The Wolf's Shadow by G J Williams

Author:G J Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Legend Press
Published: 2024-07-22T17:17:54+00:00

Dee was trembling with exertion by the time they reached the threshold. He leaned on the door, resting his head against it and forced his lungs to take in air. The surface of the door was marked full of small dints and smelled of oiled wood. Gasping with his efforts, he shuffled in and sat heavily on a wooden chair, still trying to catch his breath.

The turnkey sat behind a large desk. On the wall behind, were rows of hooks, each one hung with a large key strung with a small parchment bearing a name. Some with two or three names. On one there were ten. Seeing Margaretta studying the wall, he smirked.

‘A good turnkey knows where every man sits, and which key he prays will free him.’ He pointed behind him. ‘The lower keys with many names are for the below-ground cells… for our less affluent guests. The other rows go up with the floors of the Fleet.’

‘So, the top floor has fewer cells with only one occupant,’ said Dee.

‘Indeed. For our more noble guests who are allowed to leave to do business and make up their debts.’

‘So, which cell held Henry Carey?’

Silence.

Damn you. You will hold your tongue for as much silver as you can make.

Dee tried again. ‘Please, sir. As I said, this is important business and a young man may be in danger of his life.’

Silence. Just another smirking smile.

You pig of a man. You care not for anyone’s life. Instead, you think of heavy pockets. So, what are you thinking?

‘I think this one. Cell Twelve, which is on the first level. So at least he was not in the dungeon.’

The turnkey jumped to his feet, eyes wide with anger and alarm. ‘How did you know? What witchcraft is this? What kind of demon are you?’

Oh, God. Why can’t I bid my tongue to be more obedient?

Dee sighed. ‘No, sir. We only knew to come here to enquire after Henry Carey, because we were told of his incarceration. Cell Twelve was written in Babington’s ledger.’ He shot a warning look at Margaretta and lowered his voice to a warning rumble. ‘My servant… my simple servant… may have a quick tongue but it is certainly not forked.’

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