Day of Deliverance by Johnny O'Brien

friends.”
    Trinculo immediately performed another jig – just as embarrassing as the first.
    Jack and Angus approached the three bandits who groaned in the mud.
    “Will they be okay?” Jack asked.
    “Unfortunately, yes, they’ll be limping around for a day or two… and what’s-his-face will have a nasty burn on that hand… but they’ll be fine.”
    Jack looked down at the three men. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, but tried his best tough-man voice. “Right you lot. Come near us again… and well… we’ve got a load more tricks up our sleeves… and you’ll regret it – we’ll, er, be calling 999.”
    Angus tried not to smile. The bandits looked up at them with a mixture of confusion and fear. They seemed to have got the message.
    *
    They made the long approach to Cambridge from the north-west in the afternoon of the following day. Despite being trouble free, the journey had been tough and progress painfully slow along the pitted roads. They had taken it in turns to ride up on the cart… but most of the time they had walked. Since their impromptulunch they had eaten very little, although Jack and Angus had, on occasion, dipped surreptitiously into their emergency rations. It was only because of this that they had managed to keep going and Jack had no idea how the others had survived the journey.
    Despite little food, Fanshawe had babbled incessantly. Subjects included their miraculous escape from the bandits, the details of which Fanshawe and Trinculo repeated again and again, their exploits becoming braver and more exaggerated each time. Angus, in particular, was being likened to a demigod for his role in beating off the attackers. Even Monk added grudging words of thanks. Then Fanshawe turned to his great plans for the future of the Fanshawe Players and how, working with the young genius whom he had ‘discovered’ – one Jack Christie – they would all become famous and make their fortunes. Finally, he talked enthusiastically about their forthcoming meeting with Christopher Marlowe and their final destination, the town of Cambridge. As he called it, “The most exquisite in all of Christendom.”
    *
    As they finally crossed Magdalene Bridge into Cambridge, Jack got a sense of why Fanshawe had been so animated at the prospect of visiting the town. To his left, the red brick buildings of Magdalene College stretched gracefully out along the River Cam. To his right, he set eyes upon a number of beautiful stone buildings and the spires of churches, which rose gracefully above the rooftops. The town was a stark contrast to the dirty hovels and huts that they had passed on their journey from Fotheringhay. They pressed on into the centre and the crowds became thicker. The streets were busy and they frequently had to navigate their way past oncoming carts or gaggles of students, hawkers or even monks. They turned right and passed St John’s College and then Trinity College with its Great Court. As they progressed it was as if each building became bigger and grander. Finally, they reached King’s College Chapel, a magnificent stone building, which towered fifty metres into a greysky, eclipsing everything else around it. At each corner stood a high tower and there was a glorious stained-glass window built into the front elevation – itself nearly twenty metres high. Soon they were all gazing up in wonder at the great building, even the irascible Monk.
    After a little while, they walked on, past the entrance to King’s College until, finally, Fanshawe announced, “We’re here.”
    To his left Jack peered through an archway into the courtyard of yet another college. It was certainly not as large or as grand as the great colleges they had passed already, but it was still very beautiful. Opposite the arched gateway, Jack could see an elegant chapel set into the college buildings.
    “Is this Corpus Christi College?”
    “Yes – this is where we will meet my friends and I have made arrangements for us to