A Polite Answer to a 'Review'

Greetings to all my friends and readers out there, it has been quite some time since I’ve had the chance to site down for a quiet hour and compose for my blog.  What with three teenagers home all day on the Yuletide holidays and the frantic efforts to get my eldest into a university course after the regional bell curve and algebraic massaging of VTAC turned his straight A and A+’s into C’s and a pitiful scatter of B’s.  But I’ll deal with that discriminatory bias by Victorian Education anon.  The local bushfires and a few unfortunate tragedies too close to home of course didn’t help matters.  In the meantime I’d like to bring up a vexing subject for writers, both retained and Indie, that of Amazon reviews.  I know this particular theme can fill countless blog and forum pages and I don’t wish to revisit old arguments or well hashed debates, instead based on observation over the past couple of years I’ll divide them into three classifications.

1. Genuine comments from readers responding to their perceived view of a novel.
2. Sock puppets of aggrieved fellow authors or would be writers and hired hacks from various publicity or publishing houses.
3. Trolls out to gain vicarious satisfaction and jollies by putting others down.

There of course many other sub divisions and categories but I think these three will suffice.

Now for the writer the question is do you answer these reviews?  That is a ticklish question, on the one hand responding to a good or average review is a polite acknowledgement for effort.  While to answer the commonly baseless accusations can be seen to be pandering to the desires, plans or prejudices of sock puppets and trolls giving them a bigger target.  Though to let those go unanswered can have serious consequences on the sales and promotion of your novels.  It really is a quandary, to give the benefit of the doubt to a suspicious review or reveal them as malicious frauds?

Well here’s how I’m going to deal with one review that’s left me perplexed and dismayed for the past few months.  By the way my deepest thanks to my dear friends at EHFA for their helpful advice and support regarding this matter.

Darkness Divined

MarieG 2.0 out of 5 stars Confusing! 7 Oct 2012

As a great fan of historical novels I didn't expect to find myself so befuddled by the content of this story. It seemed that as a reader I was thrown into the middle of a story that I had missed half of. Without warning I was presented with a vampire strand of the story and I just got confused about where the story was. I couldn't finish it which is something that I rarely say once I start a book. Additionally the Kindle edition had many grammatical and spelling errors that were distracting in the extreme. I am surprised that there are not more reviews of this book. Great idea and style but For me lost in translation (sorry).

To MarieG

Thank you for review I have thought long and hard about your comments and have delayed replying as I mulled them over trying to work out the areas of your difficulties.  So I will endeavour to give you satisfaction one item at a time. 

1. A great fan of Historical Fiction befuddled by the content of the story.

1. #28 in Books > Fantasy > Historical
2. #43 in Kindle Store > Books > Fiction > Fantasy > Historical

The story is listed in the historical fantasy genre as is proved by the above ranking prominently displayed on the book page.  It is not, nor does it imply either by promo, prologue or genre placement to be historical fiction.  While set in the nominal world of a young Henry VIII the phrase - the dark magicks of reanimation should have given a hefty hint that this novel strayed into the supernatural.

2. An unexpected vampire strand of the story

Firstly I refer you to the above ranking of the story in the Amazon genre categories it is a Historical Fantasy, so by classification it must have fantastic, supernatural or magical elements as part of the story like, witches, elves, demons and so on.  Secondly the book promo refers directly to these two phrases- Now Francis knows very well who killed Gwen, the problem is ensuring she stays safely dead while he tracks down the source of the dark magicks of reanimation.  Now that should give the clue that we are dealing with a heavy fantasy component, as well as magick and the walking dead.

Or then, maybe Mistress Annise? That’s if you can trust a drinker of blood.  As for the, to you unexpected inclusion of a vampyre, if it is in the promo and it is historical fantasy as we’ve already proved you’d have to be pretty disappointed if a drinker of blood wasn’t a vampyre.

Thirdly the first two and a half chapters are available to read in Amazon’s Look Inside option or as a sample download.  Now I’m really not giving anything away in stating quite bluntly that the first few pages give more than a hint that this tale is dealing with the reanimated dead, as Francis grapples with the suddenly moving slain woman.  That’s not something you’d normally expect in your average Tudor historical fiction, but does fit with fantasy.

