William decided to say what they were both thinking. “Maybe it’s not here. If it’s that important, then maybe he keeps it on him all the time.”
Ignoring the suggestion, Richard said, “Help me look if you won’t clean up.”
Glancing about, William lit upon the books on the shelf. They were as dusty as everything else, and it was obvious they didn’t see much use either. Some had beautiful covers, while others were plainly bound. Drawn to the decorative ones, he opened a few to their front pages so he could see what they were about.
“Richard, stop a moment,” he said eagerly. “Look at these books. Alchemy, astrology, magic….”
“Of course he has books. He’s a scholar,” Richard muttered, shuffling through yet more leaves of paper.
“Sounds more like a witch to me, but I think this stuff is just for show. He doesn’t appear to use any of it.”
William didn’t believe in witchcraft, having seen a kindly spinster accused for no more reason than a need to blame someone when a series of misfortunes fell upon the village. She knew herb lore, which seemed to make people suspicious when they didn’t have a headache, a toothache, or a feverish child.
Picking up the only clean book, which was on magic, he glanced inside but found it was in a language he didn’t understand. It had been annotated in English, however.
“Look, he’s marked this page,” he said. “‘A spell to bring misfortune.’ That’s vague.”
Richard did not respond, so William turned a few more pages and found a folded piece of paper. “There’s something hidden in here,” he said, pulling it out and handing it to Richard, whose attention he now had in full.
Richard snatched it up and opened the paper, then took the poem out of his bag to check whether it was done in the same hand. He looked it over silently and appeared confused.
“Is that it?” William asked.
“I think so.” Richard handed William the poem, not taking his eyes from the list. “Danbye’s man wrote this, all right, but I’ve no idea what it’s for. It’s certainly not a list of traitors. It’s titled ‘The Unlucky Ones.’” Richard’s eyes scanned down farther, and then he screwed up his face as he muttered, “He’s not on here. Bennett’s name isn’t on the list.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
“I’ve no idea.”
William grabbed a quill, ink, and paper. “Here, write down the names.”
Richard could write fast, and William was impressed with his speed, having never written more than his own name before. It was legible too, and William noted names he knew to be members of the Queen’s court, among those he did not. Then he saw Richard copy down Roger Danbye.
“Danbye? That doesn’t bode well for my wages.”
“The Queen herself is on this,” Richard replied, not bothering to look up at him. “These aren’t traitors, but some of them are powerful people.”
“Are you sure we have the right paper?”
“Look at the hand. This is the one. Danbye told me he knew little; only that these names were of interest to those who wished harm to the Queen. This could be a list of their greatest enemies for all we know.”
William tucked the poem into his jacket and finished tidying the room while Richard completed the list.
A few minutes later, they were at the door, about to step into the corridor. William poked his head outside to check the hall and saw a man dressed in college robes walking toward the room.
He quickly stuck his head back inside and whispered, “Hide, someone is coming! I’ll tell you when he’s gone.”
William stepped into the hallway again and found himself staring straight at the stranger. He was a young man, maybe only a year or two older than William, and was clearly not one of the students. He removed his cap to reveal hair so blond it was almost white, which was made even more striking by his light gray eyes. His coloring put him far from William’s usual type, and William wouldn’t have called him conventionally handsome, but something about the man was disarmingly attractive.
“Who are you?” the scholar asked. “I’ve not seen you before.”
The question was simply put, with no hint of anything more than polite interest, but William could tell from the way the fellow’s eyes moved over him that he was being appraised and admired quite openly. This was what Eleanor meant when she told him to be careful.
William lowered his head a little. “I’m the new bedder, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“William.”
Reaching around him, the man, who he now realized to be Jacob Hobbes, turned the handle and opened the door. “Come on, then, William,” he said. “Let’s see your work.”
William prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that Richard was well hidden. As he stepped inside, head down still, Hobbes muttered, “You left the window open.”
“My mistake,” William said. “Please forgive me, sir.”
Hobbes closed the window and walked back toward him. William tensed and didn’t bring his eyes up to meet the scholar’s, hoping Hobbes took it as respect for his rank rather than William’s nerves.
He waited for Hobbes to speak but instead felt the scholar’s hand touch his head gently.
“You have lovely hair,” he said, stroking it.
William looked up at him now, wondering if he would have to buy himself out of the room.
“Thank you, sir,” he said apprehensively. Then he felt a sharp pain as a strand of hair was yanked from his head. “Ouch!”
Hobbes chuckled and took the hair over to his table, where he laid it down against a piece of parchment and looked at it intently.
William waited, showing more patience than he felt, while Hobbes inspected the hair. His initial impression faded entirely, and now he found Hobbes only disconcerting.
“Are you a virgin?” Hobbes asked, not looking up at him.
“Pardon?”
Hobbes glanced across at him, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s a simple enough question, isn’t it?” he asked casually. “Are you innocent? Pure? Are you a virgin?”
