“Good night, Miss Gans,” he said, as he got in bed on his side of the blasted blanket. He was achingly hard and knew there would be no relief that night. But soon. If he was any judge of women – and he most certainly had enough experience – he knew it would be soon.
CHAPTER SIX
Norwich Castle was on a hill surrounded by the remains of a moat, which, judging from the smells one encountered within several hundred yards of the castle, also served as a sewage repository. Unfortunately, the smell was not made better by the existence of a large cattle market in the fields surrounding the castle. When the wind shifted toward them, Arthur had everything he could do to keep from losing the breakfast he and Vanessa had just eaten. It would be particularly embarrassing to be sick in front of her, but as he glanced at her, he realized she looked as green as he felt.
He handed her a handkerchief as he put another to his nose. “Breathe through your mouth, love.” She took the handkerchief gratefully, as they hurried toward the castle entrance.
Built by William the Conqueror in the late 11th Century, the castle was constructed of white stone. But several centuries of grime now clung to the building, giving it an ashy grey exterior. As Arthur reached the gates and looked up at the boxy, three-story building, he realized the look of it was nearly as depressing as the smell.
They were met at the door by armed guards who were suspicious of why anyone would willingly enter the premises, especially when Arthur and Vanessa said they weren’t there to see a prisoner. That seemed to disappoint one of the guards in particular, who no doubt was calculating how big of a bribe he could extract from the well-dressed gentleman. Finally, after Vanessa used the professor’s name and, more importantly, Arthur mentioned Lynwood, they were shown into the great hall to wait while one of the guards went to fetch the warder.
The hall was two stories tall, with a wooden ceiling. At one point long ago, a mural may have been painted on it. Now it was simply a series of beams made of rotting wood which contributed to the pervasive stench of decay. The stone walls were covered with even more grime than the ones outside, due to centuries’ worth of soot from the fireplaces. If the building had ever been cleaned, it had been in a previous era.
The floor was hard packed dirt with some straw strewn about, although there was likely a foundation of smooth stone if one dug deep enough. Arthur wondered whether he’d be forced to throw away the Hoby boots he was wearing. At the very least, he’d be spending a fortune in vales to the servant who would clean his and Vanessa’s boots that night.
The haunting sounds of the prison floated up to them from the floors below. The prisoners – men, women and children – were kept in crowded cells with little light and virtually no sanitation. The mortality rate at most prisons was alarmingly high. A simple outbreak of influenza could wipe out half the population, with the women and children dying first. Only those who could pay for a surgeon had a chance of surviving. Sometimes entire families were held in the same gaol, and it was quite difficult to get out alive, especially if there was no advocate for them on the outside. Even when the sentence had been served in full, it was common practice to have to pay the gaolers to let them go.
Vanessa shivered at the very thought of what was going on in the bowels of the castle. Immediately, Arthur’s arm reached around her shoulders.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head, unable to explain why the place was having such an effect on her. “I just want to have our business concluded as quickly as possible.”
“As do I,” he agreed. “I have no wish to linger here.”
Just then, the guard returned with a rather short, thin man with a waxed mustache.
“You said you wanted to see the warder?” the genial man asked Arthur. “I be he. Sergeant Phineas Flagstone, at your service, sir.” He bowed to them both.
“Is there somewhere we might speak? Perhaps a place to sit down?” asked Arthur, who was worried about Vanessa’s pallor.
“Of course!” said the sergeant. “Follow me, if you please.”
They followed Sergeant Flagstone up a flight of stairs, past storerooms and offices filled with guards and the occasional civilian. There were boxes and trunks piled in a haphazard manner throughout the building. Few signs indicated their direction and by the time they reached the sergeant’s office, Arthur had lost track of their route. After moving a box of files from two rather wobbly chairs, Sergeant Flagstone asked them to have a seat and took his own behind a desk.
“May I order some tea for you ma’am?” he asked.
