Gregory House - The Queen's Oranges

Ned gave a curse that had Tam raise an eyebrow in surprise, though he still tapped him on the shoulder and passed him the next reloaded pistol. Ned had to pause to drag in a deep breathe. He mustn’t let rage get the better of him. It was just as well that last shot had misfired. A dead Albrecht was of no use to him. In response his daemon of darkness made a very nasty suggestion. Quickly Ned checked the priming, took a step closer to the terrified Hanse trader and shoved the barrel into the fellow’s cod piece

“So Albrecht you’ve seen how well these beauties fire. Impressive isn’t it? Answer my questions truthfully and you save your manhood, lie and you’ll be pissing without a pizzle!”

“That’s if’n he lives. Saw a Frenchie once lost ‘is stones and pizzle ta a harquebus ball. Took a week fo’ ‘imta die. Black rot got ’im. Screamed he did ever’ day.” That cheery comment came from a grinning Tam who was happily recharging the second pistol, though he did pause for a second to give his own codpiece a friendly pat.

Well, thought Ned, grimly amused, Captaine Gryne’s men really were a fount of worldly knowledge. However the import of the mercenary’s tale got through the wall of shock and fear, and made it worse. Albrecht was sobbing and whimpering for mercy. “A few simple questions, Albrecht, my partner. The powder and weaponry-who’d you get them off?”

“Nein, nein… I can’t. Zey’llave me unze Tower…an hung before the week’z out!” That came out as series of panting gasps. Albrecht was having trouble balancing his priorities, one hand clapped over his shredded ear while the other tried to push his body away from the probing muzzle.

For Ned the initial response was intriguing. This was the second time he had heard the threat of the Tower used to keep contraband traders in line. That hinted at someone with high court connections. Well only one way to find out.

Ned squeezed the trigger. The pistol kicked back in his hand with a satisfying jerk. Albrecht gave the highest pitched screech that was possible, and forgetting his ear, grabbed his smoking cod piece with both hands. Ned had tilted the pistol at the last instant while staring into the merchant’s eye. The ball punched into the timber planking a bare fraction of an inch from the base of the codpiece, but the flash of discharged burning powder poured over the padded apparel setting parts of it alight. The speeding incandescent grains should leave quite an impression on sensitive organs

Tam Bourke winced in sympathy as he handed Ned the next reloaded weapon.

“That may be so, but only if you survive this morning. Talk!” For further emphasis Ned prodded the blackened cloth and once more stared the Hanse down.

Something in his eye broke the last reserve of the whimpering man and he screamed out. “Blackford!It waz Blackford. He sold me ze weapons!”

That was treason-got him! So many irregularities with the King’s stores seemed to track back to his office, including the missing Ben Robinson. “What about the powder, Albrecht?”

“That was Joachim’s share. MeinGott, I zwear upon my soul! He said a couple of schurke men, along ze river had the trade sewn up! Pleaze , it wasn’t me! I…ahh, meinGott, meinGott!”

That could have been the truth. Albrecht hadn’t panicked about the fire and that would have been expected if he knew about the twenty odd barrels and they were much better hidden than the weapons.

“What about Joachim, your friend?” With this question he gave Albrecht a particularly savage prod.

“I don’t know who killed him, meinGott. Pleaze! Maybe der ones from der docks zey were to deliver der powder! Ask them!” Possibly one more fragment of truth, according to Meg the death of Joachim and Pieter had been as much a shock to Albrecht as her.

“What of the impounding?”

The Hanse started to cry in sobbing gasps. Great tears dribbled down into his grey salted beard. “I had no choice. Zey forced me to it! MeinGottforgive me!”

The merchant was too distraught from pain and guilt to notice the steel edge to Ned’s gaze or the tension of his hand. Tam wasn’t. He knocked Ned’s arm as he squeezed the trigger, so that instead of blowing off Albrecht’s nearest and dearest, the ball ploughed through the meat of his outer thigh before lodging in the ship’s timbers.

“You miserable, befouling, villainous, little rat! Even the Moors wouldn’t stoop to such treachery. Meg held you as close as family and you repay that love and regard with black hearted deceit!” Ned pointed the pistol again and pulled the trigger. The wheel spun and sparked, and Albrecht screamed fit to wake the dead, but nothing else happened. The pistol had been discharged, and his in rage Ned had forgotten.

Tam gently levered the spent weapon from his hand. “Nay lad, don’t do it”

“What! Why not?”

“Well fo’ one, he ain’t answered yet.”

That rational response from Tam grounded Ned, and brought him back to the needs of the hour. He lent forward, one hand planted each side of the Hanse merchants head, and in voice cold and chilling hissed his question. “Who wanted this Albrecht?”

If the merchant had been able, he’d have clawed his way through the deck to get away. His shoulders burrowed into the unyielding timber. “It vaz Belsom! For der Lord Chancellor! It vaz that or der Lollard tower like Monmouth! PleazeMiesterBedvell, in Gottes name I’m nicht strong like them. I vaz afraid!”

Ned nodded as his teeth ground together. Yes, fear explained many desperate and cowardly acts. “Why Meg Black?”

“They vantedzum’one tied to die Lady!”

Ah yes, the Boleyn connection. Ned thought that might be part of it. The battles in the Privy Council and the annulment dispute, he should have seen the links earlier. “And what were you to get out of it?”

The well seemed to run dry. The Hanse clenched his trembling lips and looked away. A merciful man would have been content, but Ned wanted to know Albrecht’s thirty pieces of silver. Anyway mercy had left a long time ago. “Both pistols please Tam.”

At this suggestion the flow renewed in abundance. “Der Ruyter! Belsom and Welkin promised me der Ruyter and der Steelyards would be left alone!”

How typical for a merchant. Slighted love or revenge at least aimed towards noble sentiments, but no, all this was just for a bit more gold. He wondered what sort of guarantees Albrecht had accepted, if any. The juiciest part was the involvement of his two most favourite royal officials and working together! That was worthwhile news. But as for the powder, that was another matter.

“Why the weapons?”

“Zey forced me to go partners in ze cargo, said it vas part of ze arrangement! I had nien choice!”

That may be so, but why hide the weapons so poorly? “When?”

“Der Ruyter vaz to be taken at Limehouse when it sailed!”

That was a convenient site at one of the customs houses, and close to the city. Why all this trickery was another question. Ned dismissed that speculation-it was irrelevant. In the meantime, there were other tasks. “Albrecht, my friend, I must thank you for your assistance. I fear that our pleasant talk is concluded. However Tam here will continue to offer you the ship’s hospitality.”

Ned watched dispassionately as the weeping German was gagged, bound, shrouded in the sheet of canvas and then dragged off to some noisome corner of the hold. At the conclusion of this affair it would best for Albrecht’s health if he took a long sea journey, with a couple of boon companions to look to his needs. Ned’s daemon came up with a tempting suggestion. Hmm, perhaps Gruesome Roger and Tam felt like a change for a while.

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