The Traitor of St. Giles Read Online Free Page B

great white bow-wave, was a small ship, a galley-type, moving speedily towards them. ‘What is it?’ Gilbert asked.
    ‘It’s that whoreson Badlesmere, I’ll bet. Whoever it is, they mean to catch us – board us or ram us.’
    The vessel was closing fast now, and instinctively Sir Gilbert pulled the chest up to his lap, cradling it protectively as he might a child. When he next looked over his shoulder their pursuer was scant yards away.
    An order was grunted. Without warning the sailor and his mate behind him lifted their oars from the water; the other men on the opposite side hauled. Sir Gilbert was no expert seaman and he was thrown bodily to one side, almost losing his grip on the box, while one dog yelped in alarm, ears flat back in fear, and the other stood scrabbling on the slippery wood trying to remain upright. The boat lurched once, then again, and there was a loud crack as the ship struck their side, knocking him from his seat.
    A man sprang down, axe in hand. Sir Gilbert was on his back in the bilgewater and could only stare up in horror. He saw the axe swing and embed itself in the head of one of his guards: the man shrieked. A kick sent him overboard as a second boarder leapt down. The first pirate made a hideous gargling sound deep in his throat and Sir Gilbert saw him clutch at his neck even as a warm, fine spray settled on his face. Then he saw the knife’s hilt showing. All at once the pock-marked sailor was up. He grabbed his dagger from the one, shoved, and in an instant both boarders were over the side.
    ‘What . . .?’ Sir Gilbert managed, clambering to his seat and gazing about him in the murky light.
    ‘They tried to overhaul us; we slipped aside before they could ram us,’ the sailor grunted, once more at his oar. ‘They’ll need to tack to come back at us. Can’t do that in a hurry, so they’ll try to land some men to catch us as we moor. We’ll just have to beat them to it.’
    They ran the boat scraping up a shallow ramp and one of the crew waded to land and held the boat while the others helped Sir Gilbert out. There was no need to help the dogs: Aylmer jumped quickly from the boat and hared to the top of the ramp away from the water, while Merry stepped lightly onto land and stood there sniffing at a wall.
    ‘Wait here,’ said the sailor and darted silently across the yard to a gate in the encircling wooden fence. Soon he was back, the knife in his hand shining in the light of the torches. ‘It’s safe enough.’
    Sir Gilbert glanced at his remaining guard, who hefted the chest. The sailor glanced at it, his face twisting with sympathetic amusement. It was the same expression that Sir Gilbert had seen other sailors wearing as they watched lubbers clumsily moving about the ship.
    ‘What?’ he demanded sharply.
    ‘You’re in London, Sir Gilbert. You may be on the Surrey and Kent side, but this is still London, where sluts, cutpurses, horsethieves and footpads mingle. What are you going to do? Walk up to an inn, bold as a cock, and ask for a horse, holding your little box at your shoulder?’
    ‘No one would dare attack me with my dogs here,’ Sir Gilbert said coldly, but the man had a point. Sir Gilbert hadn’t expected to be put ashore here, he’d been hoping to be further upriver, nearer the London Bridge. Instead, here he was, with a long walk ahead of him and no horse or carriage. And only one guard, not two.
    The sailor saw his expression and shook his head. Turning, he issued instructions to the other men before walking ahead to the gate again, beckoning to Sir Gilbert.
    ‘What is this?’ Sir Gilbert demanded.
    ‘You need help to cross London. This is a seaman’s land, not fit for a country knight.’
    ‘We can protect ourselves.’
    The sailor watched him tap his sword. ‘You think so? While protecting the box?’
    Sir Gilbert considered.
    ‘Come, Sir Knight. I’ll join you. You can be certain that I won’t betray my Lord Despenser, not while he wins me