Vanessa shook her head. Some of the color had come back to her face during their expedition through the building. “That is very kind of you, but I don’t believe….”
“Watkins!” called Sergeant Flagstone to his adjutant. “Bring some tea for our guests.” He looked back at them apologetically for the interruption. “I don’t get many visitors. So, what can I do for you?”
“Well, sergeant,” began Vanessa. “We’re on a mission for the Crown.”
Sergeant Flagstone blinked. “I don’t follow.”
Vanessa began again. “I am an agent with the Home Office….”
The sergeant began to laugh. “That’s a rich one, it is! A female being an agent for the Home Office.” He turned to Arthur. “Are you two part of some theater troupe come to ask to put on a show? I’ve always been a fan of the theater, I have. Although usually the opera dancers are dressed a bit more….” Here, he looked Vanessa up and down, taking in the drab brown gown she was wearing. “….fancifully.”
“See here, sergeant,” said Vanessa, bristling. “We are not part of a theater troupe and I am certainly not an opera dancer. I truly am an agent with the Home Office.”
The sergeant laughed again. “You sure are a persistent one, I’ll give you that. And a right looker, if we was to fix you up a bit. Maybe one of them dresses that shows the ankles, trimmed with some feathers. I do like a good feather gown.”
“Sergeant Flagstone, if I may,” said Arthur in an attempt to keep as much of the sergeant’s foot out of his mouth as possible, even if it did seem already fully swallowed. “I assure you that Miss Gans is telling you the truth. She is an agent with the Crown.”
Sergeant Flagstone was no longer laughing, but was now extremely suspicious.
“I’ve never heard of no female agent.”
“Neither had I until just recently,” said Arthur. “But I assure you she’s one of the best agents the Home Office has.”
Sergeant Flagstone thought about that for a moment. “How many other agents have you met?”
“Enough to know,” said Arthur, hoping the man wouldn’t ask for names. He’d met very few agents in his life, but had no doubt that Vanessa was one of the best, if for no other reason than she bested him at every opportunity.
“And who are you?” asked Flagstone.
“I am Lord Arthur Kellington, brother to the Duke of Lynwood.”
Sergeant Flagstone now looked thoroughly confused. “She didn’t arrest you, did she?”
“Certainly not,” said Vanessa. “Lord Arthur has been helping me on a mission. We are here to…”
She broke off as the adjutant brought the tea. Arthur glanced at his dirty cup, then immediately looked for a place to dispose of its contents.
Vanessa began again. “We believe two villains may be trying to steal the Larsen broadsword. We are here to take possession of it until the threat has passed. It will, of course, be returned to you afterward.”
Sergeant Flagstone opened and shut his mouth several times in rapid succession. “Someone wants to steal the Larsen? I can’t imagine anyone trying to take the broadsword, what with all the guards we have. Quite frankly, Miss Gans, that’s the craziest thing I have heard since….well, since I heard the Home Office has lady agents. No offense, miss.”
“Of course, sergeant,” said Vanessa as she almost took a sip of her tea to be polite, then decided it would be better to be rude than to be sickened
by whatever was in her cup.
“Have you seen the Larsen broadsword recently?” asked Arthur. “While I’m sure only the most foolhardy villains would try to steal it, I can assure you that we’re dealing with two ruthless individuals. I wouldn’t put it past them to at least try.”
Sergeant Flagstone considered the possibility. “They must be two bully boys and daft ones at that, if they expect to get through here.”
Vanessa smiled at the man. “Actually, one of the two is a woman.”
That news, unsurprisingly, astounded Sergeant Flagstone. “A woman! What is the world coming to if a woman tries to steal the Larsen? If you ask me, it’s all because of that nonsense in Lunnon. The sister of some dook says females should get involved in politics, if you can believe that. Did you hear about it?”
“I believe I heard something to that effect,” said Arthur.
“Can we count on your assistance?” asked Vanessa.
