Free A Comfit Of Rogues by Gregory House Page B

face. “Now y’ miserable scurrying rat, y’ wouldn’t like ta end up at Wapping would yea?”

    Like every lad in the city Hugh had hobbled past the Tower and over St Katherine’s bridge to view the display of captured pirates who suffering punishment for their crimes were chained to stakes at Wapping shore below the high water mark. They were suffered to undergo two turnings of the tide. It’d been hours o’ fun watching the water creep up their chests, then necks, and hearing the pleas and curses of the condemned. The chilling look in Hawks’ eyes hinted at a far from comforting familiarity with this particular form of punishment.
     
    “N…N…No, no Master Hawks!” Hugh’s stammered reply must have had some effect because the evil promise of that smile receded and his assailant eased his tight grip then patted him on the head.

    “There a good little rat. Now where’s y’ headin’ in such a rush?”

    Hawks may have adopted a less menacing tone, but Hugh could sense that the former Liberties knifeman had his bloody beast only lightly tethered. So while considerations of loyalty to his master swayed one way, the demands of self–preservation pushed another. “I…I were going to Newgate.”

    Hugh might have felt a rush of shame for this easy confession and his cheeks might even have reddened. However the chill and fear kept him pale and compliant.

    “Really little rat? Now why would that be?”

    Though evasion and artifice was the beggar’s stock in trade Hugh readily cast them aside in favour of the truth. “I’m ta spy the way.”

    Hawks gave what Hugh hoped was a satisfied smile. “Is that so my scurrier? Who for?”

    And Hugh paused swallowing loudly. Whether it was fear induced or an unexpected rush of bravery he couldn’t have said but his jaw clenched shut locking away any more words.

    His captor though grinned with a knowing sneer and bent closer until he was almost eye to eye. “Ho, ho little rat, has the catkin got y’ tongue?”

    Hugh tried to shake his head but fright or boldness still had its grip tightly upon him and Hawks gave a slow nod. “Y’ were comin’ from the Liberties and I’s only knows two rogues who y’d be a messengering to for Old Bart.”

    Hugh swallowed his eyes wide in stunned surprise again.

    Hawks gave a single nod as if Hugh had answered and asked his next question. “And were it Earless Nick?”

    He couldn’t have told how his reaction gave the secret away but Hawks straightened up with a very satisfied glow in his eyes and dragged Hugh back into the street heading up the hill.

    “But…but I’ve told you everything I knows!” Hugh wailed as he struggled to be free of the firm grip on his shoulder.

    “Oh aye y’ ave little rat but now y’ goin’ ta help me with a little task. That’s nay asking ta much from y’ is it?”

    This wasn’t a question to be answered and still shivering in gut wrenching terror Hugh limped as fast as he could to keep up with the long strides of Hawks. And every halting step he prayed fervently for a chance to see the morrow. As for his former good fortune he’s trade it two times over to be elsewhere. The glowering snarl of Kut Karl and the sting of his metal tipped lash suddenly seemed almost friendly.

Chapter Nine. A Cuddling Comfit
    Jemmy sat on the bench by the blazing fire with a broad smile on his face and a brimming tankard in hand. To his eye life this Christmas season during the celebrations of the Lord of Misrule was packed full of amusement and entertainment. If pushed make judgement, it even beat the variety and opportunity of the St Bartholomew Great Fair and as Canting used to say that ‘were a very Cornucopia of Cosenage’ . What a Cornucopia was his lord hadn’t bothered to explain, just giving instead that enigmatic twitch of a smile.
     
    Full of curiosity afterwards he’d stood the Bedwell lad a jug of Rhenish wine to give forth upon the perplexing phrase. As far as he could make out