Read The Blast That Tears the Skies (2012) for Free Online

grimy window, Musk could see the myriad masts of the ships in the Pool of London, and behind them, the squat, menacing walls of the Tower.
    ‘The French and the Dutch?’ scoffed Musk. ‘Calvinist and papist? Republic and monarchy – aye, and the most absolute monarchy of them all, at that? Oh yes, my friends, a recipe for a lasting amity, that!’
    The argument progressed by degrees to the stage of red faces and the slamming of tankards upon tables. Musk was on the point of walking away to find a quieter berth when he heard his name being called.
    ‘Musk! Is a Phineas Musk here?’
    It was a boy, one of those knowing lads of twelve or thirteen who would always run an errand for some pennies or a jug of ale. Musk identified himself and the lad handed over a small slip of paper. The wax seal bore no imprint. Musk tore it open and looked upon the message within: 34. 51. 9. 77. P. ’
    ‘You all right, Phin?’ asked the farrier. ‘Looks like you’ve seen one of your froggy demons.’
    ‘Need to go,’ mumbled Musk.
    ‘Pay for yer share of the ale, then, yer skinflint whoreson!’
    Agitated beyond reason, Musk hurried away and made along the shore toward Lambeth marsh. By the time he reached his destination, close by the river, darkness was falling.
    Musk made his way through the ruinous door of a tall, round building, open within to the sky. Broken and burned wood, the remains of galleries, littered the floor, making his passage difficult. Finally, though, he stood upon the remnants of a stage.
    ‘My Lord?’ he enquired softly.
    At that, a cloaked man emerged from the remains of the rooms behind the stage. His face remained in darkness. In a deep and ambivalent voice he said, ‘Do you know me, Phineas Musk?’
    The steward of Ravensden House nodded warily; this was a game he had not played in many years. ‘Yes, My Lord, I know you now.’
    ‘By what name do you know me?’
    ‘You are Lord Percival.’
    ‘And what would I have you do?’
    ‘You would have me complete the quest, My Lord.’
    The man emerged at last from the shadows. ‘Well then, Phineas Musk,’ said that familiar yet almost forgotten voice, ‘we understand each other once more.’

 
     
     
    Come, come away to the temple, and pray, and sing with a pleasant strain,
The schismatick’s dead, the liturgy’s read, and the King enjoys his own again…
The citizens trade, the merchants do lade, and send their ships into Spain.
No pirates at sea to make them a prey, for the King enjoys thes word again…
Let faction and pride be ow laid aside, that truth and peace may reign,
Let every one mend, and there is an end, for the King enjoys hsi own again.
    ~ Anon., A Country Song Intituled The Restoration (1661) 
     
    A sudden rumble of thunder shook the windows of Sayes Court at Deptford.
    ‘Curious,’ said the house’s owner, the thin and aquiline John Evelyn, opening a window and looking up to a cloudless blue sky. ‘Most curious. Upon a day such as this, whither comes the thunder?’
    His friend Lord Brouncker looked up from the adjacent table and the plate of sturgeon upon it, already considerably diminished, before his dainty hand descended instead upon a large slice of venison pie. ‘It is a time of signs and wonders in the heavens,’ Brouncker said, ‘beginning with the comet, and as all know, however much we men of science analyse them and predict their paths, the truth remains that comets bring inexplicable events and disasters. Always have. So, coming as it does in the comet’s wake, thunder from nowhere is only to be expected, Mister Evelyn. Although no doubt Captain Quinton’s esteemed uncle would disagree, as he disagrees with so many other conclusions of our learned society. Is that not so, Captain?’
    I avoided Brouncker’s penetrating stare and looked out instead over Evelyn’s famous gardens, a veritable English Elysium. ‘My uncle has always ploughed his own furrow, My Lord,’ I said hesitantly, for defending the