“I see no reason to refuse your request, seeing as it’s the Crown. I will, however, have to inform the prison guv’nor. He’ll have to give his permission. I’ll go explain the situation to him while my adjutant fetches the Larsen. You should be underway in no time at all.”
As Sergeant Flagstone left the office, shaking his head and muttering about females, Arthur opened the window and emptied the contents of his and Vanessa’s cups. “I actually believe the tea will sully the disgusting moat. Once we have the Larsen broadsword – if it is still here – what would you like to do? It may be days yet before Dumbarton deciphers the next code.”
Vanessa considered his request. “I think you should take the sword to London while I await word from Dumbarton.”
“And I think that’s a terrible idea. We’re in this together, love, and I won’t leave you alone.”
“Why is it so important that you accompany me? Are you bored with your life and wish for some excitement? I might be more amenable to your accompanying me if I better understood your reasons.”
Arthur was saved from replying by the adjutant entering the room. He was dragging a four-foot long, moldering leather case. With a great deal of effort, he placed it on Flagstone’s desk, then pulled out an old key and unlocked the case. Whatever Arthur was expecting, it wasn’t what they looked upon inside.
The sword, like everything else in the castle, was in a state of decay. The blade was corroded and dull. By some miracle, the hilt still retained its jewels, perhaps because they currently looked like nothing more than dirty rocks. But after a few moments of rubbing with Arthur’s handkerchief, they could begin to see the glitter of gold.
“I’m surprised any jewels remain on it,” said Vanessa. “Especially in a place like this.”
“If you’ll excuse me ma’am, it’s because it’s in a place like this that the jewels are still there,” said the adjutant. “While everyone knows about the sword, not many know where we keep it. And even if they was to find it, them jewels is attached good and strong. Those dirty Vikings knew how to make a sword. And it’s not like you could take something like this out of here with no one the wiser.”
“Liam would love this,” said Arthur. “He is a great student of Viking era history. Sometimes I think he was born in the wrong era. I can very well see him defending English shores from the Norsemen.”
Vanessa ran her fingers over the sword’s jewels. “I was just thinking you are the Kellington who would be most interested in this. After all, your namesake had Excalibur.”
Arthur could barely breathe at the sight of Vanessa’s hand on the hilt. “Yes, well, the Arthur we know was naught but a legend. The real one was just a man.”
Sergeant Flagstone chose that time to return to his office, with the prison governor in tow. Sir John Morgan carried himself with arrogance and as he slowly looked Vanessa over from head to toe, Arthur longed to cosh the man with the Larsen.
Sir John turned his attention to Arthur. “Flagstone here says you’re on a mission from the Crown. I haven’t heard a thing about it.”
“It came up rather suddenly,” said Vanessa. “Then Lord Arthur and I came here as a result.”
Sir John pointedly ignored Vanessa. “Flagstone says you’re Lynwood’s brother. Please give my regards to his grace.”
“I wasn’t aware you were acquainted,” said Arthur coolly.
“We haven’t met yet,” blustered Sir John. “But now that I’m newly invested with my knighthood, I expect it’s only a matter of time until we bump into each other the next time I’m in London.”
Arthur rather doubted they would, but he used the man’s ambitions to pursue their case. “I was hoping we could take the broadsword today. Time is of the essence.”
“I’m afraid that simply won’t be possible,” said Sir John. “There’s something about this that seems a bit havey-cavey, what with ‘females working for the Crown.’ I can’t simply take your word for it. I’d need to have authorization from the Home Office. Or, at the very least, a note from his grace.”
“That will take time we don’t have,” said Vanessa. “Getting a message to and from London will take days.”
“Yes, it will at that,” agreed Sir John, who appeared to consider the situation. “Or we could expedite the process.”
“Splendid,” said Arthur.
Vanessa eyed Sir Morgan with suspicion. “Would there be a fee involved?”
