The Liberties of London Read Online Free Page A

catched.

    “So yea haven’t started with the bevy o’ punks y’ got up there? Just as well Mistress Margaret told me to fetch y’. Whether you got your hose on or around your ankles makes no difference ta me.”

    Ned’s temper, never on much of a tight rein, spurred him to lash out with his own retort. “You loathsome lewdster, Hawkins. That’s a gathering of gentlemen up there, not some tumbledown ale house, like you inhabit where they hump poxed punks against the wall ‘cause they can’t find any sheep that’ll have them!”

    Gruesome Roger was still for a moment, then his sneering grin returned. “Oh Bedwell, by God’s Blood, afore the weeks out, y’ goin’ to rue those words. Y’ll be wading through a river o’shit to beg my forgiveness.”

    “If wishes were fishes, Hawkins, your net’d still be empty.” Ned turned his back on the unwanted messenger and began to head back up the stairs. A hand grabbed his sleeve pulling him backwards.

    Ned spun around put a hand on his dagger and snarled. “Unhand me Hawkins. The Blacks may treat you as family, but damned if I don’t know you for a common foister!”

    “Y’know Bedwell, any time you want, it take only a moment to tumble y’ in a ditch. Anyway enough cosseting, are y’ coming or do I tell Cromwell you refused his summons?”

    Ned froze. Cromwell was involved? Silently he cursed Gruesome Roger. The cozener had played him and he’d fallen for it. Ned ground his teeth in suppressed anger. By all the damned saints and cursed devils! Gruesome Roger gave him one of his gloating grins and nodded at the unasked questioned. Damn, damn, damn! That cunning trickster had trapped him. Ned knew he had no choice. Uncle Richard may have been his master, but Thomas Cromwell, newest member of King Henry VIII’s Privy Council, was his patron and good lord. From what Ned had learnt of his new lord’s habits, Councillor Cromwell didn’t like tardy servants.
    ***
    Chapter Two: An Unwanted Task
    The snow had looked so pleasant from inside the tavern. Trudging through it though reduced Ned to a string of damply chilled bitter complaints about his lords and masters. And that gloating bastard Gruesome Roger! What was so damned urgent that that foolish herb dabbler sent her looming minion out to menace and threaten his attendance? It was warm and comfortable back at the Spread Eagle Tavern. Good company, plenty of sweet sack and they’d just begun to serve the first feast! He’d barely even started that venison pie and it had smelt so delightful. Just to rub salt in the wound, his daemon incautiously reminded him of the lost opportunity of cards and dice. Damn that summons! He’d planned to reap a dozen angels or more from the Christmas games of chance. Worst of all, he’d been forced to leave Rob Black in charge. Now the feasting would be fine, but the lad had too open and honest a face to deal with the practiced deceivers of the law courts in a round of Ruff and Honour. Despite that mounting frustration, Ned steeled himself and strode grimly on in the wake of the long legged Roger.
As the world currently stood, it behoved Ned not to upset Cromwell. The former secretary to Cardinal Wolsey was now a rising star of the Royal Court. He’d even spoken in defence of his cast aside lord and master in the recent Parliament. Now considering that to the Commons, Wolsey was as popular as a visitation of the ‘sweats’, that was either extremely brave or the height of folly. Only a man certain of Royal favour dared take the chance. Ned, it seemed, wasn’t the only one to profit from the Cardinal’s Angels . Cromwell, for his minuscule efforts, had reaped the richer rewards of Royal patronage, while he aided by Rob Black, his troublesome sister Meg and of course Gruesome Roger, took all the risks of solving the combination of treason and murder.

    It wasn’t fair, but then it was a corrupt and decayed world where priests waxed fat on selling indulgences for sin,