Part 37 (2/2)

”-but I do not trust myself on this animal.”

Shaftoe shook off a brief urge to smile. ”Not to your liking, is he?”

”Oh, as an a.r.s.e-warmer, he has done splendid service. But G.o.d help us all if I should essay to ride ride him.” him.”

”I s'pose it's you I have to thank for my liberty, then,” Shaftoe remarked.

”From the fact that you are here, and alive, I collect that all went off as planned?”

”En route from the dungeon dungeon to the to the cooperage cooperage were some misadventures. Without those, it would have been as routine as removal of horse-dung. The Regiment is under new, not very competent direction.” were some misadventures. Without those, it would have been as routine as removal of horse-dung. The Regiment is under new, not very competent direction.”

”What of the Queen's Messengers?”

”All they do is stand in a Mobb around the Pyx day and night.”

Comstock permitted himself a dry chuckle. ”You are a man of many words but few specifics. You'd do well in Parliament.”

Shaftoe shrugged. ”I'm old. Your hirelings, who broke me out of the Tower, they are young lads, and were moved greatly by each little happening. Ask them to relate the story to you, and you shall hear a yarn far longer and more diverting than any I would tell.”

”And less strictly true true, I suspect,” said Comstock.

”What's it to be now, guv'nor?” Shaftoe asked, and decided to try standing up. This he accomplished with a rolling tocsin of cracks and pops.

”Sergeant Shaftoe, 'twere absurd for me to go to the trouble of making you a free man, only to take away your liberty in the next instant by telling you what to do.”

”My mistake, guv'nor. I am accustomed by long habit to being in a chain of command.”

”Then, if it would be of any comfort to you, know that your longtime superior, Colonel Barnes, is now my guest. Oh, not here in London! He is at my seat, Ravenscar, on the North York Moors, above the sea.”

Shaftoe looked to the two dragoons who had pulled him out of the barrel. They confirmed it with nods.

”Am I to gather that Colonel Barnes is not alone there?” Shaftoe asked.

”I daresay the best part of your regiment is drinking up my wine-cellar.”

One of the dragoons could be heard supplementing Comstock's account, muttering about ”three companies.” Sergeant Shaftoe was not the sort who would admit to being startled or impressed by anything; anything; but at least he did not look bored or contemptuous-a signal achievement for Roger Comstock. but at least he did not look bored or contemptuous-a signal achievement for Roger Comstock.

”I know all about your Whig a.s.sociation,” Shaftoe said. He had advanced now to walking, and tottered a few steps in Comstock's direction. ”I have heard the rumors about all the money you have raised from the merchants of the City. And as to your efforts to recruit soldiers away from Her Majesty's regiments, and sign them up in your private army: I recruited them first first, and trained them, so do not think that a single one has escaped my attention.”

”I shouldn't dare to, Sergeant Shaftoe.”

”I am too young to've witnessed the Civil War with these eyes, but as a lad I heard tales of it from ones who managed to survive. And I have seen all of the improvements improvements that War made in Ireland and Belgium and other places. I could not be less inclined to take part in such an action on English soil.” that War made in Ireland and Belgium and other places. I could not be less inclined to take part in such an action on English soil.”

”Then don't.”

”Pardon?”

”Don't take part, Sergeant Shaftoe. Oh, by all means go to Ravenscar-” and here Comstock launched into the procedure of dismounting from his horse-so evidently fraught with perils for man and beast alike that the sergeant stepped forward to intervene. ”Take this steed-yes-there-oh, no! I beg your pardon-thank you-that was most painful-I am in your debt-may I please have my teeth back-there! Whew! I say, take this steed, Sergeant Shaftoe, which is as glad to be rid of rid of me, as me, as ridden by ridden by you-ha-these two fine dragoons who, as I believe, are known to you, shall accompany you all the way to Ravenscar. Go there, drink Colonel Barnes's health, recuperate, trout-fish, as you like. There is not going to be another Civil War, Sergeant Shaftoe, if I have aught to say about it-which, as it happens, I do.” you-ha-these two fine dragoons who, as I believe, are known to you, shall accompany you all the way to Ravenscar. Go there, drink Colonel Barnes's health, recuperate, trout-fish, as you like. There is not going to be another Civil War, Sergeant Shaftoe, if I have aught to say about it-which, as it happens, I do.”

”What if you are wrong?”

”Then you are welcome, nay, encouraged to retire from military service.”

”And in what way does this benefit you?”