3. Grammatical and spelling errors 

Ahh yes the old bugbear, this is always difficult to answer since when it comes up no evidence is provided, it’s a bit like the old Tudor cry of treason or witchcraft just enough to set the mobs a howling for blood but no proof.  Considering that I can easily cite over a dozen prominent works of fiction and non fiction with the most abysmal spelling and grammar is not an excuse, but it is reality.  I suggest that if you would care to equally direct your outraged ire at the larger publishing houses rather than just poorly resourced Indies then I will readily accept your admonishment.  However I believe it is stated quite conclusively at the start of the book that I use Tudor spellings for places and occasionally titles and terms as well as a glossary.  As for grammar both my editor and I use the Australian style manual and a very large pile of Tudor reference books (see this link for a partial list).  Although, as I’ve seen what is considered correct grammatical practice can vary wildly between genres, professions and regions, let alone those between continents supposedly using the same language.  All I can say is that my personal style is the product of my heritage, education, reading and environment.  I can however assure you that if you direct me to any particular problems they will be remedied. 

4. More reviews…Great idea and style

Thank you for that part of your review, though your phrasing leaves a hanging question, was that more good reviews or bad reviews?  Unfortunately the praise comes well after your emphatic expressions of confusion and dislike so I’m not sure you actually meant it, but I will be a gentleman allow you the benefit of the doubt.  So my thanks, for leaving your opinion.

Regards Greg

The Next Big Thing in Tudor England

Greetings my well regarded readers, I hope that all is well with you and yours as we rapidly approach the Yuletide celebrations.  Remember feast and quaff in moderation and if in doubt don’t drive, I’d like to see you all alive and relaxed after the New Year.  Today I have a few announcements before we move on to the body of the blog.  Firstly A very big thank you to fellow Aussie Historical Fiction Author Barbara Gaskin Denvil http://www.bgdenvil.com/

for selecting me for The Next Big Thing, a kind of blog style pass the parcel packed full of hidden treasures.

I’m sharing this wonderful experience with several other talent writers so I highly recommend a visit to their sites.

ANNA BELFRAGE on 22^nd December - www.annabelfrage.com/Home/

 A RIP IN THE VEIL is the first book of THE GRAHAM SAGA.

JULIET WALDRON will also post on 22^nd December -http://www.julietwaldron.com/

ROAN ROSE a tale set in the latter years of the War of the Roses

DARLENE ELIZABETH WILLIAMS will post on 23^rd December -http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fdarleneelizabethwilliamsauthor.com%2F&h=XAQFdVL0L

Darlene is well known amongst historical fiction devotees as a discerning reviewer and I’ve heard some time soon we’ll be treated to her first published novel.

What is the working title of your next book?

Now that’s an easy question, The Smithfield Shambles hopefully out in January 2013.

Where did the idea come from for this book?

Well the wholes series actually, so many fine writers have worked over the machinations and dalliances of the Tudor Court of Henry VIII that I was unsure jemmy open a Ned Bedwell shaped space in the sub genre.  Then I though of one area almost everyone else had seemed to forget.  The King may royally command, the Lord Chancellor may order the writ and the Privy Secretary may seal and instruct.  But after that, who’s the poor sod further down the hierarchy who get the cuff over the ear or the boot in the arse and grumbling over late pay has to get the task done…or else.  In short its Red Ned Bedwell pursuivant, apprentice lawyer and aspiring rogue.

What genre does your book fall under?

Being set in the Tudor era in the reign of Henry VIII the novel slots into the Mystery section of the Historical fiction genre.  I had briefly considered that it may have inclined more towards the adventure end of the genre, but also all of Ned’s tasks involve shadowy Tudor figures, duplicity or treachery so Mystery it is.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

To play the lead of Red Ned we require a certain brash youthful arrogance combined with the misfortunate timing of Johnny English.  One thought is Simon Pegg of Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead fame though I’m open for suggestions.