William blushed. “I’m not, no,” he muttered. He might not have felt Richard move inside him yet, but he wasn’t untouched.
“Pity.” Hobbes took up the hair and tossed it into the fire.
“May I leave now, sir?”
“Go. Go on.”
William moved quickly. His hand was on the door when Hobbes said, “Wait!”
William held his breath. He turned slowly to see the scholar warming his hands by the fire.
“Air the sheets tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” William said and let himself out before Hobbes could issue any more orders.
As the door shut, William paused and let out a long-held breath. He could hear Hobbes laughing heartily and was pleased to be out of his company. He walked down the corridor but set a fast pace, eager to escape now the work was done. It would be better to get away now than when someone noticed a set of robes missing, but William had made Eleanor a promise, and he intended to keep it.
Besides, the farther he got from the room, the better he felt. The excitement was returning, knowing he was but a few minutes from being outside and on the way to Danbye’s home, where payment awaited. Richard had promised William he would be rich, and he was thrilled at the prospect. If he was careful with the money and invested it wisely, he could be set for life.
But even better was the promise of what would come that evening. They would soon be on the road to London, and luck would no longer be required. He would be in Richard’s arms that night.
He arrived at the meeting point to find Eleanor already there waiting for him. She appeared nervous and looked around to make sure nobody was paying them too much attention as servants passed.
Ushering him into a storeroom full of buckets and rags, she whispered, “Have you got it?”
William removed the paper and handed it to her. “Here. Your poem.”
Carefully she unfolded it
and looked it over. Tears pricked her eyes, and she rested her hand on her belly again. “Thank you,” she whispered as she tucked the paper away against her breast.
“Was it about you?”
“He said it was. But he said a lot of things. I should have known better than to trust him.”
Taking her hand, William said, “I think you do him a disservice. He surely must have loved you if he wrote you that.”
She smiled as she wiped away her tears. “Yes, I suppose so.”
William let go of her hand and gave her a hug instead. “I have to go now,” he told her gently. “I won’t be back. Thank you for helping me today.”
She bit her lip awkwardly and whispered, “It’s only fair I tell you that Danbye’s men told me they don’t know you and you’ve never worked at the house. They’re waiting for you outside the kitchen door, and I don’t think they intend to talk about it.”
Realizing the poem had brought him a lot more than the number of Hobbes’s room, William was grateful for her honesty. “I swear to you, today I am Danbye’s man. You believe me, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to believe, but you seem decent and have kept a promise, which is more than most others he has sent to work here. Come with me. I’ll show you another way out.”
She took him to the students’ entrance, which they had passed on the tour. A guard stood beside it. William saw Richard exiting ahead of him, still in disguise. Richard went past without being questioned and walked on toward their horse.
Eleanor led William to the door and loudly said, “Go on, hurry through and back to your master. Next time woo your girl on Sunday, in your own time, so you won’t need to come through here. I shan’t help you again. You’ll have to go through the kitchen and be late.”
He hurried past the guard, who paid him no mind, and stepped onto the street. Richard, still dressed in his scholar’s disguise, was readying the horse.
This was it, William thought, it was over, and they would be back on the road to London within the hour.
“Run, William!” Eleanor shouted.
He didn’t look back as he took off, but he could hear men behind him, bellowing to the guard to help stop him.
“I have a sword!” Richard shouted, turning around and throwing off his disguise. He drew his weapon and ran toward them, sword in one hand, dagger in the other.
William chanced a look over his shoulder; his pursuers were nervous now Richard had come to his aid.
“I’ve Geoffrey’s dagger,” he told Richard and pulled it from the back of his hose. It was still sheathed, but he turned and brandished it at the men regardless.
“Get to the horse,” Richard barked.
Richard protected him, and William ran to the horse and clambered up onto the animal’s back. He was surprised to find the hunter wasn’t spooked, but any horse of Bennett’s had probably been in similar situations before.
“Let’s go!” he shouted to Richard, who lunged once more at Danbye’s men, pushing them back.
Richard turned and dashed over to William, who helped pull him onto the horse. They were gone moments later, galloping up the road and around the corner.
“Where are we going?” William asked.
“Danbye’s house.”
“Will it be safe there? Those were his men.”
“I know. They recognized me even without my beard. That’s why they let me hold them back with the sword instead of rushing me. One of them definitely knows me. At least, he has known me. He was in my bed more than once when I worked for Danbye. I don’t think he’ll reveal who I am.”
They stopped at the inn first, collected their things, and made two more copies of the list before paying for the room. Richard left extra to ensure that anyone asking would find they’d not stayed there. Then they were on their way to Danbye’s home, and this time when they arrived, William was allowed into his private study.
Danbye sat at a table, reading through some papers. He looked up when they were ushered in but didn’t greet them.
“Is it done?” he asked, addressing Richard and ignoring William.
“Your name is on the list.”