”Always an important question to ask. I am presently engaged in a sort of duel with the Viscount Bolingbroke-the same chap you have to thank for your recent travails in Tower-dungeons. In a duel, it is customary for each partic.i.p.ant to have a second: a friend to stand behind him to back him up. The second rarely has to do do anything. You may think of the Whig a.s.sociation's battalions as anything. You may think of the Whig a.s.sociation's battalions as my my second. As for Bolingbroke, he has always had the Queen's Messengers, and now, too, he has much of your old Regiment in his pocket. Most of the other regiments are too cowed to stand against him. It is important that second. As for Bolingbroke, he has always had the Queen's Messengers, and now, too, he has much of your old Regiment in his pocket. Most of the other regiments are too cowed to stand against him. It is important that I I not be cowed, Sergeant Shaftoe. Having an army in Ravenscar gives me a warm feeling.” not be cowed, Sergeant Shaftoe. Having an army in Ravenscar gives me a warm feeling.”

”But what's the end of it? Mr. Charles White was asking of me a lot of odd questions concerning the Pyx, and the Mint, and my ex-brother. He is planning something-”

”Oh, he planned planned it ages ago. Presently he is it ages ago. Presently he is doing doing it. It is it. It is I I who am who am planning planning something.” something.”

”A war?”

”Much nastier: a Parliamentary inquiry. Today I have punched Bolingbroke in the nose by causing his favorite witness-you-to vanish from the Tower. Tomorrow at Westminster I shall hit him over the head with a sledgehammer. He'll be frightfully angry with me. I shall fear his anger the less if I know, and if he knows, that you and others like you are drilling on the North York Moors.” Ravenscar now forcibly put the horse's reins into Shaftoe's stiff and swollen hand.

”What in G.o.d's name are you going to do to him?” asked Shaftoe.

”Let us say I have told all of my friends to sell South Sea Company stock short.”

”What the h.e.l.l does that mean?”

”It means that grim days lie ahead for that Company. We shall be here all day if I try to explain all-go! Be off! The Hanging-March shall cover your movements, but only for so long! Mount up!”

Shaftoe did. Then he sat grimacing for a few moments as various parts of his body registered their protests. The two dragoons converged on either side of his horse and set to work lengthening the stirrups.

A dozen Barkers emerged from the fog, singing a hymn-bound for Tyburn to protest something. The two Mohawks rode out to herd them off in another direction. One of the Barkers was pus.h.i.+ng a wheelbarrow that, because it was heavy-laden with libels, kept getting stuck in the muck.

”I wish I could be there to see it-whatever you're doing to Bolingbroke, that is, guv'nor,” said Sergeant Shaftoe, sounding as close to wistful as a man of his character could.

”No,” Ravenscar a.s.sured him, ”no, you don't. Believe you me, the great happenings of Parliament are better to hear about than to suffer through. But make no mistake, it shall shall be a great event. After I have let the World know what be a great event. After I have let the World know what I I know concerning Bolingbroke, and what he has been doing with the Asiento money, we'll hear no more about a Trial of the Pyx, at least for a little while.” Roger took a step back and slapped the horse's croup. It began to trudge forward. The two dragoons, who had mounted up, fell in behind. Roger shouted after them: ”And I daresay I'll get my Longitude Act pa.s.sed as a soupcon!” know concerning Bolingbroke, and what he has been doing with the Asiento money, we'll hear no more about a Trial of the Pyx, at least for a little while.” Roger took a step back and slapped the horse's croup. It began to trudge forward. The two dragoons, who had mounted up, fell in behind. Roger shouted after them: ”And I daresay I'll get my Longitude Act pa.s.sed as a soupcon!”

Clerkenwell Court 19 JUNE 1714.

Ordered, That the Directors of the That the Directors of the South Sea South Sea Company do lay before this House an Account of all Proceedings in the said Company relating to the Company do lay before this House an Account of all Proceedings in the said Company relating to the a.s.siento a.s.siento trade; together with all Orders, Directions, Letters or Informations which the Directors, or any Committee of Directors, have received concerning the same. trade; together with all Orders, Directions, Letters or Informations which the Directors, or any Committee of Directors, have received concerning the same.-Journals of the House of Commons, VENERIS, 18 18 DIE JUNII DIE JUNII; ANNO 13 ANNAE REGINAE, 1714 A QUARTER OF A MILE QUARTER OF A MILE south of the dogleg in the road where Roger Comstock had met Bob Shaftoe, the frontier of London could be discerned by the Wise in the Ways of Real Estate. The most infallible sign of which was that, here, the track leading to Black Mary's Hole had been improved with a name, south of the dogleg in the road where Roger Comstock had met Bob Shaftoe, the frontier of London could be discerned by the Wise in the Ways of Real Estate. The most infallible sign of which was that, here, the track leading to Black Mary's Hole had been improved with a name, Coppice Row Coppice Row, devised to conjure forth, from the fevered brains of would-be buyers, phant'sies of a cozy and bucolic character, be they never so removed from Truth. Along Coppice Row, buildings were going up, or had gone up so recently that they were still redolent of the horse-hair mixed into their damp plaster. On the left side of the road, as one departed from London, the sprawl had been baffled for the time being by the stand of trees, and root-ball of ancient property-rights, surrounding Sir John Oldcastle's. On the right were a few indifferent buildings, all made of red brick still warm from the kilns. These had shop-arcades facing the street, and flats above. The largest of these buildings commanded a frontage of some hundred feet, sliced into a dozen shop-fronts of various widths. Most were quite narrow, and most still wanted tenants.

