Will Shakespeare and the Pirate’s Fire. Robert J. Harris

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      “No trouble,” Will assured him. “Master Beeston has brought Dr Dee some books.”

      “Books,” said Caleb with a sniff. “If less was spent on books, we could buy more oil for the lamps, more fuel for the fire.”

      He started down the passage, walking in a peculiar stooped gait. “The doctor is this way,” he growled over his shoulder, with a curt nod towards the lighted doorway.

      Will picked himself up and followed his sullen guide. As he approached the door the whirring noise grew louder and more sinister and he felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

      “What’s going on in there?” he asked.

      Caleb shrugged his twisted shoulders. “It’s the doctor,” he said flatly, as if that were explanation enough. Stepping aside, he caught Will by the arm and launched him forward as he flung the door open. Will stumbled into the room and almost screamed as a monstrous flying shape swooped down on him from above.

      It was a gigantic beetle, as big as a horse. Its pincer-like jaws snapped like a pair of clashing swords and its wings fluttered furiously as it bore down on him. Will jumped back, bumping into Caleb who was blocking the doorway. A rush of air ruffled Will’s hair as the monster whirled past, the light of a nearby lantern flashing off the silver-blue sheen of its body.

      “Don’t just stand there!” boomed a voice. “Lend me a hand!”

      Snapped out of his shock, Will saw that there were ropes attached to the huge insect, guiding it in a circular path around the room. He ducked as it swept by again, its jaws chomping, its six legs flailing.

      Caleb shoved past and scuttled over to where one of the ropes was attached to a winch. He seized the handle and with a strenuous effort started to crank it.

      “You too, boy!” came the commanding voice.

      On the far side of the spinning monstrosity, Will could see someone waving him towards another rope that was secured to a hook. As he walked towards it, the voice shouted, “Untie it and pull it taut!”

      There was a snap of authority in the words that prompted Will to obey. Loosing the rope, he grasped it tightly in both hands and was almost yanked off his feet as the beetle careered past him.

      “Hold firm and pull!” came the order.

      Will planted his feet firmly and heaved back on the rope. It fed through an overhead apparatus of cogs, shafts and wheels before attaching itself to the body of gigantic insect. Will’s fear lent him strength, for he was sure that if he let go, the beetle would pounce on him and use those awful pincers to rip the flesh from his bones.

      He hauled with all his might until the rope was taut, wondering how anyone could have captured this monster. Then the truth dawned on him. As the beetle slowed down he could see it was no living creature, but a clever construct of wood, plaster and paint, as false as the props used by Lord Strange’s Men.

      He saw Caleb cranking the handle with single-minded determination, reining the huge insect in, while the doctor pulled and pushed at a sequence of coloured levers. As the anchor ropes tightened, the monster stopped dead at a central point above their heads. Its jaws gave a final click, the wings twitched to a standstill and at last it dangled lifelessly in the air.

      The master of the house came out from behind his levers and circled the floor under the beetle. He stroked his wavy silver beard as he scrutinised the machinery that held the creature in place. His face was flushed with exhilaration as if the whole exercise had been a huge bit of fun, oblivious to the horrid ordeal Will had experienced.

      Steel-grey hair curled up under the brim of his round scholar’s cap and a long blue robe hung down to his feet, making him resemble a priest or – Will could not help the thought – a wizard.

      “It still needs a few adjustments, Caleb,” he said. “I’ll give you a list of the parts I’ll need.”

      “Yes, doctor,” Caleb answered dully.

      Dr John Dee turned to Will as if noticing him for the first time. “And what’s this you’ve dragged in? He looks like he’s been mislaid.”

      “I caught him sneaking round the house,” said Caleb. “He says he’s here with somebody called Beeston.”

      “Henry Beeston?”

      “The same, sir,” said Will. “He’s waiting at your front door and I’m sure he’d be obliged if you’d let him in out of the rain.”

      “No doubt he would,” Dr Dee agreed. “Caleb, go and fetch Master Henry Beeston up to the library.”

      Caleb slouched resentfully out of the room, without a word.

      “What are you doing in here?” Will asked.

      “Isn’t it obvious?” said Dee. “I’m building a giant mechanical beetle. I modelled it on the scarab, the beetle god of the ancient Egyptians.”

      “I can see that,” said Will, “but why?”

      “Now you’re asking a sensible question,” Dee beamed. He headed for the door, leaving Will still gaping up at the huge insect. “I wouldn’t hang around here,” he advised, plucking a lantern from the wall. “It might fall down at any moment and crush the life out of you.”

      Will hurriedly followed Dee out the door. As they headed down the passageway, he saw the doctor moving his fingers in intricate patterns, as though he were assembling some device in the air in front of him.

      Suddenly he stopped and thrust a decisive finger upward, his face lit up with sudden inspiration. Then he frowned. “No, that won’t work,” he concluded, brushing the thought away with a sweep of his hand that made his long sleeve flap like a ship’s sail.

      The doctor threw open a door and stepped into a room filled with jars, bottles and flasks of powder, arranged on a set of shelves that went all the way up to the ceiling. He retreated rapidly, closing the door with a puzzled expression.

      “That’s not right,” he sighed. “I sometimes think I should put up signs.”

      “I suppose that would help,” Will said politely.

      Two more doors failed to open on to the correct room, but Dee just laughed. “I know what you’re thinking, my young friend. You’re thinking that this house surely isn’t large enough to contain so many rooms.”

      “That’s not what I was thinking,” said Will.

      “It isn’t?” Dee looked genuinely surprised. “That’s odd. I think that all the time.”

      In fact Will was thinking that Doctor John Dee was the strangest man he had ever met and he wondered what other horrific devices he had constructed. He felt an almost overwhelming impulse to run for his life, but he was afraid he would become hopelessly lost in this unearthly house. Will didn’t know about wizards, but he had no doubts that he was trapped here with a pair of dangerous lunatics.

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