Read Online Blood Lance by Jeri Westerson - Free Book Online Page A

them.”
    “Thought you did. What is all the talk of them for?”
    “I’m uncertain. I know that the chancellor has been responsible for raising taxes and de Vere for … well. For being a burden on the royal income. They are favorites of the king and as favorites, not well liked.”
    “Well, the talk out there is rough, sir. Talk of hanging, even.”
    “As much as I would like to gloat, there is much to concern me.”
    “Why? These men are nothing but favorites to the king, pushing in where they don’t belong, receiving rewards they don’t deserve. No wonder the people are unhappy.”
    Jack had obviously absorbed the talk that Crispin and Gilbert Langton often shared while dousing their sorrows at Gilbert’s tavern, the Boar’s Tusk. It gave him the idea that perhaps he should go there to get more of the news. As good an excuse as any. He scooted to the edge of the bed again. But Jack aimed the poker at him.
    “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “I am going to the Boar’s Tusk.”
    “It’s mad out there.”
    “I cannot sit here idly while this is going on. I must know more news. With Lancaster out of the country we are in great peril.”
    “Blind me,” Jack muttered, lowering the iron.
    Crispin donned his boots again and strode toward the door. “Come along, Jack.”
    When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Crispin measured the crowd. The king’s horsemen were trying to disperse them, but the lane was so narrow it was difficult to move that many people out of the way. Crispin grabbed Jack’s cloak and they allowed themselves to be swept toward East Cheap and when they reached Gutter Lane, they took to the left, stumbling away from the melee. Crispin watched the men pass for a moment before he turned away and headed up the lane to the square building with the ale stake leaning into the street. A curled boar’s tusk hung from a rickety sign, and by that as well as the ale stake passersby knew that the Boar’s Tusk was open for business.
    They entered the dark interior full of smoky smells and spilled stale beer. Crispin moved quickly to his favorite spot—back to the wall, eyes on the door—and waited for Gilbert or his wife Eleanor to bring a jug of wine.
    It was Gilbert with the jug, and he hurried over, no doubt anxious to exchange news with Crispin.
    “Greetings, Gilbert.”
    He set the jug and bowls down, pouring wine into each of them. Crispin noticed—and so did a sour-looking Jack—that Gilbert still refused to bring a bowl for the apprentice. “How you managed to get here in one piece, I’ll never know,” said Gilbert, wiping the sweat from his wide brow. He took a quaff and set the bowl down, leaning in earnestly. “I was hoping you’d come.”
    “Jack tells me the barons are restless.”
    “Aye, that they are. I have it from a steward who frequents the Tusk, that thirteen lords have been appointed as a special council.” Crispin sat up at that. This was indeed serious. Michael de la Pole, Suffolk, though loyal to the duke of Lancaster, was swiftly becoming a liability at court. He, like Richard himself, would seldom take the advice of his colleagues. Did he think that having the ear of the king was enough? Why was history so easily forgotten at court? The place where history was made.
    “They have just arrived in London,” Gilbert went on. “And riding in on the news that the king does not expect an invasion. Well. I do not know what to think of that. Was it all a ruse to redirect our attention away from his own troubles?”
    “I think if the French did not strike when Lancaster’s army was well away to Spain earlier in the year, they had not the funds or the vitality to do so. I think the king is correct in this, yet it does serve as a good distraction.”
    A swell of noise rushed just outside the doors of the Boar’s Tusk, and the men in the tavern lifted their heads momentarily before it passed on again to another street.
    “Although not distracting