The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

I'll see to his obit Masses: the high altar, Lewes Cathedral: every year.It's my business now. That's how it'll be.’

Inhis amateur opinion he doubted Father Omar would be long in purgatory anyway -but that wasn't for him to judge.

‘Also,sweet lady,’ he added, ‘give me strength.’

AndShe - or someone - apparently did.

************

‘Now,are you sure?’

‘Completely.’

‘Youngman, I wish there to be no doubt. Your signature entrusts this money for fivelong years. Otherwise you gain no interest. This way the rate is good butmeanwhile you cannot dip within free of penalty.’

‘Bloodyhell, Christ-killer! How many more times?’

TheHebrew thought and then decided. He smiled to reduce the tension and pushed thetally book forward. Samuel took up the offered inkstick and added his name tothe form of words.

‘Ihope you will forgive some further observations...,’ said the goldsmith-cum-banker.

‘Dependswhat they are,’ answered Trevan.

‘Itis merely that you seem... young to possess such a note. Yet the name inArundel is good with me; the making over to yourself faultless....’

Samuelsaved the man some trouble.

‘ButI look like I've been through a hedge backwards, right?’

TheHebrew shrugged, a disarming it’s-your-life gesture. The tassels on hisprayer shawl repeated it at waist level. He could afford to be relaxed. Giventhe nature of his trade there was security aplenty to hand: a stiletto beneaththe shop counter, three hefty sons out the back. Even so, there was somethinginnate to this young Christian that impelled the seeking out of his right side.And if his professional life had taught the Hebrew anything it was thatinstinct knew best. He decided to go with it.

‘Whenyou said you wished to invest, my initial misgivings disappeared. Thefraudulent desire only immediate gold in their hands. Thus I am satisfied.Would you care for refreshments whilst your certificate is drawn up?’

Thetally book was already passed to an elderly clerk perched on a high desk. Hebegan to unroll a piece of vellum on which to inscribe the transaction.

Samuelwas ravenous but he'd heard disturbing things about the Jewish way with food -something about saving or removing blood. Whether true or false he still fearedfalling on whatever was provided and devouring every crumb. Which wasn'ton: not here. It must serve as another test of resolve.

‘Nothanks,’ he said. ‘I'll call later and collect it.’

‘Butyou'll have no receipt till then,’ the Hebrew protested. ‘It is a substantialsum....’

‘Itrust you. You wouldn't cheat me.’

Therewere two aspects of truth to that. Firstly, it suited Christendom to toleratesome usury in its midst - but any fraud allowed expression of a backlog ofdisapproval. Justice wasn't often tempered by mercy in such cases; andpunishments had been known to get a touch indiscriminate - even communal. TheHebrews, mindful of this, operated their own draconian system of control.Legend had it that throats were slit and wrongs put right long before theChristians got wind of them.

Secondly,Samuel was discovering that he'd brought more than luggage up from Sussex. Thecaution he inspired at Cliffe survived the transfer to London's wider stage.For all that he was on the way to being ragged, something within him madepeople... careful, and solicitous of his good opinion. Aside from the sum he'djust stored out of reach for five years it was his only asset. Aware of that,he was constantly testing its extent.

‘You’reright,’ agreed the Hebrew, keeping any inflection from his voice. ‘I wouldn'tcheat you. Because God is watching.’

Trevanfollowed the Hebrew’s upward gaze – and made clear he saw only ceiling. He evenwaved at the nothing. The transaction failed to end in handshakes.

Outsidethe fortified shop, Samuel punched the air in triumph. He stared down a passinggroup of black-clad clerks who'd looked at him.

‘Yes!’he said, to no one and everyone.

Yes:he'd won another victory over self. That was another temptation gone. With sucha record of defeat his weaker impulses ought to soon give up the fight anddepart. The sooner the better: they're weren't welcome on the voyage heintended.

Samuelstrode off down Lower Thames Street into the future, stomach rumblingplaintively.

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

cHAPTER 8

‘Get him!’

‘Oi,shit-a-bed! Come 'ere!’

Samuelhad no intention of doing any such thing: Middlesex Street market must see himno more – unless/until he got hungry again. Meanwhile, this pilfered round ofbread was rightly his by virtue of the Trade Guilds shutting him out from everyhonest employment. If he was forever damned as a 'straw-head Sussexforeigner' everywhere he went then he'd bloody well behave like one.

Whathe lacked in speed he made up for in bulk. People that might have impeded aswifter but thinner man thought it higher wisdom to get out of Samuel's way.Thus he made good time through the crowded market place. Sanctuary orconcealment were hard by: Crutched Friars or Pepys Park respectively. With luckhe ought to make it.

Unfortunately,the path he cleared was of equal use to the Watchmen and stallholder. Some ofthem had longer legs than he. There was also the question of them tiring of thechase and seeking a clean shot. His back, broad enough as it was, felt a milewide and getting wider.

Asif it weren't enough that he should chose to turn thief just as a Watch patrolpassed by, fate saw fit to throw in a moral dilemma. Samuel could just havetrampled the toddler: she would have survived. Her mother had shamelesslyfailed the test and drawn back from impact, but the child was not so agile.Trevan could not go round her; his pace too headlong, the way blocked bystalls. As with life itself, the choice was either to proceed or concede. Muchas it might be desired, there was no option to step aside for a while, to restand soberly review.

Givenhis background, it wasn't open to Samuel to be ruthless regarding an abandonedchild. He halted and turned to face the hunt.

Therewere four main actors besides himself, plus a swarm of bit-players who mightsaunter on stage when the plot was clarified. The officer of the Watch stoodback, dimly glimpsed behind his men and of no present account. Samuel calmlyrested the stolen cartwheel loaf on a handy barrow.

‘Righty-ho!’

Theyhadn't expected him to speak first. Nor was it playing the game to notsurrender.

‘Righty-hoto you too, you basta-....’

The portly Watchman,all puffed out and florid, hadn't thought to be drawn forward by the muzzle ofhis own musket. He'd been