The Alchemist of Lost Souls by Mary Lawrence

Author:Mary Lawrence
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2019-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

“At least let me walk with you to the water,” said Bianca the next morning. She had cooked a filling breakfast of bacon and boiled eggs, and had spared no expense for their last meal together. While he slept, Bianca had dressed, then woken their neighbor to trade muscle liniment for a dozen eggs. She walked down the lane for a loaf of bread, then returned to unwrap a flitch of bacon they’d been nibbling at for months. Despite the inconvenience that spattered grease would pose the next time she worked on her medicines (unexpected fires), she withstood the smoke and burns from cooking and presented John with a substantial and (John could not deny it) delicious meal.

Their time together, however, was at an end.

John preferred to say goodbye in their rent and forgo an emotional public display in front of other poor wretches similarly conscripted. But Bianca didn’t care a cobbler’s cuss what others thought and, despite John’s objections, she accompanied him to the waterfront. Perched on her shoulder with his cheek against hers rode Hobs.

The feline must have sensed something amiss and followed his people out of Gull Hole onto Tooley Street where Bianca feared he might get in a tangle with a roaming dog. He ignored their admonishments to return home; it was easier just to let him come. In fact, John felt touched that Hobs was so determined to follow.

The two spoke very little on the way there. They held hands and occasionally John lifted Bianca’s to his lips. Rarely did the couple show affection in public, but today their usual reserve seemed a silly and wasted pretense.

Ahead, a parade of somber couples meandered toward the waiting barges at Paris Garden. Some had children in tow, others a companion dog that would be abandoned once its master boarded. As the recruited men approached the crowd of bystanders, their spines straightened and their jaws leveled. Sometimes it took the company of others to steel a man to his fate.

The boats would take the men across to Bridewell, where they would disembark and march to the Strand, expecting to camp at St. Martin’s Fields. A fair number of men carried warbows and a quiver of arrows—a badge of their coveted status. John carried nothing. A bill or a pike would be supplied later, and he’d be given some cursory training on how to handle the cumbersome weapon. He wondered how long they’d be at the field practicing weaponry and drilling before being dispatched to their assigned guard.

John pulled Bianca off to the side and they watched an officer at a table tick off names as inductees filed past. Once accounted for, the recruits climbed aboard a barge and squeezed in next to one another. A brazen few made light of their situation—as much to fraternize as to mask an underlying dread. John kept an anxious eye on the dwindling line, but his focus remained on Bianca. He was in no hurry to start his new life as a soldier.

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