Free Snare of Serpents by Victoria Holt Page B

made our warm houses the more luxurious.
    The coming of spring was particularly welcome and it was during that delightful season when I was able to indulge in my explorations. How beautiful it was then, with the sun shining on the tall grey buildings lighting them to silver. Sometimes I would sit in the gardens looking up to the castle or along Princes Street; and at others I would wander into the old town and listen for the bell of the university which rang out every hour.
    It was a revelation to discover what a great divide there was in our city between the comfortably situated and the wretchedly poor. I suppose it is so in all big cities, but in ours it seemed more marked, I think, because the two were so close together. A few minutes’ walk could take one from the affluent to the needy. One could be in Princes Street where the carriages rolled by carrying the well-dressed and well-fed, and very soon be in the wynds, where dwellings huddled together, where many lived in one small room, where the lines of pitiful garments hung out to dry and bare-footed, ragged children played in the gutters.
    It was called the old town; and that was where I met Jamie.
    Of course, if I had been wise I should not have been there. A well-dressed young woman could only be visiting such a neighbourhood out of curiosity. But I had become fascinated by my discoveries, and, contemplating on what I saw, I forgot my own dilemma, for my discoveries broke into my brooding on what the future might bring.
    When I went out on my walks I carried a small purse with a chain handle which hung on my arm. In it I carried a little money. Since I had visited the poorer parts of the city I liked to have something with me to give to people. There were quite a number of beggars to be encountered and I was very moved to see children in such circumstances.
    I knew that I should not venture deep into these streets. For one thing, there was such a maze of them that it was easy to lose one’s way.
    I had come to a street which was full of people. There was a man with a barrow selling old clothes, children squatting on the pavement and several people standing at their doors gossiping.
    I turned away and started to go back as I thought the way I had come, but I soon realised how unwise I had been to enter these streets. I came to a small alley. At the end of it was a young man; he was just about to turn the corner. He looked respectable, out of place in these streets and I thought I might ask him the way back to Princes Street.
    I started after him and just at that moment two young boys darted out of a side alley and approached me. They barred my way. They were poorly clad and obviously undernourished and they said something in an accent so broad that I could not understand them, but I knew they were asking me for money. I took the purse from my arm and opened it. One of them immediately snatched it and ran towards the young man who was about to turn the corner.
    “Come back,” I called. The young man turned. He must have guessed what had happened. No doubt it was a common occurrence. He caught the boy with the purse. His companion darted away and disappeared.
    The young man came towards me, dragging the boy with him.
    He smiled at me. He was young … not much older than I, I guessed. He had light blue eyes and fair hair with a reddish tint; he looked clean and healthy, which struck me as it was such a contrast to the boy he was dragging with him. He smiled; he had very white teeth.
    “He has taken your purse, I believe,” he said.
    “Yes. I was going to give him some money.”
    The boy let out a stream of words, some of which I understood. He was terrified.
    “Give the lady her purse,” commanded the young man.
    Meekly the boy did so.
    “Why did you do it?” I said. “I would have given you something.”
    He did not answer.
    “Poor little devil,” said the young man.
    “Yes,” I said. And to the boy: “You shouldn’t steal, you know. You’ll get into