“Well, we would need a bit of money to cover all the extra costs we’d incur.”
“How much?” asked Arthur.
“I don’t know,” replied Sir John. “Perhaps fifty guineas?”
Ignoring Vanessa’s gasp of outrage, Arthur continued. “I’m afraid that is quite out of the question.”
“I should say so,” said Vanessa. “Expecting us to pay for doing our duty….”
“How about five guineas?” countered Arthur. “Miss Gans is right in that we are only doing our duty, but I understand there are matters which must be taken care of, forms to fill out, et cetera.”
“Ten guineas,” said Sir John.
“I think not,” said Arthur. “Five is my final offer.”
Sir John considered it. “Ten guineas would allow me to send my swiftest rider to London to get orders from the Home Office.”
“And what would be the price of a slower rider?” asked Arthur.
“Also ten guineas. It’s so hard to spare anyone from the gaol.”
“Is there no one closer to here who can vouch for you?” asked Sergeant Flagstone.
“Are you acquainted with Professor Dumbarton at Cambridge?” asked Vanessa.
“Of course we are!” said Flagstone. “He’s come to the Castle several times – just in the past couple weeks, as a matter of fact. If you know Professor Dumbarton, we can definitely release the sword to you.”
“Excellent,” said Vanessa.
“All you need is a message from Professor Dumbarton vouching for you,” said Sir John. “We can send a rider on your behalf. For ten guineas.”
“We’ll take care of it ourselves,” said Arthur, “at a much more reasonable price.”
Their business concluded, Sir John escorted them back to the great hall, rambling on about his knighthood the entire time.
Vanessa looked around the cavernous room, which was now filled with family members of prisoners, all clamoring for a chance to send a message, food or medicine to their loved ones in the hellish pits below. The families would have to pay for the privilege of having their parcels delivered. And even then, what started out as a loaf of bread in the hall would most likely be reduced to only a slice or two by the time it reached its intended target. It sickened Vanessa to think of the corruption which was widespread throughout the country’s many prisons.
As they walked toward the entrance, they passed an elderly lady holding bread and some cheese. She was arguing with the constable, who had little patience for the woman. Vanessa was about to intercede when Sir John showed them the door.
“Do let me know as soon as you hear back from Dumba
rton,” said the officious governor. “I look forward to concluding our business.” With that, the man walked back through the great hall, ignoring the families’ pleas to speak with him.
Vanessa made a move to follow him, but Arthur escorted her out the door. “It angers me, too, love. But right now our mission is the Larsen. Antagonizing Sir John won’t help us get it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
After sending an express to Cambridge asking for Dumbarton’s letter of introduction, Arthur and Vanessa took another walk through town, making guarded inquiries about Mortimer and Cassidy. But once again, they found no sign of the pair despite having spent many a coin. They shared a midday meal at a respectable tavern near the castle square, then they began making their way back to the inn. However, Arthur could not help but notice when Vanessa paused as they passed a shop.
“What is it?” he asked, looking into the shop through the window. “Do you see them?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she said wistfully, before turning toward the inn once more.
Arthur remained at the window looking in. It appeared to be a small café, similar to a tea shop, with several small tables set up inside. “Would you like something? It appears to be some sort of sweet shop.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she walked back toward him. “Not sweets, I….” She shook her head again.
Arthur gazed into the shop once again to see what had interested her. Then he smiled. “They sell ices,” he said. “Now we simply must go inside.”
She shook her head again and tried to turn away, but he reached out and took her by the hand. “I cannot have my wife disobeying me in public,” he said, as he tugged her toward the entrance then ushered her through the door. “I simply must insist that we sample a few ices before continuing in our quest.” They were shown to a table before she could protest further. “What is your favorite flavor?” he asked. “Will it be a sweet strawberry, a tart lemon or perhaps a rich chocolate?”
“I cannot say,” she said, watching as he made lounging in a chair an art form.
Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) Page 8