Flaunty Phil nudged one of the non-descript loungers on a nearby bench who slouched off, heading for the stairs leading to the upper storey. In the meantime Flaunty Phil hunched over in a conspiratorial manner and put a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Delphina, friend Will, is a pearl amongst the punks of the city, a rare beauty whom even engaged the interest of that known courtly lecher, Sir Francis Bryan. In fact that most famous ‘codsman’ trained Delphina in all the lewdest arts from Paris and Rome that can please a man for hours.”
Ned nodded, not so much salivating in anticipation, but at least trying to look as if he were. “Really, by Christ’s bones um, um that’s the kind of fire I’s want ta quench!”
Then as if his own keenness was suddenly damped Ned hesitated and looked guiltily around clutching at his purse. “Is, is, is she pricy?” Ned managed to squeak out this question nervously. It was a slight problem that by this point his daemon had lost track of the ‘plot’ and was giving him an imagined review of the delights of fair Delphina.
Flaunty Phil’s smile twitched at the impulsive movement and his eyes noted the apparently bulging purse with solicitous interest. “Nay lad. Since it is the days of Christmas, and for mine own countryman, I’ll arrange for her to see yea as a favour to me, an it’ll not even cost yea a bent groat.”
“Why Phil, yer a boon, a boon friend!” Ned slurred that slightly and made a clumsy grasp at Phil’s arm.
The cozener’s smile flickered into a flashing grin of predatory triumph, and as if on cue Phil raised his arm and pointed to the stairs. “Ere she is, beauty enthroned!”
Thus Ned’s head was jerked around by the ringing summons to behold the entrance of Delphina. A chorus of sighs and whimpers accompanied her stately steps down the stairs, and the vision in a long red dress and matching fiery hair drifted over to their bench. Her sweet tones tickled every fibre in his body sending a jolt to his previously ignored cods. “Master Flydman, ye called me fo’ to see to this fine gentleman?”
Ned didn’t have to simulate a befuddled gulp, nor did his daemon. Now just as his better angel warned, this part of the plan was going to need some very careful footwork.
Chapter Six. The Delights of Delphina
On his last visit to The Wool’s Fleece Ned hadn’t made it up the stairs, having been easily stripped of assets in the common room below. This time though, being lead up the treads by Delphina’s warm and delicate hand, it was as if he were transported to the realm of the gods and goddesses climbing the path towards blessed Olympus. His angel waspishly chided his classical allusions and at the same time sharply reminded him to concentrate on the stern duty ahead. If only it was so easy. Apart from a cascading flow of red gold hair, Delphina possessed a pair of entrancing light emerald eyes that sparkled deeply of her promise in the bed chamber. Even her softly sharp lavender scent tickled his nose setting off alarming conniptions in his cod piece. His wicked daemon, spurred more by lust than reason was in the saddle and it exulted at the wonderful opportunity this presented. To be rewarded for rescuing Richard Reedman and enjoy an hour or so of Delphina’s delights-how lucky could a lad be at Christmas?
Almost in a daze no doubt attributed to that doubly strong brandywine, Ned reached the top of the first flight of stairs and the delicious Delphina drew him along the half lit corridor with a ready teasing smile. Halfway along on the left lounged an ill favoured rogue, cudgel thrust in his ample belt. It seemed to Ned that this ‘Fleecers’ close set beady eyes watched his passage with a leery, knowing smirk of anticipation and whatever the allure of Delphina’s charms that sight served as a splash of ice water to his overcharged condition. Ned gave the watcher a dopey nod as if to a fellow engager in the carnal pleasures of the Wool’s Fleece. His better angel noted the slide bar of an outer timber door latch by the fellow’s hand. At first sight it seemed the only one and therefore a rather odd arrangement. Most rooms in taverns possessed the lightest of inside latches to at least give a semblance of security against the intrusion of common rogues and thieves. But to have one outside, well, that was a little different. There were rumours that some foully reputed stews over Southwark way weren’t that opposed to the seizing of girls newly come to the city for, ahem, ‘training’ as punks. While Ned wasn’t naive enough to tut tut or to swear an oath as a Christian that such scandalous practices were limited to the heathen Turk, to his Liberties tuned ear that practice was possible, but probably uncommon. Here a barred and guarded door strongly spoke of similar nefarious uses-secreting a reluctant guest mayhap?
This bout of speculation regarding room assignments took barely a moment in Ned’s passage to promised delights. Whether his guide Delphina dipped a head or fluttered eyelashes at the guard he couldn’t tell, lost as he was in her scent and the alluring sight of smooth, creamy skin at neck and shoulder. With practiced ease Delphina pushed open a door and in the manner of one receiving a lordly guest, curtsied him in.
Ned didn’t need to fain surprise. His mouth gaped open quite naturally. The room of promised delights was indeed quite a transformation from the rough and common space below. The walls where covered in panels of painted canvas, each one depicting in a classical manner a number of most lascivious scenes between, ah well, shepherds and shepherdesses. For purely ascetic reasons Ned tilted his head sideways to gain a fuller appreciation of one particularly scene involving several cavorting participants in a variety of positions. The painter had an excellent eye for detail and Ned’s daemon wondered if the fellow could supply a list of the female models and their ‘places of engagement’. But for all its opulent and distracting scenery the main difference between this bedchamber and that of any other discerning punk was the structure sitting in the centre of the space.
In Ned’s experience most ‘bed chambers’ contained a bed of some varying quality, at the lowest end a rough pallet stuffed with straw, while in houses of quality the bed often was an enormous structure several feet tall with a canopy and curtains of richly worked cloth. Here they’d taken classical allusions to a new level. There wasn’t a bed at all. Instead the room contained a large open bath full of steaming water. By the saints a real Roman bath! Ned’s ‘scholarly’ interest stirred. He’d read enough Roman writers including the much passed around and dog eared Metamorphoses of Apuleius or as St Augustine sneeringly referred to it as Asinus Aureus, The Golden Ass. It certainly helped a young scholar gain a new and different insight to the manners of the antique Romans and many of his fellow scholars at the university had ‘discussed’ the many intriguing and diverting uses of a roman bath for um, oh yes for ‘philosophical debate’. He also knew of several houses of lewdness that claimed to specialise in ‘bathing’ though as yet he’d not had the chance to ‘wash’. This rescue was looking better and better, a real Christmas treat! Somewhat pleasantly startled Ned allowed himself to be led towards the bath.
He’d have expected the room to be rather chill but a decent fire blazed in the nearby hearth over which was suspended a steaming caldron, no doubt for recharging the bath. Delphina gave him a smile full of the promise of seduction and began to help unbuckle his belt and doublet. As if struck by a fit of mortified embarrassment Ned clutched at his cod piece. “Ahh nay Mistress. Could yea please latch the doors. I’ve a mortal fear of chills and agues.”
As if this was the most natural request Delphina shrugged with a slight moue of those pouting lips and drifted easily to the door. The latch locked with a satisfying click and Ned breathed a sigh of relief. The punk swung gracefully around and loosening the ties of her kirtle slipped her dress off those alabaster white shoulders exposing the tops of her rounded breasts. For what seemed like an eternity Ned was struck as mute as any beast in the field, though his daemon may have given a small whimper before fainting. The sight before him blanked out all thought and speculation. His angel may have tried to remind him of his friend Rob alone in the Fleece common room prey to all manner of cosenage but Ned was deaf to appeals of duty not to mention any and all details of the plan. Delphina’s pale skin was as smooth as silken velvet and just as beautiful as he’d imagined.