The Lady Flirts with Death by Peg Herring

Author:Peg Herring
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gwendolyn Books
Published: 2018-08-31T00:00:00+00:00

SIMON COULDN’T BRING himself to abandon Peto’s cause without telling him what he’d learned. Once outside the Bell Tower, he stepped into the shadows of an alcove. When he emerged, the cassock was gone and he wore instead a black wig. He’d inserted small rolls of linen in his cheeks to change his looks and wore his own brown clothing. In his good hand he carried a slate and some chalk. Proceeding to the tower where Peto’s cell was, he spoke to the guard. The rolls, though effective at changing the shape of his face, made it difficult to enunciate clearly, slowing his speech. It served to change his cadence, however, which was helpful in making him seem a different person.

“I am to make a drawing of this man for the news sheets.” He raised his nose as if having contact with a criminal was the last thing he wanted, adding, “No need to open the door. I will look through the peephole.”

Simon had deduced communication between those who worked at the Tower and those who sent people there was imperfect at best. Unless an individual nobleman paid particular attention to a prisoner, days might pass without anyone taking notice of him. The guards, directed by the jailer, made their own decisions on day-to-day matters. To them Peto was simply a man who’d soon hang. Nobody cared who visited him, and nobody cared what the two of them said to each other. It would change nothing when the hangman got hold of him.

All over London, halfpenny news sheets offered the latest in news and the most scurrilous gossip, with drawings often included to add interest. For only the tiniest bribe, the guard accepted that Simon had been hired to add a picture of the notorious but mysterious Peto the Pope to one of them.

Led to the cell, Simon played his part, peering through the slot and then down at his slate, peering in again, then making corrections by rubbing out a line with the side of his hand. Chalk clicked and ground against slate, but it seemed the drawing did not go as he wanted. As the guard watched, he erased lines again and again, finally snorting with disgust and starting all over.

The guard became impatient. “Call me when you’ve finished, and I’ll escort you out.” The artist apparently listened with only half an ear, merely grunting in reply.

After the guard moved off, Peto approached the door. “For an honest man, Simon, you are wondrous crafty.” Seeing Simon up close, his eyes narrowed. “What happened to you?”

“I was attacked in Southwark.” He hurried to add, “Some revelers happened by, and the robber ran off.”

Even in the dimness of the cell’s interior, Simon could read in Peto’s expression the understanding there was more to the story than a botched robbery. “I did not intend this, Simon. Do not tempt the stars again.”

Simon pulled from his pocket a cloth-wrapped meat pie bought at a vendor’s stall and handed it over. “I want to help.

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