The King's Evil by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical Mystery, 19th century
ISBN: 9780749008970
Publisher: Allison & Busby, Limited
Published: 2010-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

The Jolly Sailor belied its name that evening. It was half-empty when Jonathan Bale arrived and the atmosphere felt curiously flat. Most patrons were either too drunk to exhibit any jollity or too sober to get drawn into a song. The constable did not mind. During his years as a shipwright, the tavern had been a favourite of his. He felt comfortable among seafaring men, sharing their concerns, understanding their problems and talking their language. His office might have given him a new sense of responsibility but it did not deprive him of his love of the sea or of those who made their living in its capricious bosom.

Jonathan talked easily to six or seven sailors before he chanced upon one who could really help. The man was on his own in a corner.

'You have heard of Sir Ambrose Northcott, then?' said Jonathan.

'Oh, yes,' replied the other before spitting dramatically on the floor. 'I know the rogue only too well.'

'Why is that?'

'Because I sailed aboard his ship.'

'For how long?'

'Almost two years.'

Jonathan smiled. 'Let me fill your tankard for you, my friend.'

'I'll not try to stop you.'

The constable sat opposite him at a rough wooden table and called for more beer. When both their tankards were full, they clinked them before taking a long sip apiece. Appraising his companion, Jonathan realised why the man chose to lurk in a shadowy corner of the tavern. He was a short, solid individual in his forties with huge scarred hands. His face was so ugly that it had a kind of grotesque fascination. Nature had contrived the misshapen features and an occasional brawl accounted for the broken nose and the swollen ear but these were minor distractions from the dozens of large, hideous, red boils which swarmed across his cheeks, chin and forehead like so many enraged wasps.

'Do not look too close, sir,' said the man. 'Take pity on me.'

'Have you always had this condition?'

'It came on me this last year.'

'Is there no cure?'

'I have not found one yet so I am instead trying to cure people of staring at me like a freak.' He bunched a menacing fist. 'The only thing which seems to work is to loosen their teeth with this.'

'I am sorry,' said Jonathan, averting his gaze. 'You mentioned a ship. I had heard that Sir Ambrose owned a vessel.'

'That is right. The Marie Louise.'

'A strange name for an English ship.'

'It was called The Maid of Kent when I sailed in her.'

'Marie Louise does not sound much like a maid of Kent.'

A throaty laugh. 'More like a whore of Calais!'

'When was the name changed?'

'Some time last year, they tell me.'

'And did they say why?'

'No,' replied the man. 'Some whim of Sir Ambrose Northcott's. He was always doing things like that. Making decisions, changing things around. And he was a loathsome passenger to have aboard. Real tyrant, he was. Never stopped harrying the crew. Many's the time I'd have liked to push him overboard.'

'Where did you sail?'

'Anywhere and everywhere. Spain, Portugal, France, Holland, even Norway on occasion.

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