The Blackthorn Key

“I don’t have a side, Nathaniel,” my master said. “These squabbles don’t involve me.”


“Perhaps gold will, then. With the right connections, the right backing, we could make a fortune—”

“Money is not the issue,” Master Benedict said. “I have no part in any of this. You have the wrong man.”

Stubb snorted. “Pretend all you like. You’ll choose, one way or the other.”

There was a pause. “Is that a threat?” my master said.

Stubb’s voice became as smooth as oil. “Of course not, Benedict. After all, what do I have to do with this sordid business? Nothing. Nothing at all.”

I heard Stubb’s heavy footsteps, then the creak and slam of the front door. For a moment, there was silence. Then Hugh spoke to my master, so quietly that I had to squash my ear against the wood to hear him. “What do we do now?”

“We be careful,” Master Benedict said.

“And if Pembroke talked?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Not everyone can stand under torture,” Hugh said.

“No, but Nathaniel wouldn’t know that, anyway. He’s just guessing.”

“A bloody good guess.”

“Stubb’s not a problem,” Master Benedict said. “It’s that apprentice we need to watch out for.”

I frowned. What apprentice? What did he mean?

“Three of the six were right, Benedict,” Hugh said. “We can no longer tell ourselves this is a coincidence. If Stubb can figure us out, it’s only a matter of time before the others do. Simon’s already fled the city.”

“To where?”

“France. Paris, I think. He’ll have nothing to do with us anymore.”

There was a pause. “Do you want to leave, too?”

“You know I don’t,” Hugh said. “But we can’t keep this up forever. Stubb was right about that. We have to make a choice, and soon.”

My master sighed. “I know.”

? ? ?

When Master Benedict opened the door to the workshop, I pretended I’d just finished with the cask.

“I’m afraid I can’t eat with you tonight,” he said. “I have to go out.”

That wasn’t unusual. Master Benedict often left home in the evening, not returning until well after I’d gone to sleep. “Yes, Master.”

He heard the catch in my voice. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Are you upset about before? Come here.”

He put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry I was cross with you,” he said. “But God’s breath, Christopher, sometimes you make me wonder if Blackthorn will still be standing when I come home. You must think before you act.”

“I know, Master. You were right. I’m not upset about that.” Though I still didn’t want to scrub the floors.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“What did Stubb want?” I said.

“Master Stubb,” he chided gently, “wanted the same thing he always wants. A quick path to riches.”

“Then why was he talking about the murders?”

“Ah. So that’s what’s troubling you.”

Now that I’d finally said it aloud, the rest rushed out like the Thames after the spring thaw. “There’s a gang of assassins on the loose and no one can stop them and Tom thinks it’s the Catholics but his mother thinks it’s the Puritans but I think it’s worse than either and even the king is scared and you knew the last man they murdered and they’re killing apothecaries.” I took a breath.

“So?” Master Benedict said.

“Well . . . we’re apothecaries.”

“We are?” He looked surprised. “So we are! How nice for us.”

“Master.”

He laughed affectionately. “Never mind the murders, boy; your imagination will stop your heart. There is no ‘gang of assassins.’ No one is hunting apothecaries. And Nathaniel Stubb is harmless.”

But he threatened you! I almost cried out, before I realized that would reveal I’d been eavesdropping. I floundered for something to say and finally settled on, “So we’ll be safe?”

“As the king’s breeches,” he said. “Now, settle down. I’m in no danger. And as long as you don’t build any more firearms, neither are you. There’s nothing to worry about.” Master Benedict patted my shoulder. “I promise.”