Great Britain -- History -- Mary I, 1553-1558 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"You have come to the right shop, then," the man answered briskly.
Nodding to our conductor to depart, he carefully let him out. Then,
barring the door behind him, he as rapidly strode to the pallet and
twitched it aside, disclosing a trap door. He lifted this, and we saw
a narrow shaft descending into darkness. He brought the taper and held
it so as to throw a faint light into the opening. There was no ladder,
but blocks of wood nailed alternately against two of the sides, at
intervals of a couple of feet or so, made the descent pretty easy for
an active man. "The door is on this side," he said, pointing out the
one. "Knock loudly once and softly twice. The word is the same."
We nodded and while he held the taper above, we descended, one by one,
without much difficulty, though I admit that half-way down the old
woman's words "Go on and perish" came back disquietingly to my mind.
However, my foot struck the bottom before I had time to digest them,
and a streak of light which seemed to issue from under a door forced
my thoughts the next moment into a new channel. Whispering to Master
Bertie to pause a minute, for there was only room for one of us to
stand at the bottom of the shaft, I knocked in the fashion prescribed.
The sound of loud voices, which I had already detected, ceased on a
sudden, and I heard a shuffling on the other side of the boards. This
was followed by silence, and then the door was flung open, and,
blinded for the moment by a blaze of light, I walked mechanically
forward into a room. I made out as I advanced a group of men standing
round a rude table, their figures thrown into dark relief by flares
stuck in sconces on the walls behind them. Some had weapons in their
hands and others had partly risen from their seats and stood in
postures of surprise. "What do you seek?" cried a threatening voice
from among them.
"Lace," I answered.
"What lace?"
"French lace."
"Then you are welcome--heartily welcome!" was the answer given in a
tone of relief. "But who comes with you?"
"Master Richard Bertie, of Lincolnshire," I answered promptly; and at
that moment he emerged from the shaft.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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