As for Meg Black Penelope Cruz would be pretty good pick, she has the size and the fiery temperament to match the Tudor apothecary’s apprentice.  And if that’s so then only one actor could play her brother Jason Momoa from the recent Conan, Game of Thrones and Stargate.  Finally as the looming threatening presence of Gruesome Roger only one actor immediately springs to mind, Geoffrey Rush who made a wonderful Captain Barbossa in Pirates of the Caribbean and a very menacing Walsingham in Elizabeth.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Repeated attempts of mayhem and murder upon the person of apprentice lawyer Red Ned Bedwell, while he undertakes his various duties for Secretary Cromwell or his Uncle Richard Rich is nothing new.  Until now, a dark comedy of mistaken identity, murderous intent and a will.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Now that is a very easy question to answer, I personally believe I have more control over my work if I continue to be an Indie self-publisher.  Considering the constraints on writers in Australia, both geographic and cultural, self publishing is the only route that doesn’t take several years of unrewarding effort and heartbreak.

How long did it take you to finish the first draft of your manuscript?

The first draft of Cardinal’s Angels and Liberties both took one month including all day and long into the night.  In each case the editing and polishing took much longer than the writing as the tale was reforged and refined into a more professional piece.  This time included commas, full stops and paragraph breaks in the right place.

What other books would you compare this to within your genre?

My fondest hope is to be compared favourably to Lindsey Davis with her Falco series or PF Chisholm and her roguish hero Sir Robert Carey.  In my particular Tudor period I’ve been frequently compared with CJ Sansom, which I find flattering though hardly comparable.  Sansom’s his main character Shardlake is a complex flawed hero and lives in a much darker, grimmer Tudor world.  Young Ned is still brimming with enthusiasm and a somewhat over confident eagerness since he’s only beginning his mystery apprenticeship.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Now I very glad you asked that question because it gives me an opportunity to belatedly blow the sackbut for A Notable Discovery of Coosnage 1591 and The Second Part of Cony Catching 1592, by that scandalous rogue and contemporary of Will Shakespeare, Master Robert Greene.  A ‘gentlemen’ gifted with a quill dipped in vitriol and a vindictive streak wider than the Thames.  His descriptions of the arts of cosenage or to use the modern term ‘scam’ are wickedly amusing and the source for many of Ned’s misfortunes.  Another more recent notable writer also serves as inspiration PG Wodehouse with his amusing anecdotes of the adventures of Bertie Wooster.  While PF Chisholm’s excellent A Famine of Horse gave me the direct impetuous for Red Ned Bedwell.

What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?

Humour and a detailed and different view of the Tudor world are two elements that make these stories stand out from the rest.  As is common with most novels in the Historical Mystery subgenre Ned is presented with a puzzling challenge, something or someone is out of kilter and usually unwillingly he is tasked with solving the conundrum.  Unfortunately for Ned being only a young and lowly legal apprentice, he possesses neither the keen intellect of a Sherlock Holmes or the quiet persistence and intuition of Poirot.  Instead Ned has to depend upon his hard won knowledge of cosenage and the nefarious ways of rogues and roisters. 

Regards this Solstice and Yuletide- Greg

The Lord of Misrule Released On Amazon!

New Red Ned Novel Out!

Greetings my well regarded readers, I hope that all is well with you and yours as we rapidly approach the Yuletide celebrations.  Today I have a few announcements before we move on to the body of the blog.  First I would to extend my heartfelt sympathies to the family of Jacinta Saldanha, the staff of King Edward VIII hospital and Kate Middleton the Duchess of Cambridge for the trauma and sorrow caused by the deceitful, cowardly and callous actions of a few of my fellow Australians.  My personal reactions to this crime of fraud and breach of privacy is detailed in my other blog Prognostications and Pouting so for any interested I suggest you clink on the link for a quick visit.

To happier news, I would also like to announce that a new Red Ned story has been released on Amazon- The Lord of Misrule.  This new volume of Red Ned Bedwell’s misadventures is a compilation of the Yuletide tales comprising The Liberties of London, The Fetter Lane Fleece and the latest story A Comfit of Rogues, all brought together into one handy volume.  This will also be the first of my novels that will be committed to hard copy printing and with luck should be available by Christmas.

