Sackett's Land

            'And well they could do it,' Jublain admitted. 'A man would have the devil's own time finding a way to come in.'

            For the time being we were safe. This had been a snug haven even from the Danes. When they had finally captured the Isle of Ely after their first defeat they had never found this place. The house, old as it was, had been rebuilt, patched and repaired time and again.

            Yet I had no idea of hiding forever in the fens, especially with more money in pocket than I'd ever had before. The events of the past few days had caused me to reexamine my life and choose a course I could steer with safety.

            Pulling an oar through the dark channels had given me time to think and my thoughts had taken a sudden turn. Perhaps the use of the sword had inspired it; more likely the jingle of coins!

            'We will be quiet and fish for a few days,' I told Jublain. 'Then off for London.'

            'London? Are you daft, man? That is where Genester will be, and where he is strongest.'

            'It is a vast city,' I said complacently. 'Folk say more than one hundred thousand people live there. How could I be found among so many?'

            'You are a child,' Jublain said angrily. 'It is too small a place in which to hide from hate.'

            'I've a few coins,' I said, 'and I'm of no mind to rot in the fens. I do not wish to spend my life fishing or hunting with the bow.'

            'You are an archer, too?'

            'So is every man in the fens. We can live by the bow.'

            'Let us off to the wars, then. We might do uncommon well.'

            'And lose an arm or an eye? No, I'll go a-venturing, but with goods, not my life.'

            'You'd become a merchant? A trader?'

            'Why not? Buy a packet of goods and ship as a merchant venturer for the New World. There's a man named Gosnold, Bartholomew Gosnold, a gentleman from Suffolk. He has it in mind to start a colony there. There's wealth in trading with the Indians, he says.'

            'Bah!' Jublain was impatient. 'Idle talk! Who knows what is there? The Spanish have done well, but north of their lands there is nothing but cold forests and hostile savages.'

            'And furs,' I said.

            'You live well here,' he said. 'You'd be a fool to give it up.'

            'There's geese,' I admitted, 'and ducks and fish and wild plants and eels. Or if a man was so inclined he could smuggle.'

            'But not you?' he asked cynically.

            'I've a regard for law, although I do not always agree with it. Without law, man becomes a beast.'

            Jublain stared, then shrugged. 'You are an odd one. All right, if it is London you wish for, to London we will go, but remember what I said. It is a small town when you are hated.'

            Outside, we tried our swords. Jublain was good, skilled in ways in which I was not. Yet soon I realized I was his master, and deliberately held back because I valued his friendship. He was a difficult man, cross- grained, cynical, a scoffer. He seemed to believe in nothing but fighting, wandering, drinking, and wenching. So I took my practice with him, tried to learn, and refused to show the limits of my skill.

            To me, one hundred thousand people was a multitude. Between London and us, England was heavily forested with stretches of wild moorland and the marshy wastes of the fens. Roads were mere cart tracks or trails, wandering by the easiest routes through the forests and across the land. All were infested with thieves and highwaymen.

            These things my father had told me. There were scattered farms, a few great estates. A few old Roman roads were still in use. New roads were often knee-deep in mud.

            Waterways would offer the easiest route across country, but any travel was a hardship. Most who traveled understood why the word 'travel' had once been 'travail.'

            'We will go by sea,' I said.

            'A ship will be hard to come by in these fens,' Jublain said wryly.

            'We're not over-far from Boston, from which sail many ships, but I've a thought we need not even go so far. We'll put the word out, my friend, and catch a ship off the River Nene.'

            Inside, the fire crackled in the fireplace and the warm glow had driven the damp chill from the little house. There was wood enough close by, I'd seen to that. We carried in several armsful and dropped them near the hearth.

            'If you've a notion of hunting treasure,' I said, 'you can always look for the Royal Crown jewels lost by King John, crossing the Wash. So far as anyone knows they still lie in the mud there, for no man has ever found them. King John died only a short time after ...'

            'I've heard men speak of those jewels. What a pretty find they would be!'

            'Don't trouble yourself. By now they're deep sunk in mud or washed out to sea. Someday they'll be found, but a long time from now, I'm thinking, and by accident.'

            I cut thick slices from a ham and tossed them into a pan for frying. It was warm and snug within and the fog was still thick Without—it might hang on for days.

            'Do you know London?' I asked him.

            'A bit. There are some inns, but better are the places kept by soldiers' wives; they are cleaner, I am thinking. But the White Hart in Southwark is a likely place, or the Tabard, near London Bridge.'

            'Good! Within three days then.'

            Long it had been in my thoughts to see London, for there was much I had to learn, and inquiries to make of the New World. Perhaps I could talk to Gosnold himself.

            Some new clothing first. What I wore was not good enough for London ... for the places I wished to go ... for Gosnold.

            Yet even as I thought, I looked quickly around. Would I ever come back to this? Was I leaving it only for now? Or forever?

            Was I deliberately venturing into London because of Genester's threat?

            No! I examined myself carefully and found no challenge there. Genester was not important to me. What was important was that I improve myself and my condition.

            My father had taught me much of arms and fighting. Laboriously and through long hours he had taught me to read and write. He had schooled me in manners. He had given me the knowledge and skills that could make me an officer and a gentleman ... Was I to waste them here? This much he had done. It was up to me to take the next step.

            'Give a thought to your future, Jublain,' I said. 'You need not always be only a soldier nor I a man of the fens. I intend one day to have a name and an estate.'

            He smiled thinly, his eyes taunting. 'You have large ideas. I have heard them before ... many times.'

            'I will do it, Jublain.'

            He glanced at me thoughtfully. 'You might, at that. After all, some of the great families of the world were founded with nothing but a sword and a strong right arm.'

            'I shall found a family,' I said, 'but not with a sword.'

            Jublain shrugged. 'You might do it, but keep the sword at hand. You'll need it.'

        Chapter 4

            The tavern we chose in Southwark was a great, rambling old structure with a large wagon yard, a double row of balconies hanging over the yard, and on the ground floor, a room where drinks were served—a warm and friendly place. In an adjoining room, meals were served.

            Business was brisk. Horsemen came and went at all hours. Wagons, carts, and, more rarely, carriages came into the yard.

            Despite his hesitation about claiming a knowledge of London, Jublain guided me to a tailor where I outfitted myself with a rich but modest wardrobe, equipping Jublain with a few items of which he was in need.

            'You'll have no money at this rate,' Jublain warned. 'If you're to go a-venturing you'll be needing it all to buy goods.'