The justice’s face grew pale. “Good Lord.” He put a hand to his chest as if he was in pain.
Richard went to him, pulling one of the copies he’d made out of his doublet. “It’s all right. You needn’t worry. It’s not a list of traitors, unless the Queen is one herself. I made you a copy of it.”
Danbye snatched it out of Richard’s hands and looked it over, his face taking on a similar frown to the one Richard had sported when he first saw it. “The Unlucky Ones,” he muttered. “The first four men named are dead.”
Richard made no comment, and they waited silently until Danbye put it down on his table and looked out the window.
“Your Worship,” Richard said gently, “there is the matter of my payment.”
Danbye looked at him irritably. “Of course.” He took a purse from his belt and handed it to Richard. “Twenty-five sovereigns. Please count them. I have been distracted this morning, and I may have missed one.”
Richard did so, and the money move from the purse to the table and back again. It was all there, and if Richard meant what he said, it was all William’s. More money than he had ever possessed in his entire life, and though he knew he should save it, a little might be spent on new clothes, a dagger of his own, and perhaps some sent to his mother and father so they could see how well he’d done.
AN HOUR later, William was buying late lunches for them at a tavern on the road back to London and feeling like a king.
“You’re still my apprentice, you know,” Richard said, eyeing the slabs of roasted meat on their table. “I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”
“I’m the best-paid apprentice in England. I can afford to treat you.”
“Don’t get used to the cash. You will never have it again. You may need it to run if the watch is still after you. If Bennett withdraws his complaint, then you must use it instead to secure your future in the company. Don’t touch even a farthing, and when your apprenticeship is finished, you can buy yourself in.”
“I will,” William promised, but he wasn’t listening. All he could think of was getting a private room upstairs and spending the whole afternoon sitting on Richard’s cock. He doubted his lover would allow that either. Nightfall seemed a long way away, but there were other nice things to talk about while they were on the road.
The innkeeper approached their table and asked if they’d picked up any news on their travels. William knew little, but Richard had a wealth of it from his time spent touring and as the weather was turning to rain, he obliged the man.
William sat and listened in silence, chuckling when he noticed them doing so, but not paying attention. His mind kept returning to the garden, where Richard had made the comment that William was just for him. It wasn’t the first sweet thing Richard had said unprompted, but it was the first time he hadn’t pushed William away afterward. That must mean something.
Last week, the idea of Richard being in love with him went straight to his groin, but this was different. Now what he felt warmed him all over, instead of the heat pooling in his lap the way it always had before.
The passion remained and would not be dampened, but there was so much more between them now. Richard brought him comfort and contentment mixed with a little of the old hope. Richard had always been talented and handsome, but now William could testify without a doubt that he was brave, generous, and caring too. He finally knew Richard, and he was truly falling in love.
But he couldn’t tell Richard, not right now. Two days had passed since he’d told his master he did not love him, and even after the look they’d shared in the college garden, he would be embarrassed to recant. Richard had said he liked William’s childish declarations of love, but William felt the immaturity behind them too keenly. Now he would hold back, wait until he was sure Richard would admit he felt the same. It would be all the sweet
er knowing that when he confessed his feelings, they would be returned.
And there was no question they wouldn’t be. William felt very satisfied as he ate, confident that, like everything else since he left home, he would get what he wanted in the end.
Chapter Eighteen
RICHARD ARRIVED at Bennett’s home at midday. The return journey had been slower, and they’d trudged through driving rain for five days, leading the horse slowly through thick mud in many places where the roads weren’t well maintained by the locals. Worse still, the inns were busier and there were no private rooms to be had. Every night they slept on boards shared by as many as six men, and they hadn’t a moment to relax as they wished. Richard’s mood would have been low even if he was not about to confront, for the last time, a man he despised.
A servant he didn’t know let him inside and left him in the hallway. A few minutes later, Bennett greeted him alone, carrying a pile of dry clothes and towels.
“Richard,” Bennett said warmly, “this is a happy surprise. I wasn’t sure you would be back.”
“You knew I would return. You left me no choice,” he growled, glancing toward Bennett. He didn’t dignify him with eye contact.
Bennett looked around. “Is William hiding somewhere?” he asked. “That’s sensible.”
Richard made no comment. He wasn’t going to give anything away until he had Bennett’s word he would not harm the lad.
Bennett waited for him to speak, nodding when he accepted he would not. “Come. I believe I owe you some money.”
They made their way to the bedchamber. Inside, Richard went immediately to warm himself by the fire, Bennett following in his wake.
“Dry yourself and put these on,” Bennett said. “I’ll find something for you to take to William, wherever he is. I’m sure he is as cold and wet as you are.”
Richard silently took the towel and carelessly threw the clothes on the floor. He could see they were new, probably even made especially for him, knowing Bennett, but he was bothered only by the fact they were dry. He wouldn’t be bought with an expensive doublet and hose.
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