The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,214

again and nudged it towards Quare with the toe of one stained boot, as if afraid to draw too close to his prisoner … or to the no-doubt vermin-infested straw on which he lay. Upon the tray was a wooden bowl of grey and greasy porridge and a wooden mug filled with something that had the look of small beer. ‘Go on,’ he urged when Quare made no move to take the tray. ‘It ain’t gonter kill yer.’

Quare wasn’t convinced of that. But he had other things on his mind than hunger and thirst. ‘Where’s Aylesford?’

‘Gone, ain’t he?’ Cornelius replied. ‘’ippity-opped back ter Froggy land wif that ticker o’ yers. Good riddance, says I. Give me the creeps, it did, glowin’ like the devil’s own pocket watch!’

‘He must be stopped, Mr Cornelius! The hunter must be destroyed. Surely he can’t have got far by now! We have to go after him before it’s too late!’

Cornelius gave an ugly laugh. ‘You been dead to the world for more than a day, Quaresie, old boy. Mr Aylesford is on ’is way across the Channel by now and no mistake.’

‘Then I demand to speak with your king at once. There is no time to lose.’

‘Perhaps you’ve not noticed that you are chained ter the wall in a prison cell. That is ’cause you are a prisoner. As such, Mr Quare, you are not in a position ter demand anyfing – certainly not an audience wif ’is Majesty.’

‘Then you must take him a message. Tell him—’

Cornelius kicked suddenly and viciously at the tray he’d deposited on the floor, scattering everything on it. The bowl struck Quare in the shoulder, dumping its slimy contents along the side of his face and down his neck; the thick goop smelled of mushrooms. ‘What, do you fink I’m to be ordered about like a bleedin’ errand boy? You fink ’cause I’m a lowly Morecockneyan, that makes you my master? Is that it?’

‘No …’

Cornelius ignored him. ‘You surface dwellers are all the same. Fink you’re better than us ’cause yer ’appen ter live under open sky. Well, that’s about ter change, fanks to ’is Majesty.’

‘I don’t understand you,’ Quare protested, angry himself now. ‘Granted, you live below the surface of London … but this is still English soil, is it not? English blood runs in your veins. The bonds of history and family tie you to the surface and those who live upon it, burrow however deep you like. Yet you conspire with England’s enemies; indeed, you have given them a weapon more potent and deadly than you – or they – know.’

‘’At’s where you’re wrong, Quaresie. ’Is Majesty knows more than you fink. More than Aylesford finks.’

‘Who is your king?’ Quare asked.

‘Wouldn’t yer like ter know,’ Cornelius replied, laying a thick finger alongside his carbuncle of a nose. ‘Suffice it ter say, ’is Majesty knows very well what is likely to transpire when Mr Aylesford reaches France. Indeed, I dare say ’e is countin’ on it.’

‘Does he imagine, then, that what is about to be loosed upon the world will stop at the surface, and that you people will be safe from it here? If so, I fear he is very much mistaken.’

‘Might be ’e is. Might be ’e ain’t. I reckon we’ll just ’ave ter wait and see. But if I was you, I’d be finkin’ less about Mr Aylesford and more about me own prospects.’

‘I don’t imagine they are any too bright.’

‘They are not bright at all, Quaresie. In fact, you might say they are black as pitch.’

‘So, you mean to kill me, then.’

‘There’ll be a trial first. We ’ave judges and juries ’ere, just like up above.’

‘And what am I charged with?’

‘A capital crime. Trespassin’.’

‘What? Trespassing? You would kill a man for that?’

‘Aye, we would. If Mr Pitt should ’ear of us, ’e’d ’unt us down like so many rats. Don’t fink it ain’t ’appened before.’

‘Why not just kill me now and get it over with?’ Quare said bitterly.

‘That would be murder, not justice. ’Oo knows? Perhaps yer barrister will speak wif such eloquence as ter persuade the jury ter acquit – though I wouldn’t count on it. I wouldn’t count on it at all.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Because ’is Majesty ’as done me the great ’onour o’ appointin’ me ter act in that capacity,’ Cornelius said. With a mocking bow, he turned to go.

‘Wait,’ called Quare.

Cornelius looked back from the doorway.

Quare raised his bandaged stump; he could not help but notice that the bloodstains had