However the events of last night still held his thoughts in thrall, such as the manner of young Walter’s discovery at the Black Goat. According to Roger that room upstairs was packed with unclad girls all cavorting with the innocent lamb. Thus in one blow the tally of Walter’s codsmanship, stood at four or five, or even six. Well thankfully that evidence dismissed his prior suspicion of a prenuptial contract between Meg and Walter, so some good news after all.
Ned was about to head off when he heard a chorus of piteous cries. He stopped for a moment to locate the source and then he remembered where he was. That had to be the inmates of the Bread Street Compter. It was the common ward gaol, where debtors and law breakers were lodged. Those that could, begged through the barred windows. One wheedling voice in the cracked melody however sounded gratingly familiar. Ned’s eyes narrowed in concentration. Perhaps, perhaps Lady Fortuna had favoured him? Cautiously he edged along the wall closer to the gaol. Oh yes he recognised that voice! It was his dear friend and errant charge, Walter. Ned smiled.
He sat at the bench of the small ale house around the corner from the Compter and sipped the thin ale. Not what he was used to, but at least it was drinkable. With the most feral of grins, he studied the letters before him. It had been a simple task to acquire one of the street urchins to act as a messenger and fetcher for young Dellingham. Running errands for prisoners was how they earned their keep. It had been easy to supply paper, quill and ink from his own clerk’s satchel and have the finished correspondence returned to him. Walter had been a very, very busy young lad. For a simple fellow from Shropshire, he knew a fair number of merchants and goldsmiths, and if the requests were anything to go by, the meek and mild reformer had stashed away quite a sum. Seven pounds was not the kind of coin that jingled loose in the purse. His spree had been meticulously planned and the cajoling/blackmailing rescue letter to his ‘long time friend’ Earless Nick revealed more than was prudent to put on paper. Now it was just a matter of Ned taking advantage of this golden opportunity, but first to make a few preparations of his own…
***
Chapter Fourteen: Compter Caught
Ned had put on his best arrogant air as he sat in the Warder’s chamber of the Bread Street Compter. Rob stood behind him playing the role of imposing retainer. His size helped if not his good natured appearance. Tam Bourke would have been perfect for this task. However Ned needed someone who’s usual reaction to a delicate problem wasn’t to thump it until subdued. Anyway even the drunkest of his fellow Christmas revellers respected the ‘protection’ that Tam represented.
After some delay Warder Locksley shuffled into the room and plunked himself into a handy chair, sighing with the effort. Ned gave him a rapid inspection. The official was maybe five foot odd tall, had a portly appearance and short grey beard. His doublet and gown were of a decent quality cloth and cut, while his podgy fingers displayed a love of gold rings and ostentation. At a guess the warder extracted a goodly share of fees and gifts from his charges. Well Ned could work with that.
The Warder huffed a bit, unfolded a small letter and peered at it frowning. “So Master Bedwell, how can I be of service to Councillor Cromwell?”
Ned had found it convenient on more than one occasion to employ the name of his patron for smoother transactions. “My master requests that young Dellingham be released to my custody. It is a matter of concern to the Privy Council that he’s being unlawfully restrained here.”
The Warder puffed out his cheeks and tut-tutted as he pulled out a pile of what looked like writs. “I fear Master Bedwell, his detention at the Compter is entirely legal, as these will show.”
Ned picked them up and gave their contents a quick perusal. He bit his lip. Oh yes, they were undoubtedly legal. Despite the occasional wandering script, each was signed by justice of the peace. The names of the officials however gave him concern. In these dozen sheets you had as fine a selection of venial and corrupt Londoners as you could find. Ned didn’t have the luxury of playing the Courts so this had to be settled quickly and quietly. “I see, Warder Locksley. Hmm, Councillor Cromwell would prefer if this was dealt without fuss.”
Ned removed his leather glove and slipped off a gold ring set with a small amethyst and placed it on the table. Warder Locksley’s eye’s sparkled with interest as he picked up the ring and closely examined it. Ned, in the meantime, kept up his play of arrogant disdain, though inside he was cursing fiercely. That ring had been his one true extravagance with the reward of the Cardinals’ Angels. It hurt to let it go as a bribe for worthless Walter. The ring disappeared inside the Warder’s gown and a rumbling cough announced a resolution. “I understand the Councillor’s concern and it would be my pleasure sort out these, ahh…errors.”
At this concession, Ned returned the slightest nod.
“However I have another difficulty Master Bedwell.” The warder immediately produced yet a further sheaf of papers and began o read through them. “Young Master Dellingham also has a number of debts. This one is for three angels to Nick Throckmore at Tower Royal of St Paul’s yard. Another bill here charges a debt of ten shillings to the taverner of the Red Boar.”
The warder then plunked them in front of Ned. “Then these. Well it’d be quicker to tell you the total — three pounds, two shilling and eight pence. He is also charged with affray by the parish constable whom he assaulted. And of course his debt here so far is five shillings and four pence since he’s been our charge.”
Ned wearily rubbed his face. Walter had been a busy lost lamb. No, his splurge went way past busy, frantic was a better description. Thus Ned’s conviction of being led into an elaborate cony trap hardened into a granite certainty. “That, Warder Locksley, is simply sorted out.” Ned flicked his finger over his shoulder and Rob stepped forward, and opening a leather satchel, spilled out a spray of coins onto the table.
The warder’s eye glowed and he returned a very ingratiating smile. “I can see, Master Bedwell, that you can be very persuasive.”
Ned kept a tight rein on his brewing anger and nodded politely in reply. Walter had better be worth all this damned trouble and expense. Or else.
Ned waited impatiently for the shambling warder to sort through his keys and unlock the last door. Locksley had correctly scented opportunity in the Dellingham lad and put him in private, shared cell rather than one of the larger rooms with the common lawbreakers and debtors. It had been a very well rewarded chance. Ned winced at how much he’d borrowed from his company of Christmas revellers — ruin wasn’t even a step away. The first part of his plan had succeeded. Now it depended on others to fulfil their parts. He’d sent out a flurry of messages all over the city, aimed at the unpredictable Meg Black, imploring her to delay Lady Dellingham’s progress. Rob’s postscript may help but he couldn’t depend on it. In the meantime he detailed his friend to keep a watch on the front of the goal. As for Warder Locksley, trust and chance only went so far.