Now since I’ve already released prologues of all these novellas it’s pretty pointless to do so again.  Instead I thought I’d put up a short list of my Tudor sources, with a brief justification as to why a majority of  historical fiction writers go to such great lengths to present their story in its proper setting.

As with most writers those of us in this genre would like to take you on a journey into the past.  Sometimes just a decade or two, or maybe stretching back deep into the prehistory of the Neolithic.  To weave the visual and mnemonic tapestry of the tale requires a special set of talents, imagination, creativity, commitment, storytelling ability and most importantly resources to draw upon for the historical flavour and texture.  Luckily in these modern times we are blessed with the wonder of the internet, which has been both an enormous boon for its quantity of information and somewhat of a peril for its varying and occasionally dubious quality.  However for the serious historical fiction writer there is always the old standby resource - books.  Lots of them.

Visit the home of just about any writer of this genre and no doubt you’ll find book cases packed to the gunwales of all manner and type, both fiction and non fiction.  For this is the well of inspiration, the salmon of knowledge, where in we dip for the textural landscape of our setting. Such as the size and shape of the buildings, the weft of the clothing the sight and all too often smell of the era.  And most of all the placement and situations of our characters, their families, friends and rivals the very nature of their conflict, adversity or experience.  Without the aid of these splendid props our work would be so much the poorer, merely a thin soup of a serving, instead of a rich spicy banquet fit to stun the senses.

So as an inspiration and an example of some of the library here is a short list of the contents of my library.

The Lord of Misrule Book links

Amazon UK

Amazon US/Australia

Tudor Bibliography

Tudor London

Elizabeth’s London, Liza Picard

The Riverside Gardens of Thomas More’s London, Christianson

The A-Z of Elizabethan London

The Renaissance European Painting 1400-1600, McCorquodale

Cities of the Renaissance World, Swift and Konstam

The History of London in Maps Barker and Jackson

Walking Shakespeare’s London

Shakespeare’s London

 

Tudor Warfare

Weapons of Warre- The Mary Rose Trust

Elizabeth’s Wars Paul, E J Hammer

The Confident Hope of a Miracle, Neil Hanson

The Great Enterprise, Mattingly

War and Society in Renaissance Europe, JR Hale

Weapons and Warfare in Renaissance Europe, Bert S Hall.

Gunpowder, Jack Kelly

English Warfare 1511- 1642, Mark Fissel

the Military Revolution, Geoffrey Parker

Early Gunpowder Artillery, John Norris

Arms and Armour Annual, R. Held ed

Art Arms and Armour 1979-80, R Held ed.

Hafted Weapons in Medieval and Renaissance Europe, John Waldman

Osprey Publications

Henry VIII’s Army

Tudor Knights

The German Peasant Wars

Tudor Society

The Elizabethan Underworld, Gamini Salgado

A Notable Discovery of Coosnage 1591, Robert Greene

The Second Part of Cony Catching 1592, Robert Greene

A Groat’s Worth of Wit 1592, Robert Greene

The Early Tudors at Home Elizabeth Burton

The Tudor Housewife, Alison Sim

Tudor Pastimes and Pleasure, Alison Sim

Food and Feast in Tudor England Alison Sim

The Tudor Law of Treason, Bellamy

Strange and Inhuman Deaths Murder in Tudor England, Bellamy

Big Chief Elizabeth, Giles Milton

Undreamed Shores, Michael Foss

Tudor Rebellions, A Fletcher and Diarmaid McCulloch

Tudor England, ST Bindoff

Beer in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Richard W Unger

Ale Beer and brewing: Women’s Work in a Changing World, Judith M Bennett

Treason in Tudor England, Lacy Baldwin Smith

The Pilgrimage of Grace, Moorhouse

English Merchant Shipping 1460-1540 Dorothy Burwash

Rethinking the Henrican Era, Herman Ed.

