The lass he addressed gave a slight giggle and took another step closer, now running her fingers down the fur collar of his over mantle. Ned returned a smile and trapped the wandering fingers giving them a light kiss.
“Oi Ned y’ rogue. So gallant these days an’ such fine clothes. Why haven’t y’ been to see me?”
Once more Ned politely seized a drifting hand before it deftly slipped into his doublet. Mistress Adeline made a small mew of regret and her dark eyes twinkled with mischief and calculation. Ned continued to smile.
He knew Adeline of old. She was a free ranging punk and had the manners and moods of the feline on her silver brooch. Adeline had an established reputation of being playful and moody, like her proclaimed symbol, with a strange reputation for games of chance…and pain.
He’d come across her last year in the outer Liberties by Temple Bar, where she was known to frequent a small gaming house at the Red Boar tavern. It was her long, raven black hair that had first drew his interest, soon followed by her sharply edged sense of capricious humour. Her full figure and open bodice no doubt helped engage his interest. She had the smoothest, palest skin and the reddest nipples, almost strawberries in shape and colour. However some instinct, prompted by his better angel, had sternly warned Ned not to step beyond the bounds of teasing dalliance. He suspected that any man drawn closer by her fascinating allure would find themselves as crisped as a moth by a candle flame. “I fear Adeline, I am a slave to duty. My master and my patron have had me running all over the city these past weeks, but all the while my heart has wept at your absence and my own soul is a withered flower in the desert, without your tender grace.”
Mistress Adeline fluttered her fingers coquettishly over her pale throat, and gave a most provocative sigh. Ned’s cods, in sheer rebellion, stirred alarmingly. “Oi Ned, my sweet, y’r still my dearest swain and y’r poetry sets my soul all a quiver.”
His daemon sounded the trumpet, while his better angel bade him stand firm against her wiles, warning not to trust any soft sighing flattery. “I fear beloved Adeline, that duty still forbids me from rendering unto you the devotion that you deserve.”
Those delightful fingers reached out and lightly stroked his face. Ned’s skin quivered at the feather-light touch. Adeline was a sore temptation to refuse. “Oi my poor Ned. What terrible task keeps y’ from my arms?”
“I’m searching for some one — a country lad lost in the city.”
“Oi, what a sorry duty, when we could be enjoying a private Christmas pageant.”
Ned kept up his smile and let out his own forlorn sigh. Whether it was for the reminder of what he was missing or the strong pull of Adeline the temptress, he wasn’t sure. His cods may have been certain but tonight they weren’t voting. “Dear Adeline, you haven’t seen any new lads in your daily travels?”
“I might have. I’ve bin so bored this past day. None have wanted to play with me. Will y’ play with me Ned?”
At the invitation his cods led a determined mutiny. There was a problem with indulging, well actually several. However the main one was, no matter how tempting or preferable, Adeline’s ‘games’ and ‘diversions’ weren’t something to dive into unprepared. Damn this duty of Cromwell’s! After a strong inner tussle, Ned regained his concentration. He shoved his whispering daemon aside and instead focused on the here and now. No Walter, no Christmas revels, then no extra angels to ‘play’ with Adeline.
Oh yes Adeline. There were some aspects of her answer that put him in mind of her previous ploys. Ned scented an evasion. Well he could at least play one game. Reaching into an inner hidden pocket in his doublet, Ned pulled out a single angel and trailed the coin down the line of her nose. Like a kitten and a piece of yarn, it held her single minded attention.
“Now Adeline,” Ned bent closer and whispered. “Who have we seen today? A new face flashing coin and skilled at Hazard?”
Adeline, her eyes glittering with deep interest, made a grab at the coin. Ned snatched it away and held it in a closed hand. At the lost prize her pout returned. “Could be I saw a young lad, lucky at dice by three angels at the Red Boar an hour ago.”
Her open hand teased him encouragingly. Ned, still smiling, shook his head. You never yielded to easily to Adeline. “This lucky lad, what did he look like?”
Adeline’s soft warm cheek rubbed the back of his hand and Ned’s knees trembled. “Oi ‘e was slight and wore fine black like Satan’s imps and had butter coloured hair, lank and dull.”
Ned held tight to the coin and his urges, a little bit more teasingly. “What colour were his eyes, my beloved?’
“They was grey, grey and bulging eyes, like a dead fish. I didn’t like ‘im. They didn’t glow with the light o’ love, such as y’rs, Ned.”
Got him! Ned released the coin and spun it high in the air. Before it had completed its arc, slim fingers snatched it and she darted away. “My thanks my love, it’ll be a cheery Christmas.”
It may be so with that reward. Ned knew Adeline led a strange, precarious existence, what with her games and pleasures. But it was Christmas and, in her fashion, she was an unpredictable if loyal friend. Concern stirred his better angel. “Where are you going this night, Adeline?”
With very feline grace, she spun around and called out. “A gentleman in Caesar’s Tower ‘as called for me.”
Ned shivered at the mention. The city fortress sometimes had a chancy reputation for well kept secrets. He hoped that Adeline remembered discretion. “If you have any problems, you can find me at the Sign of the Spread Eagle in Wood Street till Twelfth Night. Ask for Tam and use my name.”
Her hair fluttered as she skipped down the street, her dress held high, revealing a very nice pair of legs. Briefly she turned, blew him a kiss and laughed. Ned slumped against the wall and exhaled a bent up breath. Thank the saints she’d left. That girl made Meg Black look as predicable as the tides. Adeline was definitely an acquired taste, and an expensive one.
As Ned mopped his brow, a frowning Mistress Black exited from the Goat’s Head tavern. As expected she didn’t look happy. Pre-empting her scolding, he abruptly turned and walked off.
“Ned Bedwell, where do you think you’re going?”
Ned gave an insolent flick of his fingers. “Why, to find Walter of course.”
“But we have three more places on my list to check.”
“Ignore them,” he called back, heading off tauntingly.
“What? Why should I do that?” By the tone of her voice, Meg Black was puzzled by his behaviour.
That contributed to his gloating satisfaction. “Because, Mistress Black, I know where he is.”
Whether she fumed and stamped her foot, Ned didn’t turn to see, but a moment later her clearly angry footsteps paced close behind him. Excellent, now for a change, he was in charge.
***
Chapter Eight: The Devil’s Delights
The crossing of London from Petty Wales to the eastern Liberties, past the Fleete stream, was not a pleasant jaunt, and for Ned, this was his second time in one day. Another flurry of snow added to the mounded banks of frozen slush in the streets and made the walk bitterly cold. As Ned had observed just yesterday from the cheery interior warmth of the revels room, the white blanket did soften the outlines of the roofs, while at the same time hiding the ruts, potholes and broken cobbles of the city roads. Once more he was quietly cursing, stumbling over another concealed obstruction, though this time he kept his balance. A tumble before Gruesome Roger was one thing, but in front of his still fuming mistress…ahh no. Ned had seized the leadership of this little band due to a single clue, and any slip up on his part would see Meg Black once more taking control. He’d no desire to go traipsing through her idea of his supposed haunts.