A Love Most Dangerous (36 page)

'You're every bit as lovely as Crane claimed,' he
said. He unfastened his sword, dagger and purse, undid his belt and ran his
fingers along it.

'And he claims you're a hell-cat, he continued. 'That
you've no taste for pain and won't like what's coming to you.'

'You'll find out soon enough,' I answered.

He laughed and told me to strip off my clothes. I
stood naked in front of him, my face burning with shame. I felt like the most
lowly creature on earth, something to be despised and mistreated. I had brought
this on myself I thought, and the tears began to form.

But then my heart grew calmer and I gazed at the man
who was about to violate me. I thought why should I feel any shame? It is me
that is being abused, me that is being degraded. It is not me who should feel
shame but him.

'Very handsome,' he said. 'Very handsome indeed.'

He took off his doublet and pulled down his hose. He
wore only his under-shirt but that was not sufficient to hide his excitement at
the sight of me.

He picked up the belt and placed it carefully on the
bed.

'I'll break you little hell-cat,' he said, 'break you
with my belt. But first let's get a taste of you.

Then he lunged at me, forcing his lips onto mine and
his tongue into my mouth.

I needed no encouragement to fight back. I punched him
in the temple and pulled at his hair. He bit my tongue and pushed me on the
bed, throwing himself on top of me so that the air was punched out of my lungs.

I was up in an instant, scraping my nails down his
face and kneeing him in the belly.

He grabbed hold of my hand and slapped me hard on the
cheek. He plucked up his belt and slashed at me twice, across my breasts and
belly. Then he reached for my throat and began to squeeze it.

I gasped in terror and he laughed, still squeezing.
Finally, when I thought I might faint, he released me and kissed me again.

That's enough of fighting, I thought. Now to act like
he's tamed me.

His tongue slithered round my mouth like a filthy
earthworm but I pretended to groan with pleasure. He grunted with satisfaction
and raised his head to look into my eyes.

'You are a wonderful kisser,' Sir Edmund,' I said.
'Can you kiss as skilfully down below, I wonder. I'm told I taste sweeter than
honey.'

He grinned at that. 'A real gutter-whore,' he said.
Then he slipped down my body, his tongue licking my belly as he moved.

I opened my legs wide and pulled his head into my
crotch. His mouth went to work immediately, his tongue probing, his teeth
nipping. I opened my legs still wider and gave a groan which sounded like
pleasure and then squeezed my thighs together as though wishing to hold him
like this for all eternity.

Then I reached below the bed, grabbed hold of the
chamber pot and slammed it down on his head as hard as I was able. He gave a
gasp and slumped unconscious.

I wriggled out from under him and stared. He was out
to the world. But I thought I had best make sure and gave him an even harder
crack with the pot. He did not make a sound this time.

I leapt up and started to put on his clothes. They
were a little too big for me but I thought the belt would pull them tight
enough. I hesitated about the sword and dagger but then thought it best to wear
them in order to look the part. I pushed my hair into his hat and pulled it
down low over my forehead.

My fingers were shaking with fear as I pulled the
clothes around me. At the last moment I remembered his paunch and stuffed my
nightgown under his doublet. Then I saw his beard. He had a huge and very
noticeable beard. I would be found out as soon as I showed my face.

An idea flew into my head. I pulled the dagger from
its sheathe and began to saw at his beard. I managed to chop off about half of
it, enough for my purpose. I stuffed it into my mouth and pulled it low. It was
enough to cover my chin.

Then I slipped out the door.

I hurried down the corridor, ears cocked for any
sound. I paused at the top of the stairs and made certain that no one was on
them before tip-toeing down. At the bottom of the stairs was the dark corridor
which led to Crane's office and the alley way. I debated whether to go that way
or not. Crane's room was well illuminated and my disguise would not fool him.
But he was an old man and I should be able to outrun him. But if luck was
against me I would find some of my kidnappers with him and then it would all be
over for me.

I took a deep breath and headed for the door directly in
front of me. From the noise I could tell that it was packed and thought it was
probably a drinking room.

I pushed open the door and peered in. I was right, it
was a large chamber with tables and chairs and men drinking wildly while they
waited for the next available girl. It was ill-lit and gloomy. A large door was
propped half-open and I could see it led onto the street.

I took one step forward and froze on the threshold in
fear. Sitting by the bar was the pale man Thorne and another of my kidnappers. My
heart hammered so loud I thought it might be heard despite the din in the room.
But there was nothing for it, I had to get out. I saw that Thorne and his
friend were deep in talk and with any luck I would be able to creep past them
unseen.

I slipped across the room as casually as I could,
keeping my head down to attract no notice. But then, when I was two steps from
the door, Amy the little serving girl happened to see me and stepped close. I
was betrayed. She held out her hand, staring me full in the face. 'Good
evening, Sir Edmund,' she said.

I grunted as best I could and reached for the purse on
my belt, thrusting the first coin I found into her palm. Her hand clenched upon
it and she turned away, very swiftly.

I stepped through the door, out into the street and
headed in the direction of the river.

Within moments I was in a labyrinth of alley ways and
tiny courtyards. I hurried through them, taking a zig zag path. I was alarmed
at this for I feared I might get lost. But it would also help hide me should my
escape be found out.

And then I saw it. The Thames was right in front of me
and to my left stood London Bridge. The lights from the houses on the bridge
were burning bright, they looked normal and welcoming, a world away from the
nightmare I had just fled.

I crept onto the bridge, willing my feet not to race
too fast. I kept my head down as I walked under the decapitated heads oozing
from the spikes above me. Then I found myself in the middle of the crowded
thoroughfare with the fine old houses on either side.

