LITMIR.BIZ

      A short while later, Jenks had readied the remaining horses. The body of Master Tewkes had been slung over the beast that had carried him to Malmes-Wutton and Sir Francis Walsingham was impatient to be away. Master Dritchly’s remains had been respectfully removed into the manor.

      Within the stables, Lantern was sitting upon Jack Flye’s workbench, keenly watching the boy repair his leg.

      “Nasty bit of harm done here,” the seventeen-year-old declared. “Don’t think it can be mended back to what it was before. Need a whole new limb, this will.”

      Casting an interested eye over the impressive array of tools gathered in the workshop, Doctor Dee tutted into his long white beard. “How inconvenient,” he muttered. “Such skilled work requires time. I rely upon my secretary a great deal. His assistance is invaluable to me, as is his steadfast companionship.”

      Jack scowled. “Master Dritchly might have been able to do it,” he said with undisguised reproach. He resented having to work on anything belonging to those who had caused Edwin’s death and he was tired after so long and bitter a day.

      The other apprentices were leaning on the bench, watching. Although the hour was late and they were both drained after the night’s awful events, they were also eager to see the inside workings of this wonderful creation. Never had they seen such cunning devices; there was a delightful harmony of swinging weights and clicking levers. Wheels spun smooth and silent, while brass chains slipped gracefully across their gears. It was all ingenious and engrossing, but the most fantastic element, which drew a long, low whistle from Henry, was the quantity of ichor.

      The three usual humours were there in long glass cylinders, but next to them was an even larger vessel containing the black cordial – the most expensive of all.

      “This mannikin must be smarter than all of us put together,” Henry marvelled.

      “Imbeciles,” the Doctor commented, “whether human or not, are tiresome society.”

      As the minutes passed, Henry began to nod, but Adam was becoming concerned at Jack’s treatment of Lantern. He was being inordinately rough and ham-fisted. Where gentle, persuasive tappings with a small hammer were required, the older boy bashed and bullied the damaged metal as though venting his anger and frustration.

      Despite being brutalised in this way, Lantern remained quietly tolerant and suffered every fresh attack with remarkable forbearance. He even assisted Jack by passing him the tools he needed and at last Adam saw what was kept inside the tall, conical hat.

      It was a stout candle and, now that it was lit, tiny punctures were revealed over the whole copper surface from which the warm light pricked and twinkled, casting a field of fiery stars across the wall.

      “Is that where he gets his name from?” Adam asked.

      Doctor Dee said that it was not, but he explained no further for he was also beginning to realise that Jack was applying more force than was entirely necessary. Sternly, he drummed his fingers on the bench until the boy moderated his technique.

      “That’s the best I can manage,” Jack said at last. “If I carry on it’ll be doing more harm than good.”

      Lantern was lifted from the bench and set on the floor. But when he tried to walk, he limped so badly that Jack actually looked guilty and embarrassed. The small mechanical hobbled gamely about the workshop, tottering unsteadily between the disassembled sheep and cows which still littered the place. When eventually he halted before his master, he shook his head in such a dejected fashion that Adam felt sorry for him.

      “It’ll need proper attention when you get to London,” Jack said.

      The Queen’s astrologer gave a curt nod and led the faltering Lantern to the door.

      “You did that on purpose,” Adam hissed at Jack.

      The older boy smirked and began climbing the ladder to the hay loft. Adam watched the little mechanical struggle to the yard then ran after both him and his master.

      “Stay a moment,” he pleaded. “I believe I can be of service. The injury may not be as serious as we thought. If you could spare a little while longer.”

      Sir Francis Walsingham was shaking his head, anxious to leave, but Doctor Dee assented and so back to the stables they went. Adam worked quickly. Sitting Lantern upon his own bench he was appalled at the sloppy workmanship of the older apprentice, but made no comment. Carefully, he put new steel pins into the knee joint and tapped out the remaining dents.

      “You are very skilled,” the Doctor complimented. “Previously, in the barn, you excelled with Belladonna where I could not. You know your trade well – I foresee a prosperous future for you.”

      Adam laughed. “Tell that to Henry!” he said indicating the boy who was now lying fast asleep across two sheep in the corner. “He’s the one who wants to be rich.”

      “And you do not share that ambition?”

      “I don’t want to leave Malmes-Wutton. I like it here. This is where they found me and this is where I belong. Lord Richard’s been more than kind – even lets me read the books in his library. The ones he didn’t have to sell, of course.”

      The Doctor was impressed. “A scholar, in addition to your practical accomplishments.”

      Again Adam laughed. “I just like to know things, that’s all.”

      “Knowledge is all,” came the compelling reply.

      Pausing in his work, the boy looked at the old man’s lined face. The pale hazel eyes were ageless, and wisdom more ancient than his august years was written across those brows. Almost without realising what he was saying, Adam asked, “Do you really dig up bodies and speak to the dead?”

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