‘I can’t leave you down here with him!’ James pointed to the dying lord.
‘If you get possessed again,’ Makepeace said sharply, ‘you will turn on me. You need to keep away from him for my safety.’
‘You’re going to win every argument from now on by talking about “that time you were possessed”, aren’t you?’ James muttered, as he clambered on to a sarcophagus, then placed his foot cautiously on a marble head protruding from the wall. It promptly broke away under his weight, and fell to the floor with a loud smash.
There were sounds of confused voices outside the main chapel door. Evidently Inheritance did not usually involve property damage. Makepeace heard Old Crowe shout a question. This was followed by loud, insistent knocking.
James swore, still hanging off the wall.
Makepeace’s gaze crept back to the slumped shape in the great chair. It still hurt her to see the kindly features of Sir Thomas looking so pale and ill.
‘I’m sorry, Sir Thomas,’ she whispered, even though she knew he was just a shell. ‘I liked you. I’m sorry you never had a proper deathbed. I’m sorry to leave you like this. And I know you died for the sake of the family . . . but I have to stop them. Forever.’
Something had changed in his face, she realized. A light had gone out of it. She had already started backing away when the first ghost seeped out of the corner of his mouth like smoke.
‘James!’ she shouted. ‘They’re coming!’
Her brother was just scrambling over the rail into the gallery. He tugged down a hanging that decorated the back wall, knotted one end to the rail, and tossed the loose end down to dangle from the gallery.
‘Climb this!’
Makepeace ran over and grasped the cloth, and started to climb, using the few treacherous footholds in the wall. Behind her, the air was thickening with whispers.
She was precariously perched on a slender ledge when something shadowy swooped towards her head. She felt it tickle, moth-like, in her ear as it tried to tunnel its way in. Her left foot slipped off, and only her grip on the cloth rope stopped her falling.
Let me do the climbing! hissed Livewell urgently.
He was right. Makepeace could not fight and climb at once. She gave him her hands and feet, and braced for the fight.
She did not know who he was, the Elder-ghost clawing his way into her mind. As their minds bruised each other, she glimpsed memories — a thousand arrows darkening the sky like a thundercloud, ships on fire, bishops kneeling, a library the size of a cathedral. His certainty hit her like a battering ram, and for a moment it shook her will.
What was she doing, refusing to accept her destiny? How could she want so many centuries of memories to be lost? It was like sawing down a millennia-old tree.
But it was a tree with roots that strangled. She was killing the past in self-defence.
I am sorry, Makepeace told the Elder-ghost. Wherever your soul goes next, I hope you find mercy. But I cannot show you any.
Makepeace lashed out with her mind at the attacking ghost, and she could feel the doctor add his will to hers. Bear’s wrath was a furnace. But this ghost was no desperate wisp. It was powerful and cunning, and she could feel it sliding its claws into the weak parts of her defences.
Then Morgan chose her side. She suddenly surged from hiding, and appeared at the other Elder’s side, mingling her strength with his. Makepeace sensed the Elder’s recognition and exultatation — shortly followed by horror as the spymistress tore him in two.
That, remarked Morgan, as his screaming fragments melted away, is a trick that will only work once.
Makepeace reached the rail, and James pulled her on to the gallery. They hastily opened the door, and sprinted down the corridor. Behind them, the air quivered with a thin, musical sibilance as more spirits rose out of Lord Fellmotte and set off in pursuit. The siblings fled down corridor after darkened corridor, then dived into the Map Room to catch their breath.
‘We need to think!’ James pressed his knuckles against his temples and let out a breath. ‘We can’t get out of Grizehayes. Everything’s guarded and locked. But if we keep running long enough, the loose ghosts will melt away. Then, even if we do get captured, at least we can’t be possessed!’
‘We can still be killed!’ Makepeace pointed out. ‘We let Lord Fellmotte’s ghosts bleed into mist! Do you think the family will ever forgive that?’
‘We’re valuable spares, and you’re the only person who knows where their charter is hidden, remember?’ countered James. ‘At least we have a chance of bargaining! They need allies right now, and so do we. That army out there is a bigger threat to all of us. Like it or not . . . we’re all on the same side.’
‘No, James!’ hissed Makepeace with feeling. ‘We’re not!’
‘Then what’s your plan?’
Makepeace steeled herself.
‘We do what the enemy sappers wanted to do,’ she said. ‘We blow a hole in the outer wall. We force Grizehayes to surrender.’
For several seconds, James stared at her in disbelief and horror.
‘No!’ he hissed at last. ‘That’s treason! That’s not just betraying the Fellmottes, that’s betraying the King!’
‘I don’t care!’ Makepeace spat back. ‘I only care about the people who live in this county!’
She drew a ragged breath, and tried to force her thoughts into words.
‘Maybe Sir Marmaduke will turn up and break the siege,’ she said. ‘But Parliament needs this county. They’ll have to send another, bigger army.’
‘So what if they do?’ exclaimed James. ‘You’ve seen how strong our walls are!’ There was an unmistakable note of pride, and Makepeace noticed the ‘our’.
‘Then there’s another siege,’ she answered. ‘A long one. Food runs short in Grizehayes. People start eating dogs, rats and horses. The army outside takes food from all the villages around because otherwise they’ll starve. Winter comes and everybody goes hungry. The trees are cut down and there are fights over firewood. Then people start dying of camp fever.
‘Right now the enemy’s willing to let Grizehayes surrender, which means everybody here would get out alive. What happens to all the women and children and old people if we don’t surrender, and the walls fall later anyway?’
‘Then . . . it could get very ugly,’ James admitted, scowling. He did not go into details.
‘The Fellmottes won’t surrender,’ said Makepeace. ‘And they don’t even care about the King! They’d sacrifice everybody here to keep Grizehayes. Because Grizehayes is their heart, James! I want to strike at their heart.’
The siblings were relieved to find the nearest stairway unguarded, and descended as quickly and stealthily as they could. All was quiet in the darkened passageways around the kitchens. In the fuel store, next to the stacks of logs, they found a number of promising barrels.
‘Are you sure you can make this explode?’ James whispered, as he started carefully rolling a barrel out of the room.
I watched the sappers preparing them, Livewell told Makepeace. There’s no great trick to it. The hard part was always getting close enough to the wall without being shot by the enemy.
Makepeace nodded to herself.
‘That won’t be a problem,’ she told James.
‘Those little pauses,’ said James, ‘when you listen to voices I can’t hear, are not getting any less disturbing.’
They manoeuvred the barrel down into the wine cellar, laying it against the foundations of the western wall.