devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band by richard anderton Read Free Book Online Page B

plenty of reason to hate the Tudors, scoffed at the idea of a risking his neck in a foolhardy rebellion but Thomas was not to be put off.
    “Henry Octavius is not my lawful king, he’s a usurper and the crown of England rightfully belongs to Richardde la Pole exiled Duke of Suffolk. This prince of the Royal House of York is now in Burgundy, waiting for a chance to free his people from the Tudor tyranny, and once I’m at liberty I’ll seek him out. With my knowledge of the secret arts to help him, Richard will soon drive Henry back behind the Welsh mountains where he belongs and so gentlemen, may I propose a bargain? If you aid me in this great endeavour, I’ll make you all rich once the White Rose is crowned Richard IV,” he cried.
    If Thomas had hoped his rousing declaration of loyalty to the last Yorkist pretender to the English throne, and his offer of generous rewards, would change the other prisoner’s minds he was again mistaken. Bos, Prometheus and Quintana simply looked at him as if he were a raving madman, then they roared with laughter and rattled their fetters to remind him that stone walls and iron bars made a very effective prison, even for witches and rebels.
    “It’s a good jest Master Thomas but you can’t raise a rebellion stuck in here!” Quintana laughed.
    “Can you lead an army of rats and lice against Henry,” scoffed Bos.
    “Or maybe turn yourself into a bat and fly to Richard de la Pole through the bars of our dungeon’s window!” Prometheus said, his great shoulders shaking with mirth.
    “Perhaps I will, for I am Merlin reborn and I will place a new Arthur on the throne of England,” said Thomas indignantly but the others continued to howl with laughter, tears rolling down their filthy cheeks, until each man remembered the hopelessness of his own situation.

4
    WESTMINSTER HALL
    T he prisoners’ sullen silence persisted for hours so, with nothing else to occupy his mind, Thomas began to think about the girl who’d aided him the previous night. The little trollop had claimed her sister had shared the king’s bed and the more he considered Quintana’s story the more he became convinced that he’d almost bedded Anne Boleyn, the younger sister of the king’s mistress Mary Boleyn, but his thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the cell’s heavy wooden door. Three brutish men entered the dungeon and without warning began to beat the prisoners, delivering bone-cracking blows with their stout wooden clubs.
    “Back you turds from the arses of diseased dogs, make way for the King’s Officer!” spluttered the fatter of the gaolers. Once the prisoners had been cowed, a man wearing an expensive fur trimmed cloak stepped cautiously into the dungeon. He held a pomander under his nose and placed his feet carefully to avoid the reeking pools of urine and piles of excrement that littered the stone floor.
    “Which one of you abominable creatures is the warlock? I’m commanded by the Lord Chancellor to take the man named Thomas Devilstone to the Court of King’s Bench at Westminster where he must answer for his crimes,” said the visitor.
    At the sound of his name Thomas looked up and he recognised the man at once. It was Richard Rich, one of the pack of unscrupulous lawyers Cardinal Wolsey used to hunt down his enemies and tear them to pieces, sometimes literally. Thomas knew Lord Rich often applied the instruments of torture with his own hand and had a particular fondness for the rack.
    “I’m Thomas Devilstone and I demand to know why I’m being held in this noxious midden?” Thomas replied angrily. The gaolers raised their clubs to deliver the painful retribution such impudence deserved but Rich shook his head.
    “You’re here because the king desires it, so what price your witchcraft now?” said the lawyer, with barely concealed glee.
    “I’m no witch,” Thomas repeated. “All I seek is the wisdom of the ancient philosophers, is it a crime to seek such