Foul Bills and Dagger Money R G Hamilton

Invisible Power: the Elizabethan Secret Service Alan Hayes

Medicine and Society in Later Medieval England

The Tudor Constitution, G R Elton

Authority and Disorder in Tudor Times 1485-1603, Paul Thomas

A Time Traveller’s Guide to Elizabethan England, Mortimer

The Complete works of William Shakespeare

Contested Will Who wrote Shakespeare, J Shapiro

What the Tudors Did for Us, Adam Hart-Davis

All the King’s Cooks: The Tudor Kitchens of Henry VIII at Hampton Court Palace, Peter Brears

Ale Beer and Brewsters in England, Judith M. Bennett

The Cambridge History of Urban Britain Vols 1-2

The Tudor Tailor, Mikhaila and Malcolm Davies

Period Costume for Stage and Screen 1500-1800, Jean Hunnisett

The Patterns of fashion, Janet Arnold

Tudor Court

In the Lion’s Court, Derek Wilson

The Life and Letters of Thomas Cromwell, Merriman

Letters to Cromwell, Cooke

The Lisle Letters, ed Muriel St Clare Bryne

Thomas More, Marius

Thomas More, Ackroyd

Thomas More, Roper and Harpsfield

Wolsey, Cavendish

The Reign of Henry VIII, Starkey

The Statesman and the Fanatic –Thomas Wolsey and Thomas More, Ridley

Rivals in Power, Starkey

A Tudor Tragedy, Lacy Baldwin Smith

The Mask of Royalty Henry VIII, Lacy Baldwin Smith

A Tudor Tragedy, Neville Williams

The Double Life of Doctor Lopez, Dominic Green

Henry VIII’s Divorce Literature and the Politics of the Printing Press, J C Warner

Great Harry, Carolly Erikson

Henry VIII The King and his Court, Alison Weir

The Children of England; The Heirs of Henry VIII Alison Weir

Elizabeth the Queen Weir

Mary Boleyn Alison Weir

The Lady in the Tower Alison Weir

The Six Wives of Henry VIII Alison Weir

Mary Tudor England’s First Queen, Whitlock

Henry VIII, Scarisbrick

Henry VIII, Bowles

The Last Days of Henry VIII, Hutchinson

Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII’s most notorious minister, Hutchinson

Anne Boleyn, Joan Denny

Who’s Who in Tudor England, Rouse

The Infamous Lady Rochford, Julia Fox

The Queen’s Conjurer Benjamin, Woolley

The Uncrowned Kings of England, Derek Wilson

The Tudor Queens, Loades

Elizabeth, Starkey

Elizabeth’s Women, Tracy Borman

Mary Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley, Alison Weir

Arabella England’s Lost Queen, Sarah Gristwood

My Heart is Not My Own, John Guy

Religion

The Reformation, Diarmaid McCulloch

The Pursuit of the Millennium, Norman Cohen

God’s Bestseller, Moynaham

Reformation Europe 1517-1559, G R Elton

Bloody Mary’s Martyrs, Ridley

Schisms in Christianity and the rise of Protestantism

Then of course we have the internet sources such as academic articles, national archives, online archives, the Guttenberg Project and university dissertations and if your keen that can take up weeks in the searching and compiling.  I think we’ll leave a taste of those resources for a later occasion.

To all my readers keep safe and well in this lead up to Yuletide and unlike Red Ned quaff in moderation.

Regards Gregory House

A Comfit of Rogues Released on Amazon

 New Red Ned Novel out

Greetings my well regarded readers, I hope that all is well with you and yours this All Souls Eve, or All Hallows Eve for those in the north and Beltain for us in the southerly climes.  Today I have a few announcements before we move on to the body of the blog.  First I would to extend my heartfelt sympathies to those lost and injured during Hurricane Sandy and highly commend all the rescue workers and ordinary people who are doing such splendid work helping their neighbours and their communities.  If possible I’d like to encourage everyone to give aid to the Red Cross for what I fear is the start of a very long recovery. 

As well I would also like to announce that as of today a new Red Ned story has been released on Amazon- A Comfit of Rogues.  This tale, also set in novella form carries on from Ned’s near disastrous venture in The Fetter Lane Fleece.

Ned has tweaked the noses of the Masters of Mischief and Roguery in the City and Liberties of London once too often.  Putting aside their rivalry they’ve signed a compact to ensure the removal of this meddlesome apprentice lawyer and aspiring rogue.  So can Ned count on anyone in the London Underworld for support, or is the reward of five gold angels in coin too much temptation for treachery? 

