‘The Spanish have the minds of devils,’ Francis said. ‘Would that we were so inventive.’
‘To the window, Francis,’ Will said. ‘We may have need of a rapid exit.’
Carefully ducking under any wires, Francis edged around the wall until he could open a window. The sounds of the carnival floated in.
‘The rest of the world makes merry while I risk a haircut too far.’ Using the candle to illuminate the wires, Will manoeuvred through them. A few steps from the pedestal his boot slid on the wooden floor. He caught himself before he fell, balancing on the ball of one foot. His hand brushed against a wire, which trembled but did not break. Will and Francis let out their breath in a sigh of relief.
Reaching the pedestal, Will cautiously opened the glass case. The wooden box had a handle carved in the shape of the head of Anubis, and hieroglyphics were etched on the black wood in gold filigree. Will scanned for other traps, but seeing nothing steeled himself and plucked the box out. He held it up triumphantly.
‘How can a plague be trapped inside such a thing?’ Francis asked.
‘Damnably clever, those pyramid builders.’
‘I do not believe it.’
Will held the box towards Francis. ‘Would you take a peek inside?’
The door swung open with a clatter and Spanish guards carrying crossbows rushed in and deployed themselves around the room, carefully staying clear of the network of wires.
Will sighed. ‘’Twas too good to be true. Where is he, then?’
A flamboyant man with a waxed goatee and a red and green diamond costume stepped in. He was charismatic, but with a dark, brooding streak.
‘Don Alanzo De Las Posadas,’ Will said. ‘’Twas not my wish to draw you from the party.’
Don Alanzo smiled. ‘William Swyfte. How fitting to see you dressed as a clown.’
‘My friends call me Will, Don Alanzo. Though last time we met you called me “master”. The wound has healed, I see.’
Don Alanzo unconsciously traced a small scar on his cheek. ‘If I recall, our last fight was curtailed by your cowardly comrades blasting the deck from beneath my feet. You have never bested me in fair swordplay, Swyfte. And you never will.’
‘Only a matter of time. I will prevail … and so will England.’
Amused, Don Alanzo pulled back a drape to reveal a lever. He pressed it down and the intricate network of wires rose above head-height. As one, the Spanish guards pointed their crossbows at Will.
Don Alanzo held out a hand. ‘The box.’
‘Who told you we were here?’
Don Alanzo waited patiently with hand outstretched.
Will flung the box to Francis. ‘Quickly, away! I’ll hold them off.’
Francis caught the box as Will threw himself into the line of crossbows. When the guards didn’t fire, Will looked around to see Francis smiling. He was holding out the box for Don Alanzo to take.
‘A traitor, then,’ Will said sadly. ‘I always gave you the benefit of the doubt, Francis. Remember that.’ His hand a blur, Will stabbed it towards Francis, propelling the knife that had popped from his sleeve. It embedded in Francis’s throat. His look of puzzlement gave way to a frantic gurgling as arterial blood arced across the room. And remember I saved you a trip to the Tower.’
Don Alanzo looked down on Francis’s twitching final moments and said simply, ‘No loss.’ He turned back to Will with a cruel smile. ‘Your own death will not be so quick—’
His words were cut short by a distant high-pitched squeaking, drawing closer, and a rattle that was rapidly transforming into a loud drumming.
Will drew his sword while Don Alanzo’s attention was turned to the door. It burst open a moment later and an undulating wave of rats rushed across the floor. The guards were attacked by the snapping, shrieking army that swarmed up their legs and into their clothes, tearing at flesh, aiming at eyes, fingers and groins.
Don Alanzo lurched away from the flood, thrusting the back of his hand to his mouth in horror.
Will flexed his rapier and prepared to duel. ‘You must feel quite at home, Don Alanzo.’
Don Alanzo launched a surprise thrust that almost caught Will unawares. ‘The Devil is with you,’ he said.
Will pinched his nose. ‘Your hypocrisy is rank.’
As Will advanced, Don Alanzo flicked his rapier above his head. A scythe swept down silently. Will saw it from the corner of his eye and ducked at the last moment, but felt his hair stir in the blade’s passing.
‘Let us dance, then,’ he said, all humour now gone.
Don Alanzo and Will launched into a furious duel, thrusting and parrying as they whirled gracefully around the room. With every strike, one or other of them would whisk their rapier up to slice a wire. The scythes swung back and forth in a lethal rhythm, forcing wilder and more athletic steps from Will and Don Alanzo so there was barely time to breathe.