he turned to Malantha and said, "You will come to me tonight?"
"Of course," she said.
A simple smile leapt to the king's lips and he hurried out, closing the door behind him.
"Now the children have left, you can be about your adult business," Will said.
"We have no need to sully our hands with your blood at this point," Malantha replied archly. "For now, only one thing remains to be done."
Barely able to stop himself shaking with emotion, lion Alanzo loomed over Will. "The time for talk has passed. The end of Philip's Enterprise of England and the end of this business begins this night. And your end too. I leave with your friend, Grace, within the hour, to join our Armada and to continue to England."
"What do you plan?" he demanded.
"We will affix the Silver Skull to your friend's head and when she is delivered to England she must choose, between her country and the man she loves," Malantha intoned. "Release the power of the Skull, or see you torn apart as we discussed."
"You will do that anyway."
"We will," Malantha said.
"Grace will choose England," Will stated.
"You truly believe that?" Malantha nodded when she saw the response in Will's eyes. "And in this way we will destroy everything."
CHAPTER 41

ising up like a spectre, Launceston slit the guard's throat, holding his head back by the hair so the gush of arterial blood avoided his uniform. Once the guard's convulsions had ended, Launceston stripped him naked and wrapped the uniform tightly in his cloak.
As they emerged from the dark of the rough land still scattered with the detritus from El Escorial's construction, Carpenter and Mayhew discarded the rattling stones they had used to attract the lone sentry from the approach to the palace. In the shadow of the monolithic building, they studied the clockwork maneuvers of the guards once again.
Carpenter's throwing knife drove deep into the temple of the second sentry. Catching the guard before he fell, Carpenter dragged him back into the shadows, away from the torch under which he had stood.
When the sentry's uniform was secured, Mayhew selected a young guard who had broken off from the patrol to urinate on the edge of the wasteland. But Mayhew's clumsy approach dislodged a shower of rocks down a slope to splash in a muddy pool. Whirling, the guard saw Mayhew as he stumbled towards him, and struggled to lower his pike at the same time as he forced his manhood back in his clothes.
As Mayhew desperately threw himself forwards, the pike head ripped a gash across his cheek. His pained cry shocked the guard so much he dropped both his weapons. Wild with fear that the noise would bring other guards, Mayhew flailed into the sentry. Thrashing together on the ground, Mayhew eventually managed to clamp his hands around his opponent's throat. Spitting and gasping and clawing at Mayhew's face, the guard continued to fight while Mayhew increased the pressure.
Consumed by his desperation, he continued to choke the guard long after any motion had ceased. Carpenter and Launceston finally dragged him off and shook him roughly.
"Steady yourself!" Carpenter hissed vehemently. "You are going to be the death of all of us!"
Once Mayhew had calmed, Launceston rested his hands on his associate's shoulders and said, as if offering friendly advice, "At even the first sign that you are allowing your emotions to run free, I will slit your throat and leave you for dead. Do you understand?"
Mayhew nodded.
Carpenter continued to flash murderous glares at Mayhew as they took the final guard's clothes and wrapped them securely in Mayhew's cloak before dumping all three bodies in the bog.
"What if he does not come?" Mayhew asked.
"This is the hour, this is the night. If he is able, he will be ready for us," Launceston replied. "And if he is already dead or disabled, then we look for the Silver Skull, and then the girl."
"And leave him here?" Carpenter pressed.
Launceston nodded. "We are ready?"
Crossing the wasteland, they were all acutely aware they only had a little time before the sentries were missed and the alarm raised. Further down the slope towards the village, they found their location by nose alone. Like Hampton Court Palace, El Escorial utilised advanced construction techniques: water piped in, waste taken out.
The sewer tunnel emptied onto the slope and flowed away from the palace so the stench never reached the walls. Lined with granite, the sewer was big enough for a grown man to crawl along, as black as pitch with a choking stink that left them all gagging as they stood at the opening. Tying kerchiefs across their mouths and noses, they fixed their cloak bundles on their backs, and then exchanged a brief glance as they decided who would go first.
With a shake of his head, Launceston dropped to his knees and splashed into the sewer. Carpenter roughly thrust Mayhew next, before taking up the rear. Within seconds, they were all coughing and spluttering, swearing profusely, yet obliquely thankful that the vile smell distracted them from the oppressive claustrophobia of the dark, stifling space.
After five minutes of slow progress, Mayhew had a revelation. "This is our lives in essence," he spat. "Crawling through shit and piss towards an uncertain future."
"At least on this occasion you can keep your head above the surface," Launceston replied. "We should be thankful for that."
A little further on, Launceston came up hard against an obstruction. Feeling around in the dark, he realised it was an iron grille. Just as he informed the others, there was a loud click as a hidden switch was triggered and another grille slid into place behind Carpenter. Mayhew whimpered loudly.
"I dare you to panic," Carpenter growled.
"A cage ... !" Mayhew began before fighting to calm himself.
Calmly, Launceston defined the shape of the grille with his hands. "We knew we would not be allowed free access to the palace. The Spanish are the spawn of hell, but they are not fools."
Mayhew's ragged overbreathing echoed in the confined space, but he knew better than to speak. Launceston withdrew one of the sachets of powder that Dee had given them before they left London and rested it on the point where the grille was bolted into the stone. "This is not as potent as the mixture Will carries, but it should suffice," Launceston said. "Press back and cover your faces. This will not be pleasant."
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