Free The Licence of War by Claire Letemendia

Anthony Burton, James Pritchard, Christopher Harris, and Clement Veech.”
    “They ring no bells for me,” said Mistress Edwards.
    “Nor for me,” said Barlow.
    “I also have to get a message to a goldsmith, Thomas Violet, who has his shop in Cheapside,” Laurence said.
    “That’s easily done,” Barlow told him. “My nephew Jem could pop round and deliver it for you.”
    Mistress Edwards patted Laurence on the wrist. “You must not stir from my house until the hue and cry dies down. Barlow, could Price inquire about them names? He has a wide acquaintance.”
    “That he has, madam – wide as the day is long,” Barlow agreed, scratching his stubbly jaw.
    Laurence felt instantly uncomfortable. “Can I trust him?”
    “He won’t betray you, sir,” Mistress Edwards said. “In some matters, he can’t even trust hisself, but he wouldn’t betray any friend of mine. And my girls will want to help, too.”
VII .
    “If this horrible racket persists, you will be accused of conjuring demons in your rooms,” Clarke warned Seward, his fat jowls wobbling.
    Pusskins was crouched motionless at the door to Seward’s bedchamber, ears flattened, and coat and tail puffed up, emitting unearthly yowls. Shut inside was a stray cat that had followed Seward home when he had been picking mushrooms earlier in the College meadow. He had not had the heart to turn it away.
    “But, Clarke, if I open the door, there will be bloodshed! Might you take it to your house in Asthall?”
    Isaac Clarke dumped his enormous weight into a chair, and brushed some of Pusskins’ hairs fastidiously from the hem of his robe. “If I do, you will be unable to bring your demon when you come to stay with me there.”
    “In that case, I must put the poor thing out. Clarke, restrain Pusskins, whilst I secure the object of his wrath.”
    “And let him tear me to pieces!” said Clarke, not budging from the chair.
    “How could he, you great elephant? You are a thousand times his size. Grab him by the scruff of his neck.”
    No sooner had Clarke heaved himself up than there was a knock at Seward’s front door, and a low voice inquired, “Dr. Seward? Are you in?”
    The men regarded each other apprehensively. “Is it
that woman
?” Clarke mouthed. Seward nodded. “Whatever can she want?”
    “She has come to ask me about Beaumont,” Seward mouthed back. With extreme reluctance, he went to answer the door.
    “Oh,” said Mistress Savage, evidently disappointed to find Seward had company. “How are you, Dr. Clarke? Forgive me, Doctor – you are busy.”
    “Madam, I was about to leave – a good day to you,” Clarke said. “I shall see you in Hall, Seward.” He skipped nimbly past her and off towards his rooms, with a speed that belied his girth.
    “Enter, Mistress Savage,” said Seward, “but beware of my cat.”
    Pusskins ceased yowling and studied her with marked interest, then trotted over to her. She stooped to stroke the animal, a privilege that was Seward’s sole prerogative. “How may I assist you, madam?” he demanded.
    She let the cat alone and glared at Seward. “The day before yesterday, the day you called at my house, Beaumont returned from a meeting with Lord Digby and announced to me that he had to sup with the Queen. I therefore accepted an offer to sup with Digby, expecting Beaumont home later. But he didn’t come home and nor, as I learnt subsequently, did he attend Her Majesty at supper. The next day I went in some distress to his lordship, who told me Beaumont was supposed to leave for London on his business – but not until that morning, and with another agent, for greater safety. Lord Digby is as consternated as I am. I know Beaumont came to see you,” she carried on, now more pleading than angry. “Did he tell you what he was about to do?”
    “No,” said Seward, feeling a grudging empathy for her. “His disobedience is reprehensible,” he added, more honestly.
    “And dangerous! And has he so little concern