The year is 1575 sitting in the office of Sir Francis Walsingham sit 2 women of vastly differing backgrounds. Sir Francis Walsingham was appointed as Secretary of State and chief spymaster ofEngland in 1573 by Queen Elizabeth I. These 2 women are his prize assets both gaining information and documentation that have helped save the country and its queen from plots formulated in Rome and Spain. Both women have a grudging respect for each others talents, but would never admit this to each other or others
The first high born Lady Arebella De Syn, Duchess of Bedford, she retained this title after the slightly suspicious death of her 67 year old husband. The Duke and Lady Arabella had been married by “arrangement”details of this arrangement is a mystery to all apart from Arebella.
Lady Arabella runs the Cardinals hat a trugging house in Southwark, this is in fact a front for a network of thieves and cut throats that work for Walsingham. She is also closely aligned with Dr John Dee a Welsh Mathematician astronomer astrologer and much more, but more of him later.
The second is May (Maisie) O’Brien her former years are a mystery and held deeply within her, but at the age of 12 she was found wandering the streets around the Tower of London by a kindly Irishwoman Rosie O’Brien, who worked as house keeper for a physician, the physician had seen some thing in this urchin and taught her to read and right and a basic understanding of arithmetic. At the age of 16 the physician died forcing Rosie and May on to the streets. While living on their wits May found she had an aptitude for slight of hand, the ability to relieve gentlemen of their valuables and to relieve unwitting persons of their cash and goods by the manipulation of cards.
Next we make kiera scullery maid to Sir Francis
I was hoping that Kiera would manage my assets whilst I'm abroad on my nefarious assignments for our Secretary of State. The pay, hours and conditions are just slightly better than being a common serving wench.
It's a moonless and godless night amid the foetid stews of Southwark. A cloaked and cowled figure glides through the filth and detritus underfoot and climbs a rickety stairway at the rear of "The Cardinal's Hat". A black gloved fist emerges from the cloak to tap lightly on the solid oaken door atop the stair. Once...then a pause. Three more soft knocks followed by another three. There is the sound of heavy bolts being drawn aside before the solid click of a key freeing the lock and the door opens enough for a bright, dark eye to survey the figure on the stair.
"You weren't followed...you're certain?", hisses from behind the door.
The cloaked figure brushes aside both door and question as she sweeps into the room, dropping heavily into a chair beside the ornate desk occupying the centre of the room and hoisting her feet onto the desk top. Reaching into the boot tops she withdraws two stiletto daggers, their three sided blades crusted with flaking blood, and throws them on the desk.
"Have these cleaned and honed, Meg. I'll need them again soon, no doubt".
Oozing Meg closes and locks the door before shuffling to grab the stilettos with a clawlike hand and sweep them into the voluminous tatters of her skirts."You're sure none tracked you?"
The Lady chuckles low in her throat, "Two trailed me as I entered the warrens by the Fleet. They followed to their death".
Meg nods, unkempt, matted locks covering her face as she limps, hunchbacked to the other door. "A gentleman awaits below. Would venture naught save he has business with you, your Grace". The scorn with which the honorific is used is apparent, but goes unremarked.
"Bid him attend me then, but be sure to keep an ear at the door and your Uzi in your hand till we know who this mystery man is and what business he brings".
Meg adjusts the hump on her back, it having slipped on it's straps, giving her the appearance of a dromedary, and leaves the room, mumbling darkly of Papist plots and how hard it is to find 9mm ammo in sixteenth century England.
Seconds later another knocks at the door, as the door is slowly opens a another cloaked figure slides into the room, May O'Brien smiles at Meg and says "tell your mistress I am here Meg, I would talk with her before she talks to her visitor, also tell her she missed the third of her would be followers, but his fate was also sealed with steel" as Meg turns to leave, May catches her arm " and find me a clean whore who understands the peccadillos of a woman"
Meg cackles and nods, causing further slippage of her errant hump, and lurches away along the dim corridor. Turning the corner, she straightens up to her full statuesque six feet and reaches inside the folds of her tattered clothing, tugging and heaving at the straps beneath until the hump is secured once more over her right shoulder blade. Returning to her stooped and limping gait as she pushes through the curtain into the common room she bawls in a cracked and crazy voice,"Beatrice! Get yer arse into number four bedroom, you've a special awaitin' on ye, so make sure you're clean where it counts, girl. Move it, or you'll be back to being a bawdy-basket afore this night ends!"
A heavily made-up woman in only her undergarments rises from where she lay sprawled on a couch. Grabbing a bottle from a nearby table she disappears through the curtain, swigging deep from the bottle as she goes.
Oozing Meg pulls a walkie-talkie from the recesses of the rags that pass for clothing and presses the button on the side, "The O'Brien doxy is here to see you, Mistress Arabella. When you're done tell her Betty is in number four".
"Send her up then, sister, and let us see what news she brings from Court" crackles the reply.
Lady Arabella tosses the parchment across the desk after spending some minutes perusing its contents whilst absent-mindedly diddling beneath her farthingale and smock, "You know your letters, wench, read it. It would seem our employer has thrown us together once more." She inclines her head in a slight nod, "My thanks for removing the third follower, I shall return the favour should opportunity arise. In the meantime I understand Oozing Meg has arranged for you to slake your...appetite. A trug awaits your pleasure in the fourth bedroom. Be ready to leave at dawn, we shall ride first for Rochester, then seek direction from there".
She rises and stands before the hearth, her back to the girl, indicating the meeting is at an end.
I just stumbled upon this Forum. I shall return to learn more.
Of course, my Lord. Your intelligencers await but your word.
Lizzie a servant girl to Lady Arabella knows all the stews and whorehouses in London and is eager to follow her mistress on her adventures.
This is a very interesting adventure. I will have to decide what role I might be able to play. Are you in need of an expert interrogator? I do have some experience with getting a lot out of the mouths of many. I really do enjoy my work.
and me, but a mere commoner I am, but a minstrel no less.
I will divulge myself to you in due time, you shall see me and hear my song, I will tantalize you kind sir, and you will be under my spell.........ha ha ha.....and as fast as I arrive, I am gone.....an invintation is left upon your table......
May???
From what I hear among the bawds of Southwark, you're a "certainly", not a "may".
My Lady Arabella that remark is beneath you, and besides, my bedfellows wake in the mornings
A peal of derisive laughter escapes the Duchess.
"If you choose to leave a trail of your former bedfellows alive to tell tales, that's your affair. I prefer a more circumspect approach. And a stiletto 'neath the bolster ensures no prattling doxy will divulge any of my slumbering mumblings to those who might enquire after me".
Touchee My Lady our mounts for the ride to Strood are saddled and ready for the journey, if we leave soon we will be there before night fall.
Let us away then, if you can tear yourself away from buxom Beatrice and her accommodating cunny.
I was actually eyeing Lizzie your servant girl My Lady,
Lizzie is not for the likes of you, O'Brien. I plan to introduce her at Court and secure a suitable match for her. 'Tis a debt I owe her departed Mother. Go against me in this and you'll spend your last minutes in this world trying to scoop your entrails back in your belly.
Now bid Farewell to the bawd and let us ride for Rochester.
