The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,123

door both men, anticipating the arrival of men below them, stood back. The move was a wise one, for, moments later, a ball exploded through the timber and embedded itself in the roof.

“One door closes,” said Quick, as he returned to the window.

“And another door opens; isn’t that how the proverb goes? I see only one other door. Are you really intending to go out there?”

“We have no choice. There are still very few men nearby. But we have to move quickly; news will be on its way out from the tunnel.” Quick checked his weapons – the pair of horse pistols he had been careful to carry from the house. As he prepared them for firing, the door bowed inwards, the impact pushing out clouds of dust from between the boards. But it didn’t give.

“Break it down,” barked a voice from the outside.

There was a flash and a crack from Quick’s pistol and a cry of pain from the man in front of the door, followed by the receding clatter of boots on cobbles. The return of fire was not long in coming. Musket-balls thudded into the outside wall, some of them punching narrow shafts of light into the building before bouncing off the back wall.

It was clear from the volume of incoming fire that more men had arrived in the yard. Quick let go another shot and made to reload his pistols, only to discover that there were just two more lead balls in his pouch. If their chances of escape were poor before, they were almost non-existent now. He returned his attention to the contents of the smithy.

“There is a crucible over there, which means there must be a shot-mould also.”

Owen began to search a bench and its attendant shelves, rooting through tools and all manner of smithing paraphernalia. “Here it is, and also some lead,” he said, handing over a fist-sized ingot.

With one hand working the bellows – forcefully this time – Quick continued to observe the movements of the men in the yard. There were many more of them now, some of them probably from the tunnel, from which there was little sign of activity. His next instruction came as a shock to Owen, even in their extraordinary circumstances. “Empty the coins into the crucible and put it on the coals.”

“But you mean the lead sir, surely?”

Quick threw him a determined glance. “No, the coins, put the coins in the crucible. Do it now!”

“You have seen the devil out there, is that it. You need a silver bullet to kill him?”

“Something like that, now do it.” Whether the unflappable Owen had spoken in jest or not, the reality wasn’t that far from the truth, for Quick had just seen Noyce arrive with his men.

Owen reluctantly righted the upturned crucible and commenced to empty the coins into it, there was just a trickle at first, as though someone had cut a hole in a purse.

“All of them,” yelled Quick.

The choke on the bag was released and a shower of silver fell into the bowl. Using a pair of tongs, Owen manoeuvred the heavily laden vessel into the coals, which were now glowing like the interior of a volcano thanks to Quick’s continued effort with the bellows.

A second shot was delivered from the window, leaving Quick no option but to abandon the bellows while he reloaded with his last remaining shot.

“You said you were an agent of the Spanish,” said Owen, picking up on their interrupted conversation.

“I am an agent in the service of his Catholic Majesty King Phillip of Spain,” he said, dropping in a ball and ramming it down on to the powder. “His Majesty has no connection to those financing your rebellion.”

“But surely they were members of the Royal court? I heard Sir Robert say as much.”

Quick shook his head. “The men with whom your friends had dealings are a rebel group acting outside of the court.” He took another shot with the pistol and grimaced as a ball passed through thin timber close to his head. “They are nobles who lost riches and influence when England and Spain signed a peace treaty not two years past. Their intention was to implicate the Spanish court in the plot and, in so doing, bring about another war.”

Owen was stirring the half-melted coins with a knife, pushing the mass around the crucible as though it were thick gruel in a cooking pot. “And what then is your role in all of this?”

An hour ago Quick had