One of them had been rented by a clock-maker. Or so it might be guessed from the new-made sign that had been hung out over the street on a clever wrought-iron cantilever. This sign had been constructed around the carca.s.s of an ancient clock that looked to have been salvaged from a bell-tower in some Continental town-perhaps a Belgian hotel de ville hotel de ville laid low by a mortar-bomb during the late war. At any rate it had been very old even before whatever sequence of fiery disasters, salvagings, soakings in brine, and rough trans-s.h.i.+pments had brought it to Clerkenwell. With its bent, gap-toothed gears and its scabrous corrosions it served better as an Emblem, than as a Keeper, of Time. All by itself it might have served as a conversation-piece, like a Roman ruin. But to it had been added a muscular figure, put together of wood and plaster, and styled after a G.o.d, who was with one hand supporting the clock and with the other reaching up to adjust its hour-hand. All this to advertise a shop so small that its proprietor could stand in the middle of it and touch both side-walls with his fingertips. laid low by a mortar-bomb during the late war. At any rate it had been very old even before whatever sequence of fiery disasters, salvagings, soakings in brine, and rough trans-s.h.i.+pments had brought it to Clerkenwell. With its bent, gap-toothed gears and its scabrous corrosions it served better as an Emblem, than as a Keeper, of Time. All by itself it might have served as a conversation-piece, like a Roman ruin. But to it had been added a muscular figure, put together of wood and plaster, and styled after a G.o.d, who was with one hand supporting the clock and with the other reaching up to adjust its hour-hand. All this to advertise a shop so small that its proprietor could stand in the middle of it and touch both side-walls with his fingertips.

Clerkenwell Court-as this edifice was styled-was not badly badly situated, for it was along a way that holiday-makers might traverse en route to the tea-gardens and Spaws of Lambs Conduit Fields. And it was not too distant from Gray's Inn and diverse Squares round which wealthy persons had built their town-houses. But it was not especially situated, for it was along a way that holiday-makers might traverse en route to the tea-gardens and Spaws of Lambs Conduit Fields. And it was not too distant from Gray's Inn and diverse Squares round which wealthy persons had built their town-houses. But it was not especially well well situated, either, for the place was difficult to reach without pa.s.sing through one or more infamous Dens of Iniquity, Nests of Vipers, Pits of Degradation, &c., viz. Hockley-in-the-Hole and Smithfield. situated, either, for the place was difficult to reach without pa.s.sing through one or more infamous Dens of Iniquity, Nests of Vipers, Pits of Degradation, &c., viz. Hockley-in-the-Hole and Smithfield.

None of which had prevented one n.o.ble Lady from making the trip out in her carriage early of a Sat.u.r.day morn. She was well escorted, with a driver, two footmen, and a dog on the outside of the coach, and, on the inside, a young armigerous gentleman and a female attendant. Accompanied by the latter two, she pa.s.sed through the door below the outlandish clock-sign and pulled on a bell-rope. A distant jingling was audible off beyond the back wall of the shop. She pulled again, and again. Presently a door in the back was opened. Through it the visitors glimpsed, not the expected store-room, but an expansive, crowded, noisy, complicated Yard. Then the whole aperture of the doorway was blocked by the form of a great hulking dark bloke, coming towards them. He entered the shop, stopped, and looked straight over their heads and out the shop's front window to the carriage waiting there along Coppice Row. A moment sufficed to read the coat of arms on the door. Then he pivoted out of the way and extended an arm toward the back door. ”Enter,” he rumbled. Then, in case this had not been a sufficiently florid, courtly greeting, he added, ”Welcome.”

Johann von Hacklheber-that being the sole visitor who was male and visibly armed-had stepped in front of the two women when the big dark man had appeared. His left or dagger hand was looking a bit twitchy. This detail did not escape the perception of their host, who flung his great hands up in the air as proof that he was not armed, or as a gesture of exasperation, or both. Then he turned his back on them and vanished the way he had come.

A minute later, his place was taken by Daniel Waterhouse.

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