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

Samuel'srequest to the Sicarii had caused much consulting of files. What they read onlyconfirmed state suspicions. Even if Newport was no 'Dragon town' it hadtolerated their presence. It would do as an exemplar. Traitorous indifferenceto the eternal struggle between Crown and subversion must be seen to bring onlypoverty and woe as its reward.

Samuelexercised his self-discipline muscles by not stopping to see the harbour andquay go up. That was scheduled for twilight and thus maximum visual effect. Hedecided there were better things to do, and besides, the explosion would onlyworsen his perpetual headache. He'd had his holiday and revenge, his grandgetting-it-off-your-chest session. Enough was as good as a feast. His heartfelt the better for it even if his head didn't.

Heleft the foreshore-strand and climbed the not-long-for-this-world harbour stepsto where a bluecoat was holding his horse. He felt tiger-ish and on top ofthings: once again there was no limit to what he might achieve, so long as heput his mind to it.

Forstarters, there was an important letter to reply to. That shouldered its way tothe top of the list. Samuel gave it serious thought.

Duskshould see him at the chartered yacht moored off Chepstow. Then, with a fairwind and using the spur once ashore, he could be back, bright and early, forwork tomorrow. That would surprise those relishing a holiday from hisall-seeing eye. If he also resisted sleep during the crossing…, yes, hereckoned on having time and energy enough to answer Melissa's loving enquiries.

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

Thoughhe'd searched Newport most assiduously for 'Owain Glendower' Samuel never foundhim. He had to be content with leaving a note, prominently addressed and nailedto the market cross. It read simply:

'Dear Mr Glendower and Red Dragon associates.

St Paul's letter to the Galatians, ch. 6 vs. 17:

'I want no more trouble from anybody after this.'

Yours, pointedly.

Samuel Trevan Esq.'

Norwas there; not from them.

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

cHAPTER 32

‘So, who did do it then? The Elves?’

Themining engineer fazed Samuel by taking the suggestion seriously. Down in theWest Country they had less grounds for flippancy about mankind's secretcousins.

‘Couldbe, Mr Trevan, could be. The old miners always said they heard the 'knockers'working in hidden tunnels alongside them.’

Samuelpassed a hand over his furrowed brow. Then he looked again at the vellum map ofthe drained levels they'd revealed. The other team leaders and main playersgathered in the works cabin wondered what inspiration he'd find in all thatblocked progress.

Timeand close contact had grafted a name onto the engineer. Trevan thought he'dventure the personal approach.

‘Well,don't think I'm not grateful, Wulfstan; but how much further does that theorycarry us? In your vast experience have these 'knockers' ever come out to play?’

Hisebbing patience was again depleted by the engineer making a meal out of meresarcasm.

‘Notface to face as such,’ came the eventual reply. ‘But thereagain I've seen somehellish funny things below ground - like when-....’

Samuel'sdinner-plate hand stopped the flow.

‘No.No, you'll oblige me by skipping the anecdotes. Let's keep our finger-grip onspecifics for once. Have you ever known anything foul a pump like that?’

‘Nope!’

Wulfstanthe engineer didn't appreciate having his wealth of stories disparaged. Theywere the ornaments to a long career and evidence of his steep climb out ofchurl-status. Slow-burning anger made him taciturn. The next stage, thoughstill a way off, would be berserk fury and Samuel knew enough to be wary. Thatwas the trouble with educating pure-blood Saxons....

‘Norme,’ chipped in Jimmy Smith, Trevan's old artisan-lieutenant from Whitechapeldays, ‘and I shan't be choked if I don't see the like again. The engine'sbuggered well and truly. You can't even get people near enough long enough toclear it!’

‘Thenwhat's to be done, Jim-boy?’ Samuel didn't mind putting himself in the experts'hands so long as they kept it short - and cheap. He was to be disappointed inone respect.

‘Giveup on it,’ said Smith, surprising all. ‘Give up and 'eave 'er down the shaft: Eastonand Amos or no. Stuff the expense. You'll never get the cack and taint offher. I spewed my guts after just a few minutes having a go. It's disgusting:not natural. Pitch it down and put in another.’

Samuelfrowned. That was a way out, not a solution. They were no nearer solving howtheir below-ground pump had come to be clogged with what appeared and smelt andfelt like Satan's spittle. Parts of the machine had obscenely folded in onitself like (in both looks and usefulness) a wax frying pan.

Hedidn't so much mind providing a new secondary pump - Mott and the Exchequerwere providing, after all - but it went against the grain to move on withoutfirst holding the duff item to account. It felt weak and... wasteful. He hadn'thad his full two-penneth out of the old engine yet.

‘Butthen have the replacement guarded,’ added Jimmy, who knew his master well.‘Let's not lose that one too.’

‘Hmmn,’'agreed' Samuel. It was as much a growl of resignation as affirmation, but thenearest they were going to get. ‘See to it then.’

‘Sorted,’Jimmy informed the meeting, narrow competence personified. ‘I'll away toBideford then. I warehoused the makings of one there against such a turn-up.’

‘Pityyou didn't foresee it then,’ was all the thanks he got from Samuel. Generalopinion said Trevan was getting sourer by the day.

‘Stillgetting the headaches are you?’ asked Jimmy, brightly, unoffended. He hadleeway that other employees didn't - but was pushing it even so.

‘Onlywhen I talk to you. Sod off to Bideford before I repent of my generosity.’

Jimmydid so, sadly shaking his head once out of sight. All the redeeming humour wasgone out of the boss: the man was becoming mean as well as tough. For amoment it had looked like he'd order another useless go at restoring thebefouled engine, just for devilment and because he could. Jimmy pondered onthat. In the old days Trevan & Co. was like being on the gash, but now….Maybe serving the Sultan and a decko at the Sphinx would have been his best betafter all.

Backin the conference, Samuel forced himself to consult the fat wizard. The man hadbeen daydreaming the distasteful meeting away, doodling pentagrams and desireddinners with his inkstick.

‘Ifwe might presume to shake you awake, Mr magician? What's your opinion?’

‘Aboutwhat, Mr Trevan?’

Itwas deliberate, all this casual disdain. Samuel's