Free The Liberties of London by Gregory House Page A

you measly lewdster! Is this the Christian care that you promised Lady Dellingham and Cromwell?”

    Now that was a very difficult accusation to answer, especially considering his plans, so instead he tried deflection. “May I remind you, Mistress Black, that twice I was called away, each time on urgent ‘business’ so it was nigh impossible to cater to those ‘demands’ and watch over Walter, unless I were suddenly to miraculously become TWINS!” The last part was in a deliberately louder volume since, by all the saints, he too could shout.

    Meg Black seemed on the verge of replying, probably in kind, until another quiet whisper from Gruesome Roger stalled her. And if looks could impart the fires of the netherworld, then Ned was sure he’d now be a well and truly scorched twig smoking pathetically on the ground. However drawing upon some hidden reserve, Meg visibly forced herself to calm and in an almost normal voice, asked “So if poor Walter hasn’t fallen into the ‘house of easement’, where is he?”

    Ned’s daemon waspishly remarked that some ten minutes ago he was at the same stage and if uninterrupted they’d be further ahead. As usual Ned ignored that remark. He’d found in past dealings with Meg Black the first ‘natural’ response only led to bitter dispute. Instead one had to sensitively walk around the problem and allow her to think she had equal input. “I don’t know Meg. I’ve only spent a few hours in his company.”

    That barbed reminder gained him a frown but that was all. His daemon hinted that Meg Black obliviously was saving her temper for a more impressive occasion; a hypothesis strongly disagreed with by his better angel, who spoke of Christian forbearance. Ned thought both were off target, but kept back his reasoning.

    After a minute of finger tapping silence, Meg Black finally came out with ‘her’ suggestion. “Do you think Walter was seized by More’s men?”

    He blinked in surprise. Ned hadn’t considered this unpleasant possibility. “I shouldn’t think so. This tavern hasn’t any reputation for ‘night schooling’ or else they’d have searched upstairs.”

    Where More’s pursuivants would have found the opposite of evangelical studies, his daemon reminded Ned, but this prompted further speculation. His mind slowly worked over the problem. He’d finally had some food so the ache in his gut was abated though the weariness from the night’s work still lingered. So it probably wasn’t Sir Thomas More. His secret pursuivants prowled all over London, but somehow it didn’t seem like the Lord Chancellor’s style to grab only one. They tended to like their victims in batches. It always looked more impressive as they were marched through the London streets. “Tell me Meg, does his family have any disputes lodged at the courts?”

    Now it was her turn to be surprised. “Why no, I don’t think so. The family isn’t staying until the law term. Remember Walter and his mother are leaving for Geneva after Twelfth Night.”

    To Ned that only meant they had no writs or actions pending. Still the concerns of last night worked upon his imagination. He hadn’t been followed, had he? Warily Ned inspected the fellow inhabitants of the tavern common room –some dozen Christmas company revelers, a few locals he’d seen before and them. None appeared to have the devious demeanor of pursuivants, but his daemon whispered that, with a really practiced pursuivant, how would you know?

    Lurkers in the shadows? No, he firmly thought to himself, he had enough problems to worry about without his imagination supplying more. The question of Walter’s disappearance had to have a simple answer. “What do you know of Cromwell’s interest in the Dellinghams?”

    This elicited an interesting reaction. Ned could have sworn that, for one moment, Meg Black had blanched, and he thought he detected a hint of either anger or maybe fear. “I know no more then you Ned. I received the