White Seed by Paul Clayton

Author:Paul Clayton [Clayton, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2009-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

March 13, 1589. England

John White walked the narrow streets of Cripplegate. The month before, he had gone to see the cunning man called John Simon. Simon had been recommended by several respectable gentlemen as one who cast astrological charts with great accuracy and truth. White wondered what the intense, little man would have to say to him today regarding his future. He needed good news. The day before, White had returned from visiting Raleigh’s Durham House for a meeting with the Company of the City of Raleigh. Businessmen all, they talked of everything but ships. When White had inquired about Raleigh, one man had told him the great gentleman had gone off to the Orinoco River to find a golden city. Another merchant told him that Raleigh had returned to his estate in Ireland so that he could work on polishing his verse -- in order to win a lady!

White passed the usual assortment of humanity, groups of boy apprentices, servants and yeomanry on their errands in the narrow streets. A loud rumble came from behind. Then a voice called out, “Comin’ up! Make way!” White turned. A huge dray cart pulled by a pair of geldings lumbered up the cobblestone street behind him. The cart took up the entire width of the street and he and others were forced to duck into doorways to let the thing pass or risk losing their toes to its ironclad wheels. The cart passed and White resumed his walk, coming up behind a common woman with a head of red hair. She was slightly built, like Maggie. Intrigued, he quickened his pace to get a glimpse of her. She turned and he recoiled slightly in shock. The woman was deformed, a cleft palate marring her face. He turned away as the beginning of a smile formed on her face and hurried on. Finally he came to the gate marked with two 2’s, and went in.

Inside, the garden was in bloom with plants and herbs he did not know. A spray of red and pink gillyflowers here and there delighted the eye. White knocked on the door of the house. He thought he heard a call from within, but when he tried the door he found it barred. He waited, turning again to admire the flowers.

The door opened and John Simon’s grim face looked out at him. Simon beckoned him in and indicated a chair. The study was in the same state of disarray as the last time White had been here, pooled remnants of candles on the desk and tables, books stacked on chairs, papers littering the floor. As White sat he became aware of a vague smell in the dark chamber. Then the door to the adjoining chamber opened and a lady exited. Her face had a color and sheen to it that immediately suggested to White that she and Simon had just lain together. She nodded demurely to Simon and walked to the door, letting herself out.

Simon sat down across from White and lit a thick tallow candle and unrolled a scroll of paper.

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