A Burnable Book by Bruce Holsinger

Author:Bruce Holsinger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-03-10T16:00:00+00:00

On the fourth night, in the stillest hours, they awoke to hoarse shouts on the street below. Cracking a shutter, Millicent looked out to see five men on horseback, dark hoods and cloaks obscuring any features. They were clustered up by Smith’s Rents, their animals circling in the darkness. One of them dismounted and approached the Pricking Bishop, his short sword glistening at his side.

The shouts had come not from him, though, but from his unexpected antagonist.

“Y’aren’t Southwark men, that be sure.”

Millicent leaned out. Down below stood St. Cath, yawping in the lantern-light, a withered arm in the air, her shift billowing obscenely in the night breezes. The old woman pointed up the alley in the direction of the palace. “By what right do you trounce in the bishop’s liberties? By whose warrant?”

St. Cath’s crazed bravery soon brought company. Three maudlyns joined her on the street to confront the armed man. They were joined in turn by a dozen girls from the other houses, all shouting at the company to leave the stews the way they had come. Soon nearly twenty maudlyns of Southwark had encircled the men, cackling a righteous din to fill the stews. More lanterns were brought out, the lane filling with a shimmering glow.

Millicent moved for a better view, and her elbow pushed the shutter slightly to her right. The movement drew the man’s attention. He looked up. His face was covered, all but his eyes and forehead wrapped in a black scarf tucked between his doublet and cape. For a long moment, in the glare of the lamps, she stood frozen by his stare. His eyes, deep and cruel, smoldered as he memorized her face. Then he looked away.

Now more distant cries, the echo of metal on metal, the clatter of hooves, and everyone’s attention was drawn up Rose Alley. Joined by Agnes and Eleanor at the window, Millicent heard before she saw the opposing company bearing down hard past the Vine. The man on foot turned and sprinted back to his horse, joining his fellows in a mad dash in the opposite direction.

For these were the bishop of Winchester’s liberties, the unannounced intrusion by the strange company a violation of ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The bishop did not take such incursions lightly, nor did his men, a company of which had been dispatched from the palace’s main guardhouse into the stews. It was an unfair fight, for though the strangers had the advantage of surprise, Winchester’s men were greater in number. Within minutes the violators had been chased through Bishopspark and into Winchester’s Wild, where they would scatter themselves to the winds.

Once the street had calmed, there were sounds of shutters slamming along the way. Bess Waller appeared at the door, her cheeks ruddy in the candlelight. “You need to leave, all you, at first bell. They were here for that book, plain as the sun.” She did a circuit of the room, shoving their few things into a basket and sack.

“But where are we to go, mère?” Agnes asked her as she pulled on her shoes.

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