Sackett's Land

gave me the time I needed. Swinging over the rail in front of the balcony, I lowered myself down, swung my body once, then let go, dropping to the floor of the balcony below. People shouted, a woman screamed, then they scattered before me as I leaped for the rail and dropped to the pit.

            Above me I heard angry shouts, cursing, and then I ducked through the door and outside.

            It was totally dark. I ran a dozen steps, cut right into a maze of alleyways, then turned abruptly right again and emerged in a lane. Slowing my pace I walked swiftly, listening for sounds of pursuit.

            Only Corvino's timely fall, a very neat trick, had saved me. Now where to go? Did they know I was staying at the Tabard? That I doubted, but it would not take them long to cover the town now it was known that I was present.

            Under trees near a barnyard, I paused, and wondered what to do. It was cold. Fresh patches of an early snow still lay on the ground.

            Yet the bold way was ever the right way for me, and some distance away I saw the dark bulk of a house of some size. It seemed to be a place of importance, with a number of outbuildings.

            Walking along the lane, picking my way around puddles of muddy water, I opened the gate at last. Immediately, I was rushed by several huge dogs, barking furiously.

            Standing very still, I called out to the house. After a moment, a chain rattled, I heard a bar removed, and the door opened cautiously. A woman stood in the door, candle in hand.

            'Bruno! Silence!'

            A woman certainly, and a young woman, I believed.

            I spoke quietly, just loud enough to be heard. 'Madam? Will you call off your dogs? I am in trouble enough, without this.'

            'Who are you?'

            I walked toward her, the dogs snuffing at my legs, and one of them leaning rather hard against me. 'An unfortunate traveler who has been attacked by ruffians.'

            It could not be an unfamiliar story. London had its share of scoundrels.

            'I have escaped them, madam, but have no idea how far I am from London Bridge, or how I am to return.'

            By that time I had advanced into the light and my elegant but modest dress seemed to convince her. 'Come. Please come in.'

            She stood aside, and hat in hand, I entered. Behind her stood a young woman, obviously a servant, but one of awesome dimensions. She looked upon me with no favor.

            The other woman, a girl, who held the candle, was several years younger than I ... and she was lovely.

            'I fear I cause you inconvenience,' I said. 'If you will but show me the road—'

            'You cannot walk the roads hereabouts at night,' she said severely. 'Lila, prepare a bed for this gentleman in the spare chamber.'

            Lila was about to protest, and at any other time I would have commended her good sense (and had it been any other than myself), but before she could speak her objections, the young lady spoke again, an edge to her tone. 'Lila! I believe you heard me.'

            With a flounce, Lila turned and went away, every inch of her body stiff with disapproval.

            The young lady led the way into a large, square room furnished in the heavy style of a few years back. 'Would you have a bit of something? If my father were here I am sure he would offer you something. Some sack, perhaps?'

            Reflecting that I had chanced into a fortunate situation, I said, 'Please.'

            She filled a small glass, then stood back.

            'None for yourself?'

            'Oh, no, sir! I never touch it!'

            The 'sir' was rather more than I was entitled to, yet I was suddenly wary. After all, what did I know of this place? Perhaps I had stumbled into a den of murderers.

            A second look convinced me I was a fool. This was a very young girl, gently bred, her cheeks soft, no hint of hardness. And I had my sword.

            'I am Barnabas Sackett, at your service!'

            'I am Abigail Tempany.'

            Ignorant as I was of London and its people, I had heard the name only the day before. Her grandfather had a young son who amassed a fortune trading in Venice, Constantinople and the Black Sea. Only recently he had returned to his English lands, beginning at once to outfit ships for the New World. Aware of all such talk because of my own plans, the name had struck me as one to whom I might hope to speak.

            We talked for a short time while I enjoyed the sack, purposely prolonging it because of my pleasure in her company. She knew little of London, and I must have seemed very knowing with all my easy talk of Jonson, Marlowe, Shakespeare and Will Kemp, much of which I had only heard that evening.

            She bade me good-night, and Lila showed me to a chamber.

            'I sleep lightly,' Lila suggested warningly, and I smiled at her. 'Very lightly,' she added.

            'And I, also,' I said. 'A trouble, is it not?'

            Yet it seemed I had scarcely slept when morning was graying my window. I arose, bathed lightly and donned by clothes. I was hesitating to decide whether I should simply leave quietly or wait until I could pay my respects when there was a light tap on the door.

            It was, of course, Lila.

            'The master is breaking his fast. He requests your presence,' she said.

            Captain Brian Tempany was a stalwart, gray-haired man with a spade beard darker than his hair. He shot me a hard, level look from cool blue eyes and gestured to a seat.

            'Ruffians, was it? Hadn't you a sword?'

            'I had ... and have. But there were a number of them and I became separated from my friends.'

            He looked at me coolly and waited until I was seated. 'I was at the theater,' he said bluntly, 'in the box next to the one into which you dropped.'

            'I could not easily have explained all that,' I said, embarrassed, 'and might have frightened your daughter.'

            'Abigail,' he said grimly, 'is not easily frightened. She stood beside me off the Malabar coast and used a pistol to repel pirates who were attempting to board us.'

            He faced me squarely. 'Why were you fleeing like a rogue from Rupert Genester?'

            Lying would serve no purpose, and this man was no fool. As briefly as possible, I explained.

            'Ivo's son, eh? I know the name. He was a fighting man. And you? What of you?'

            'He taught me the blade, Captain.'

            'He did, did he? Well, probably it was better to avoid them. A bunch of rascals, Genester included.' He stared at me. 'You wish to return to London?'

            'I have a meeting there with the man I mentioned.'

            'To whom you would sell your coins? May I see them?'

            From my purse, hidden inside my shirt, I took them out and placed them upon the table.

            He touched them with his finger, studying them intently. 'Yes, yes ... good! Good!'

            He stirred them about, studying the light as it fell upon the details of the coins. 'I will buy them.'

            I was startled. 'I had promised Coveney Has—'

            'It will be well with him. As a matter of truth, I wish to make a gift of these coins to the very man to whom he planned to show them.'

            'You know him?'

            'I do. England is a small country, after all. Men with like interests tend to know each other. I am not a member of the Society of Antiquaries, but I know of them. This man to whom Hasling would show the coins is a man of influence at court, where I need a word spoken for me.'

            'You say you know him?'

            He smiled. 'And he knows of you. This gentleman of the Antiquaries is the very man whom your