I climbed to the top of the steps and used the Spook’s key. A moment later I was easing the door open. Once inside the cellar, I closed it behind me but didn’t lock it.

The cellar was very large, with huge barrels of ale and row upon row of dusty wine racks filled with bottles, some of which had clearly been there a long time – they were covered with spiders’ webs. It was deadly silent down here, and unless somebody was hiding and watching me, it seemed completely deserted. Of course, the candle only illuminated the small area around me and beyond the nearest barrels was a darkness that could have hidden anything.

Before he’d left Andrew’s house Brother Peter had told me that the priests only came down into the cellar once a week to collect the wine they needed, and that most of them wouldn’t dream of going down into the catacombs because of the Bane. But he couldn’t promise the same for the Quisitor’s men: they weren’t local and didn’t know enough to be fearful. Not only that; they’d help themselves to the ale and probably wouldn’t be content with just one barrel.

I crossed the length of the cellar cautiously, pausing every ten strides or so to listen. At last I could see the door that led to the corridor and there, in the ceiling to the left, right up against the wall, was a large wooden hatch. We had a similar hatch back home. Our farm had once been called ‘Brewer’s Farm’ because it had supplied ale to neighbouring taverns and farms. As Brother Peter had explained, this trapdoor was used to get barrels and crates in and out of the cellar without the bother of going through the presbytery. And he was right in saying that it would be the easiest way of escaping. If I did use it I’d certainly run the risk of being spotted, but going back towards the Silver Gate would mean possibly facing the Bane, and after being locked up the Spook wouldn’t be strong enough to deal with it. Not only that, there was the Spook’s curse to think about. Whether he believed in it or not, it wasn’t worth tempting fate.

There were big barrels of ale standing on end directly under the hatch. Resting the candle on one and setting the staff to one side, I climbed up onto another and was able to reach the lock, which was set into the wooden hatch so that it could be locked or unlocked from either side. It was simple enough and the Spook’s key worked again, but I left the hatch closed for now in case someone spotted it from above.

I unfastened the door to the corridor just as easily, turning the key very slowly so as not to make any noise. It made me realize how lucky the Spook was to have a locksmith for a brother.

Next I eased open the door and stepped through into a long, narrow, flagged corridor. It was deserted, but about twenty steps ahead, on the right, I could see a flickering torch in a wall bracket above a closed door. It had to be the guardroom that Brother Peter had warned me about. Further down the corridor was a second door, and beyond it stone steps that must lead up to the rooms above.

I walked slowly down the corridor towards the first door, almost on tiptoe and keeping to the shadows. Once close to the guardroom, I could hear sounds coming from within. Somebody coughed, somebody laughed and there was the murmur of voices.

Suddenly my heart was set racing. I’d heard a deep voice very close to the door but before I could hide, the door was flung open with some force. It almost hit me but I stepped back behind it quickly and flattened myself against the rough stones of the wall. Heavy boots stepped out into the corridor.

‘I must get back to my work,’ said a voice that I recognized. It was the Quisitor and he was talking to someone who was standing just inside the doorway!

‘Send someone to collect Brother Peter,’ he continued, ‘and have him brought to me when I’ve finished with the other. Father Cairns may have lost us a prisoner but he knew who was to blame, I’ll say that for him. And at least he had the good sense to report it to me. Bind our good brother’s hands tightly behind his back, and don’t be gentle. Make the cord cut into his flesh so that he knows exactly what he’s facing! It’ll be more than a few harsh words, you can be sure of that. Hot irons’ll soon loosen his tongue!’

By way of answer there came a burst of loud, cruel laughter from the guards. Then the Quisitor’s long black cloak billowed out behind him in the draught as he closed the door and walked quickly towards the steps at the far end of the corridor.

If he turned round he’d see me right away! For a moment I thought he was going to stop outside the prisoners’ cell, but to my relief he continued up the steps and out of sight.

Poor Brother Peter. He was going to be questioned but there was no way I could warn him. And I’d been the prisoner the Quisitor had referred to. They were going to torture him because he’d let me go free! And not only that – Father Cairns had told the Quisitor about me. Now that he had the Spook, the Quisitor would probably come looking for me too.

I had to rescue my master before it was too late for both of us.

I almost made a big mistake then and moved down the corridor towards the cell; however, just in time I realized that the Quisitor’s order would be carried out immediately. Sure enough, the guardroom door opened again and two men came out brandishing clubs and strode away towards the steps.

When the door was again closed from within, I was in full view but my luck held once more and the guards didn’t turn round. After they’d climbed up the steps and out of sight, I waited for a few moments until the echo of their distant boots had faded away and my heart had stopped pounding so loudly. It was then that I heard other voices from the cell ahead. Someone was crying; another chanted in prayer. I rushed towards the sound until I reached a heavy metal door, its top third formed of vertical metal bars.

I held the candle right up close to the bars and peered inside. In the flickering light the cell looked really bad but smelled even worse. There were about twenty people cramped into that small space. Some were lying on the floor and seemed to be asleep. Others were sitting with their backs against the wall. A woman was standing close to the door and it was her voice that I’d heard. I’d assumed she was praying but she was chanting gibberish and her eyes were rolling in her head as if what she’d gone through had driven her insane.

I couldn’t see the Spook and I couldn’t see Alice but that didn’t mean they weren’t inside. These were the prisoners all right. The prisoners of the Quisitor, ready for burning.

Wasting no time, I laid down the staff, unlocked the door and opened it slowly. I wanted to go in and look for the Spook and Alice, but even before the door was fully open the woman who’d been chanting moved forward and blocked my way.

She shouted something out, spitting her words into my face. I couldn’t understand what she said but it was so loud it made me glance back towards the guardroom. Within seconds, others were at her back, pushing her forwards and out into the corridor. There was a girl to her left, no more than a year older than Alice. She had big brown eyes and a kind face, so I appealed to her.

‘I’m looking for someone,’ I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

Before I could say anything else, she opened her lips wide as if to speak, revealing two rows of teeth, some broken, others black with decay. Instead of words,, loud wild laughter erupted from her throat and she immediately set off an uproar from the others around her. These people had been tortured and had spent days or even weeks under the threat of death. It was no good appealing to reason or asking for calm. Fingers jabbed at me and a big, gangling man with long limbs and wild eyes grabbed my left hand hard and began to pump it up and down in gratitude.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’ he cried, and his grip became so tight that I thought he would crunch my bones.