Free Serpents in the Garden by Anna Belfrage

that his shin was one black bruise from where he had fallen the other night. Very rarely did he think about home, and when he did it was mainly Mama he thought about, effectively blocking out Da. Occasionally, he woke to a hard cock, and he would rub himself to release, his eyes closed as he visualised Betty. His wife, he reminded himself with a small grin, and then the smile was wiped away as he wondered if she was alright.
    “You think he’ll let her wait for you?” Johnny stared at him and burst out laughing.
    “But we’ve bedded and married by consent.”
    Johnny just shook his head. “If she ends up with child, mayhap. But, if not…” Johnny spat over the side. “No, lad, you must forget her. As you tell it, her father’s a fine man. He won’t wish to wed his lass to a sailor, will he?” His words dropped like stones through Jacob.
    “I don’t aim to be a sailor forever. Once I’ve seen a wee bit of the world, I’ll return to her.”
    “And how will you earn your living? Will your father give you land to farm?”
    Jacob admitted that no, that was probably not the case. “I can scribe. I can draw up documents and deeds.”
    “Hmph,” Johnny snorted.
    “Or I could become a healer – mayhap even a physician.” Jacob sighed. How was he to do that? He frowned down at the black waters below them. “Betty will wait. She knows I’ll come back for her.”
    Johnny shrugged and changed the subject by pointing towards the faraway shore.
    *
    Jacob could not turn his head fast enough. So many people! And what a city! He beamed at his surroundings, hurrying after Captain Miles who was making his way with dogged determination through the crowds. Jacob’s eyes widened at the sight of the wenches: pretty lasses that hung out of windows or loitered in doorways, their bodies exposed far beyond the limits of modesty.
    “Whores,” Captain Miles told him, “and you’ll stay well away from them.”
    Jacob nodded, but his hand closed around his little pouch. He had been very surprised when Captain Miles had given him three half-crowns, four shillings and three groats, gruffly telling him he had earned it. Never had he had this much money before, and he had an urgent need to spend it all – at once – and a visit to one of the taverns down by the docks did not seem a bad idea, not at all. And then he was going to buy something for Betty, he decided; perhaps a ring.
    The city was a warren of ongoing construction. Jacob had to weave in and out of scaffolding, step over piles of timber, and generally avoid being run over by the builders who were a ubiquitous presence all over the place. New multi-storeyed brick buildings tottered to impressive heights above him, storeys were added to already existing houses, and the narrow streets bristled with energy when the citizens of London went about their daily business in their half rebuilt city. Yet again, he marvelled at all the women; now substantially more sedate and prim than the ones down in the port area, but loud and commanding, their garments in vibrant colours, and their necks and wrists adorned by gold and jewels. He shook himself and caught up with Captain Miles who had stopped at the corner to wait for him, an irritated crease between his brows.
    “Have you been here often?” Jacob asked.
    Captain Miles grunted and nodded. “The port, aye. The city, no, not for many years. I don’t hold with the English or that sad excuse of a Scotsman who sits the throne.” He spat into the gutter and wrinkled his nose. “Filthy place, full of all sorts… You must go canny here lad, you hear?” He leaned towards Jacob and, after a furtive look at the people passing them, muttered that, as he heard it, times were hard on the papists – very hard. “It’s yon Titus Oates, him and that popish plot of his. Pah!”
    “Popish plot?” Jacob scanned their surroundings, hoping that out of nowhere would appear a band of papists, swords aloft.
    “According to Oates, they aimed