I realised that I was chewing on Tint's beard in my
anxiety and shreds of it were falling out of my mouth. I forced myself to stop
chewing and pushed on for the northern side of the bridge. At last I reached
the bank and made for the only place I knew; Walter and Margery Scrump's home.
As I hurried along I thought once more of the treacherous Art and wondered what
I would do when I met him.

I turned into Offal Pudding Lane and headed to the
Scrump's house. I gasped aloud, dropping most of Tint's beard on the ground.
The house was boarded up, no sign of life at all.

And then I heard it. Footsteps hurrying after me and a
deep voice crying out to me, 'Stop thief.'

I looked behind and saw the kidnappers turning into
the lane.

Cunning swine, I thought. They would set up a hue and
cry, I'd be caught and unmasked as a thief. How else would a girl dressed in a
rich man's clothing and with his purse appear to the authorities? It meant
prison for me at the least and possibly the noose. No that would not happen.
Crane and his gang would make sure they got me in their clutches and took me
back to the brothel.

I turned and fled up the lane, nearly falling over the
sword as I did so. I turned into Eastcheap and almost collided with the first
person I saw. It was Betty Dibble, Art's old girl, the hard jealous Betty who
despised and hated me.

I grabbed hold of her hands. 'Betty's it's me,' I
said, desperately. 'Those men are chasing me. They kidnapped me and put me in a
brothel. I've just escaped but they'll catch me again. Please help me.'

She took one look at me and my heart almost stopped.
She'll betray me, I thought. She opened her mouth and let out a piercing
scream.

'Girls,' she cried. 'Help me, help me, help me.'

A moment later scores of women raced onto the streets,
looking about in alarm.

'They're after us,' Betty cried, pointing to the men
who had just raced round the corner. 'They're going to take us to the stews.
It's Alice Petherton and she's just escaped them.'

The women roared in dismay and raced towards us. Betty
darted forward, reached down for a stone and hurled it at the foremost man.

The rest of the women surrounded me, fists raised
high, yelling at the top of their voices.

The three men started forward, not fearing what they
saw as a pack of foolish women. It was the worst mistake possible. The women
surged forward and fell upon the men, punching and kicking, their voices high
in fury.

The men fell back, arms flailing, faces filled with
sudden terror. They turned and fled down Offal Pudding Lane with the women on
their heels, whooping curses and throwing punches as they chased after them.

'You all right?' Betty said as she returned to my
side.

I nodded, unable to speak.

'They'll be back,' said a familiar voice. It was Amy
Pepper, the barmaid of the Shambles. 'They'll be back in numbers and armed to
the teeth. We won't be able to fight them off a second time.'

'What will we do?' I asked, terrified.

'I'll send for my dad,' Amy said. 'He'll rouse up the
beast keepers.'

Pepper, I thought, Pepper. I knew that name from
somewhere but could not place it.

'Jenny,' she cried to a young girl. 'Get off to the
Tower and get my dad here with as many of the lads as he can. Tell him I sent
you and tell them to bring their nets and weapons.'

Jenny nodded and raced down the road.

'It's not far,' Amy said. 'They'll get here in time,
don't fret.'

She was wrong. We stood there for some time, wondering
what to do, whether I should be hidden or try to flee. Eventually we heard loud
cries and then the thunder of pounding feet. The women who had been pursuing
the kidnappers came pelting back around the corner. A score of men followed
behind them, all carrying cudgels and led by Thorne, the chief of the
kidnappers.

The rest of the women pressed around me, acting as a
shield.

'Now don't be foolish, ladies,' Thorne called. 'We're
only after our property. We're only after one of our whores.'

'You can't have her,' yelled Betty Dibble.

'But my master paid good money for her,' Thorne
answered. 'She belongs to him. And do you know who sold her?' He gave a shrill
and mirthless laugh. 'It was Art Scrump, the heart-throb of the gutters. Or at
least he was until yesterday.'

I frowned at this and Betty shook her head, not
understanding what he meant.

Thorne stepped forward, slapping his cudgel in his
hand as he did so.

'So girls,' he continued. 'Just be sensible and let me
have Alice Petherton. Unless, of course, you want to join her in my little
enterprise.'

'You get her over my dead body,' Betty Dibble cried.

'That can be arranged,' Thorne said in a mild tone.

The rest of the men laughed loudly and stepped towards
us.

Betty Dibble threw herself forward and punched Thorne
in the face, sending him sprawling on the ground. The rest of the men raced to
his aid, and two raised their clubs above her head. But in moments the rest of
the women had leapt forward and began to battle with the men.

The noise was tremendous and out of the corner of my
eye I could see men appear at doorways looking on in amazement. Most went back
inside and closed the doors but four butchers ducked into their shops and
returned wielding knives and choppers.

'We're with you, girls,' one cried.

They had only closed half he distance when a deep roar
came from behind them.

A dozen men with long poles and nets were racing down
the street, with young Jenny leading the way. The roar came from their angry
throats. But then a deeper roar sounded and four men raced through the crowd,
wielding poles attached to the collars of two raging lions. The women scattered
at the sight of them and then the lions were through and leaping on our
assailants. Two men fell immediately and then the lions lashed out at two more.

With a howl of fear our attackers fled from the scene.
One figure managed to get to his feet and look in horror at the lions. It was
Thorne, his face running blood. It was that which did for him. The lions
smelled the blood and leapt upon him. I heard the crunching of bone and Thorne
cried out in terror and pain.

The beast-keepers tried to pull the lions off but to
no avail. One lion bit upon Thorne's legs and the other on his head and then
began a tug of war with him. Thorne's arms thrashed in agony for a few moments
longer before he fell dead and the lions began to rip at this flesh.