When they dragged the Spook outside, he looked old and frail. Perhaps a little afraid too, but I was too far away to be sure.

‘Well, John Gregory, you’re mine at last!’ cried the Quisitor, in a loud, arrogant voice. ‘Those dry old bones of yours should burn well!’

The Spook didn’t answer. I watched them tie his hands behind his back and lead him away down the street.

‘All these years, then it comes to this,’ muttered Andrew. ‘He always meant well. He doesn’t deserve to burn.’

I couldn’t believe it was happening. I had a lump in my throat so big that, until the Spook had been taken round the corner and out of sight, I couldn’t even speak. ‘We’ve got to do something!’ I said at last.

Andrew shook his head wearily. ‘Well, boy, have a think about it and then tell me just what we’re supposed to do. Because I haven’t a clue. You’d better come back to my place and at first light get as far away from here as possible.’

CHAPTER 8

Brother Peter’s Tale The kitchen was at the back of the house, overlooking a small flagged yard. As the sky grew lighter, Andrew offered me some breakfast. It wasn’t much, just an egg and a slice of toasted bread. I thanked him but had to refuse because I was still fasting. To eat would mean I’d accepted that the Spook was gone and that we wouldn’t be facing the Bane together. Anyway, I didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry. I’d done what Andrew had suggested. Since the Spook had been taken I’d spent every single moment thinking of how we could save him. I thought about Alice too. If I didn’t do something, they were both going to burn.

‘Mr Gregory’s bag is still in my room at the Black Bull,’ I suddenly remembered, turning to the locksmith. ‘And he must have left his staff and our cloaks in his room at the inn. How will we get them back?’

‘Well, that’s one thing I can help you with,’ Andrew said. It’s too risky for either of us to go, but I know someone who could pick them up for you. I’ll see to it later.’

While I watched Andrew earing, a bell started to ring somewhere in the distance. It had a single dull tone and there was a long pause between each chime. It sounded mournful, like the tolling of a funeral bell.

‘Is that from the cathedral?’ I asked.

Andrew nodded and carried on chewing his food very slowly. He looked as if he’d as little appetite as I had.

I wondered if it was calling people to an early morning service, but before I could say as much Andrew swallowed his piece of toast and told me, ‘It means another death at the cathedral or at some other church in the town. Either that or a priest’s died somewhere else in the County and the news has only just got here. It’s a common sound here these days. I’m afraid any priests who question the darkness and corruption in our town are swiftly dealt with.’

I shuddered. ‘Does everybody in Priestown know it’s the Bane that’s the cause of the dark times?’ I asked. ‘Or just the priests?’

‘The Bane’s common enough knowledge. In the area closest to the cathedral most folk have had the doors to their cellars bricked up, and fear and superstition are rife. Who can blame the townsfolk when they can’t even rely on their own priests to protect them? No wonder congregations are dwindling,’ Andrew said, shaking his head sadly.

‘Did you finish the key?’ I asked him.

‘Aye,’ he said, ‘but poor John won’t be needing it now.’

We could use it,’ I said, speaking quickly so that I could finish what I was saying before he stopped me. ‘The catacombs run right under the cathedral and presbytery, so there could be a way up into them. We could wait until dark, when everyone’s asleep, and get up into the house.’

‘That’s just foolishness,’ Andrew said, shaking his head. ‘The presbytery’s huge, with a lot of rooms both above and below ground. And we don’t even know where the prisoners are being held. Not only that, there are armed men guarding them. Do you want to burn as well? I certainly don’t!’

‘It’s worth a try,’ I insisted. ‘They won’t expect anyone to come up into the house from below with the Bane down there. We’ll have surprise on our side and maybe the guards will be asleep.’

‘No,’ Andrew said, shaking his head firmly. ‘It’s madness. It’s not worth two more lives.’

‘Then give me the key and I’ll do it.’

‘You’d never find your way without me. It’s a maze of tunnels down there.’

‘So you do know the way?’ I said. ‘You’ve been down there before?’

‘Aye, I know the way as far as the Silver Gate. But that’s as far as I’d ever want to go. And it’s twenty years since I went down there with John. That thing down there nearly killed him. It could kill us too. You heard John: it’s changing from a spirit, shape-shifting into God knows what. We could meet anything down there. Folk have spoken of ferocious black dogs with huge, snarling teeth; venomous serpents. The Bane can read your mind, remember, take the shape of your worst fears. No, it’s too dangerous. I don’t know which fate is worse – being burned alive at the stake by the Quisitor or pressed to death by the Bane. They’re not choices a young lad should be making.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ I said. ‘You deal with the locks and I’ll do my job.’

‘If my brother couldn’t cope, then what hope have you? He was still in his prime then and you’re just a boy’

‘I’m not daft enough to try and destroy the Bane,’ I said. ‘I’d just do enough to get the Spook to safety.’

Andrew shook his head. ‘How long have you been with him?’

‘Nearly six months,’ I said.

‘Well,’ said Andrew, ‘that tells us everything, doesn’t it? You mean well, I know that, but we’d just be making things worse.’

‘The Spook told me that burning’s a terrible death. The worst death of all. That’s why he doesn’t hold with burning a witch. Would you let him suffer that? Please, you’ve got to help. It’s his last chance.’

This time Andrew didn’t say anything. He sat for a long time, deep in thought. When he did get up from his chair, all he said was that I should stay out of sight.

That seemed a good sign. At least he hadn’t sent me packing.

I sat in the back, kicking my heels, as the morning slowly wore on. I hadn’t slept at all and I was tired, but sleep was the last thing on my mind after the events of the night.

Andrew was working. Most of the time I could hear him in his workshop, but sometimes there was a tinkle from the doorbell as a customer entered or left the shop.

It was almost noon before Andrew came back into the kitchen. There was something different in his face. He looked thoughtful. And walking right behind him was someone else!

I came to my feet, ready to run, but the back door was locked and the two men were between me and the other doorway. Then I recognized the stranger and relaxed. It was Brother Peter and he was carrying the Spook’s bag and staff and our cloaks!

‘It’s all right, boy,’ Andrew said, walking up and laying his hand on my shoulder in reassurance. Take that anxious look off your face and sit yourself back down. Brother Peter is a friend. Look, he’s brought you John’s things.’

He smiled and handed me the bag, staff and cloaks. I accepted them with a nod of thanks and put them in the corner before sitting down. Both men pulled chairs out from the table and sat facing me.

Brother Peter was a man who’d spent most of his life working in the open air and the skin on his head was weathered by the wind and sun to an even shade of brown. He was as tall as Andrew but didn’t stand as upright. His back and shoulders were bent, perhaps with too many years working away at the earth with a trowel or hoe. His nose was his most distinctive feature; it was hooked like a crow’s beak, but his eyes were set wide apart and had a kindly twinkle. My instincts told me that he was a good man.