Gregory House - The Queen's Oranges

“No. Albrecht is trying to engage one off another Hanse vessel in port, but if that falls through he has offered to do it himself.”

Ned held very still, apparently reviewing a list of cutler’s goods. The Hanse merchant just shot up to the top of the list of suspects. So much for friendship. He’d put a hundred angels on Albrecht being unable to find a replacement shipmaster. After all someone had to finish the deal with the contraband and Master Hagan was the one man left who could possibly have sufficient knowledge.

Ned suddenly felt very jittery. How long before the Hanse merchant found out about the results of Rob’s search? Due to the repair work a look in the hold was impossible, and from what he remembered, Albrecht had been back at the Steelyard all today. Damn, he couldn’t sort this complication out with her here. Meg Black was suspicious enough already. Then his daemon conveniently reminded him of his latest problem. Oh yes, the perfect distraction. “Ahh Meg, to add to our burdens, we’ve just been given another.”

All that received was the briefest flicker of an inquisitive eyebrow. It appeared the discussion over leadership was still held against him. Ned frowned and cleared his throat in the accusative silence. “Umm. I ran into an old acquaintance of ours, Skelton.”

Meg gasped and dropped her pile of papers and ledgers. It was secretly satisfying to see her response.

Ned felt a brief measure of satisfaction. “Master Skelton requests that we find another friend from last year, Don Juan Sebastian de Alva.”

Now that revelation really got her interest. Mistress Black paled at the news and stammered out a question. “How…why?”

Ahh, a much better reaction.Though he did note that the blanched look of her cheeks nicely set off the colour of her eyes.Hmm, very attractively. “If we find Don Juan Sebastian before Sunday then Skelton’s good lord will shield us from the Lord Chancellor.”

Margaret Black recovered sufficient composure to look extremely sceptical regarding the offer. “Ned, you accepted?”

Her question held more than a hint of incredulity in the tone, much more than Ned thought appropriate. “Do I look like that much of a village idiot?”

From her considering glower, that was exactly what she thought. Another implied insult like that and he’d almost be tempted to leave the dratted Margaret Black to her well deserved fate. “I didn’t have much choice. Skelton had dozen men at his back and at least for this week Norfolk rules the Privy Council, so it may please him to frustrate More.”

“And how do you think the Spaniard will be magicked forth when for the last six months Gryne hasn’t found him?”

Ned bridled at the overlay of sneer and casually threw out his answer as if it were a coin to beggar. “Ahh yes, but I have.”

“What! I don’t believe you, Red Ned Bedwell. If that had happened, you’d be crowing from the tower of St Paul’s and plotting your revenge.”

That slur was completely undeserved. Ned was no one’s fool. He’d have had the haughty foreign weasel beaten to a pulp first before celebrating. “Well Mistress, better than thou , Black, if you hadn’t been so keen on your venison pies and chat at Richmond Palace, then I might have told you I’d seen him there!”

Ned’s angel of conscience made a quivering complaint at this gross distortion of the facts, to no avail, for then the discussion of differences evolved into a full throated argument as both stood toe to toe, loud in their conviction.

It would have been a brave man who interrupted and as it happened it was. Gruesome Roger simply slammed the door open, startling the storm within to a sudden and precipitous halt. Ned probably wouldn’t admit it, but he for one was glad of the interruption. The situation in the shipmaster’s cabin was becoming a touch dangerous. Meg Black had already smashed a few items, believing that the use of missiles added weight to her views. The only piece left was a hooked pole wedged in the corner and he preferred not having to dodge any wielded implements, as a retreat from the room could be too easily be read as signifying his defeat and disgrace.

***

Ned spent the next half an hour trying to maintain a dignified calm as Gruesome Roger presented his report. The Black retainer had succeeded in his mission to track down and contact the illicit powder merchant of Southwark. The fellow had a building on the river by the stream next to Morgan’s Lane on the eastern edge of the Liberties. The edgy tension from the argument in the cabin lingered and had frequently led Roger to look questioningly towards his mistress at every pause, an action that inched Ned’s temper towards the breaking point. He held it by the merest fingernail as he gave a curt reminder that the missing Ben Robinson was his responsibility, while Mistress Black was only assisting her brother and him as duty commanded. Roger’s lip curled in that familiar Bedwell-directed sneer, while his mistress gave forth one of her disdainful snorts. Which for the sake of cooperation Ned pretended not to hear.

At the conclusion, Ned had stood his ground and been very emphatic on the allocation of tasks. Rob was to be in charge of the ‘Orange Watch’, as the guard over the Stafford women was dubbed. Meg had once more bristled at his claim of leadership and protested that the post was hers. Ned felt he’d surpassed himself in restraint and decorum by merely mentioning that she was still required to act the merchant’s heiress in this deception. The plain fact was not taken as well as it could have been. Mistress ‘I’ll do what I want’ Black made an attempt to foist her duty on to Emma. This was until Ned, completely without smirking, pointed out that the good alewife was already engaged in another task, as well as assisting Rob.

As a consequence of the still simmering dispute, it took over an hour to organise their departure. To Ned’s disappointment and frustration, Albrecht was left in command of the vessel. There was no choice. Rob had to leave to meet up with Emma over at Milford Lane, where their survival depended on charting the course of the oranges. If Albrecht was indeed implicated, then they had just given him a two or so hour window to hide whatever he wanted. Ned had a very quiet word with Tam Bourke to keep a close eye on the Hanse and make sure he was never alone, but apart from that, all he could do was pray that providence still favoured them.

After all the chaos and angst, the crossing to Southwark went smoothly once they secured three large cargo wherries, far more than they needed but it was necessary to look like they meant to purchase the powder.

According to Gruesome Roger, the sometime powder merchant was in a large warehouse on the waterfront, two buildings west of the stream by Morgan’s Lane. Roger had left one of Gryne’s men at the dock as look out, while he’d spread the rest of the mercenaries around the cluster of buildings. According to Meg’s retainer, Gryne had put twenty more men at their service, easily summoned by a horn blast. Ned sincerely hoped it would be enough.

They strode into the warehouse in all the strutting style of the merchant lords of the city. Meg Black had temporarily put aside their rancorous dispute to once more play the imperious heiress. His daemon wryly remarked that it was a part she did very well. One glance at the proud tilt of her nose and you’d never know she ground her own poultices and mucked out the workroom. There had been a brief but spirited debate over improving her appearance with more jewellery and her very best French hood, but Ned had pushed that aside with the valid claim of lack of time. It had almost earned him that avoided clout from the earlier discussion.