The Fetter Lane Fleece Read Online Free Page B

that part over. Three pounds was a hefty amount of gilt. A family could live well for months on such a sum. Ned didn’t have much idea regarding the wealth of Reedman or his brother’s prospective bride, but if these rogues thought they could lever more coin, not much could be done. Any decent citizen of standing would instantly cry loudly and summon the Liberties Watch. Oh by the saints, wouldn’t that solve all the problems! Ned knew the Liberties Common Watch, almost as well as their cousins in villainy, the Southwark Watch. As any sensible citizen should expect, they were a similar set of scoundrels and sheep fondlers, excelling at the skill of not arriving at an affray until too late or the rogues were long gone. So that only left petitioning some Royal official or lord for assistance, it’d be cheaper and faster to pay the ransom.
    Having quelled that minor rebellion Ned tugged his doublet and cloak into a clumsy attempt at rakish style and strode towards the tavern. Rob, playing his servant, doused the link light at the tavern entrance and pushed open the door.
Chapter Five . Flaunty Phil’s Friendship
    Ned strode in with a jaunty step and stopped hand on hips, legs spread wide in a poorly executed attempt to copy a lord’s manner. As expected the company of the common room gave him a thorough review from head to toe. This was fine since in between knocking the snow off his borrowed cloak and vainly trying to reset the splay of crow feathers in his cap, he was doing the same. Having given the audience a chance to weigh up their visitor Ned strode over to the taverner’s bench and thumped a groat on the scarred timber. “A flagon o’ yer best wine.”
    The taverner, a small wizened man overwhelmed by a black beard reaching down to his waist, picked up the coin and scowled at it before turning away without a reply.
    Appearing nonplussed Ned looked bemusedly around the common room searching for a clear table. One tallish fellow, possessed of a short trimmed beard and a fine long nose, got up from the table and sauntered over. In the fashionable London how one dressed proclaimed the status and position of the wearer. It was a fact of life which is why Ned had chosen the selection of homespun and older fashioned apparel befitting a country yeoman.
    He'd heard one poetic comparison —like the vivid hues of a spring flower drew a bee to taste its nectar —as if. Ned thought this an insipid simile and not at all fitting the present moment, far more like a wasp on its way to pillage the beeskep. A fitting label since this ‘Fleecer’ was dressed in the puffed and slashed gaudy colours favoured by German soldiers serving Emperor Charles. They were called Landsknechts, and held the reputation as being ready for a fight or wanton pillage, whichever came first. Their fame had peaked with the capture of the King of France at Pavia back in ‘twenty five’ but a brace of years ago. It had plummeted again when the Imperial army sacked Rome and held the Pope captive. Ned had seen this fashion displayed at Court by the younger outré members of the court. It was frowned upon by the Master of Apprentices at the Inns as too prideful, lacking the gravitas and dignity of black. Where he could Ned skirted the statues like many of his other apprentice lawyers.
    This fellow though was as colourful as any peacock and twice as bold as he walked over and leant beside the bench giving a friendly, welcoming smile and slapping down his own coin. “Dickon, yea lazy measle! A jug of brandy wine for our newcomers on this frosty night.”
    Ned returned the smile and gave a jerky nod in the direction of his newly acquired companion. “Why thank ye master, that’s indeed generous for mere strangers.”
    Their colourful host waved the thanks away with an open handed gesture and his puffed and slashed sleeve rippled black and vivid yellow. “Think naught of it friend. Tis the time of our saviour’s birth when all good Christians should