Plots, plunder and the occasional hobby horse abound, in Tudor London this Misrule.

The next tale of Ned’s Yuletide and Misrule adventures after The Liberties of London and The Fetter Lane Fleece.  including a cast of rogues, beggars and lowly Londoners.

For your delight and amusement I’m putting up chapter 1 on this blog, please feel free to pass this around.  Also as an All Hallows treat the previous Red Ned novel A Fetter Lane Fleece will be available as a free download from Amazon for two days from 1^st Nov (12am Pacific Standard Time ie Seattle) .  So put your feet up have a chortle over poor Ned and stay safe this week.

Regards Gregory House

A Comfit of Rogues Book links

A Comfit of Rogues Amazon UK

A Comfit of Rogues Amazon US/Australia

 

The Fetter Lane Fleece

The Fetter Lane Fleece Amazon UK

The Fetter Lane Fleece Amazon US/Australia

Chapter One A Christmas Calling

The chill breath of winter blew down the lanes of New Rents Southwark, a setting the window shutters rattling and the painted signs above swaying to and fro. It also forced the small band trudging through the flurries of wind–driven snow to huddle deeper into their collection of ragged cloaks and worn gowns as they muttering and cursing at the weather. At the front their leader didn’t give the complaints any mind, though his bulbous nose glowed red with the cold and the straggly brown locks escaping from under his tattered cap were caked in icy sleet. No matter the weather, even if it were Satan’s own fearsome flaming farts you faced, only a lack brained fool keen for a bruising or worse would have dared to voice a challenge to an order from Canting Michael. And Gulping Jemmy wasn’t near that foolish, so he turned a deaf ear to the mutinous mutters and grumbled curses behind him and forged ahead deeper into the chancy lanes of New Rents. So they were nervous and afraid. Phew, what a pack of trembling pizzle pullers! Weren’t they the fearsome lads of Canting Michael, gang lord of Southwark and the baiting pits?

Gulping grinned as he ‘overheard’ one of the lads whispering to poor Will the tales about Gryne’s Men and how they hacked apart those who crossed them in bloody retribution. As tales went it had it all, packed full of gruesome detail along with the useful caveat that in essence it was true. Most of Southwark had seen the parade of the lopped trunk and several assorted parts impaled on an array of pikes escorted by Gryne’s Men last summer. Even Justice Overton, their blinkered magistrate, who reputedly only noticed a gold angel thrust in front of his nose, had witnessed the precession to the pillory at High Street. Canting himself had watched nodding with grim approval, then as an aside curiously wondering how their goodly, honest and worthy Justice would ascribe this death on the mortuary bill, severe ague perhaps or possibly accidental drowning.

It had been neither and Gulping Jemmy should know. He’d seen the listing for the day. It’d cost him a groat to the clerk but the expense had been worth it. The proof had won him a shilling and a slightly worn cambric shirt from Reaching Richard the hookman. So for him the journey to the Gryne Dragone, lair of Gryne’s Men, was naught to be concerned over. If his escort shivered and shook with more dread than cold at the squeal of the chains holding the carved and painted dragone, that was all to the good.

A greater fright awaited as they approached the door. Suddenly a six foot tall door warden, a great butcher’s blade in hand, lurched out of a covered shelter. From the abruptly muffled squeal Jemmy could swear young Will, their most recently recruited roister had dampened his codpiece. The door warden snarled and Jemmy’s retinue flinched. Their leader though returned his own cheery grin and brushed the snow off the collar of his worn heavy scarlet gown. “Good day Wat. Is the Captaine in?”

His question was answered with a short grunt and a tilt of the cleaver sized implement indicated that Jemmy was allowed entrance. With a friendly nod and the toss of a small coin he pushed the door open and whistling he stepped out of the cold. As he should have expected the gasp and whimper of incipient terror once more came from young Will. Jemmy shook his head in mock regret over the sad quality of Canting’s latest retainer. If the lad hadn’t been the favoured son of the gang lord’s sister he’d still be a carpenter’s arse, and a poor one at that.

In Southwark the choice of boozing kens was many and varied. A fellow, if he chose could toss down sour ale by the firkin in a tumbled down hovel of an ale house. By law and statute such places had to be identified by a green bush out front, though it was commonly a few withered leaves on a broken branch. There he may get rolled by thieves and cutpurses or purge his guts from sour maggoty ale, but life was full of diverse pleasures and risks. Alternately if flushed with silver the Tabard Inn on High Street was the perfect place—fresh rushes on the floor, a decent brew with possibly better company and or at least less chance of puking his pint. Even so the punks were of a better sort. Jemmy should know. He ‘personally’ collected the rents. In between these extremes stood a tavern such as the Gryne Dragone. It possessed a good sized common room, a blazing fire, fine ale and the reputation for serving a tasty pottage and usually a roasted ordinary dripping in savoury juices, all of which would normally draw in a sizable clientele from Southwark’s finest. Except for one slight difference.

Most taverns made an effort to decorate with whitewashed walls and timber wainscoting. The wealthier few even pushed extravagance to a mock canvas tapestry or painted plaster. Here they’d gone a step further or maybe depending on your taste a whole mile. The walls were fitted out like the racks of the Ward muster armoury. Pole arms, spears, bills, axes and spiked maces jostled for room with stands of half armour and great swords. Now unlike some lord’s hall where this was a statement of past glories and ancient martial deeds, Jemmy, like the rest of his band could see by the gleam of oiled and polished ironware that this array was sharp and ready for instant and bloody use. For Captaine Gryne this served as the well–arranged display of any quality craftsmen, though unlike the shops in the street of the goldsmiths it wasn’t fancy gilt and silver ewers he had on show. And this wasn’t all. The Captaine didn’t just offer the wares of war but also the skilled muscle to wield them, for a price. And this was why Will had wilted so completely. At any time the tavern held a dozen odd veterans of the battles in France, Italy or further afield. During the festivities of Christmas that number tripled and then some. Even the boldest rogue would have faltered at the way the assembly swivelled as one to view their ‘guests’. So many fearsome battle scarred faces lacking eyes, teeth and noses could unbalance the humours of even the most stout—hearted roister. As for poor Will, the lad possessed the stomach and fortitude of a mouse.

Jemmy was by now immune to the subdued menace. He waved the company a cheerful greeting, and ignoring the keen eyed calculations of worth and mayhem, took an empty seat at a table by the fire. His company clustered at his back as if trying on a display of swagger. He let them stew in their own sweaty fear for a long minute then sent them off to hide in relative safety at a bench by the door. Anyway Will’s cod piece reeked like a tanner’s yard and by the fire it steamed noxiously.

Keeping up his friendly smile Jemmy lent back against the wall pulling out a small bone comb and quickly flicked it through his greasy brown locks, then with a heavy thumb nail cracked the captured lice. With Captaine Gryne one waited patiently and smiled…always.

By the distinctive peel of the church bells of St Mary Overie by the river he’d been waiting about an hour when the tavern door swung open and in stomped a troop of heavily cloaked men. Most peeled off to various tables but two continued their passage to Jemmy’s table. The first was a tall, lean and swarthy fellow with coal black hair and a mouth set in a permanent sneer from a sword cut. Hand on dagger he gave Jemmy a close and long inspection. As with the rest of the company in the tavern Jemmy continued to display a cheery smile. Master Swarthy Sneer gave a last slit eyed glare and stepped back.

An even larger figure moved into the vacant spot and after unfurling yards of heavy cloak from around his shoulders, revealed a broad strong face and a long red beard split German fashion into two forks over a satin black leather doublet. The new arrival sat down on the opposite bench, hands powerful enough to snap the necks of mastiffs at rest on the oaken boards of the table. A large pottery jug of freshly warmed wine and two silver cups were placed between them. Master Swarthy Sneer performed the duties of a livery servant and filled both cups to the brim. A delicate waft of rich vapour spiralled up. The Master of the Gryne Dragone and Captaine of Gryne’s Men picked up one of the cups, and holding it under his nose drew in the trail of steaming wine then downed it in a single swallow and nodded with approval. “So Gulping Jemmy, how stands ta Misrule festivities o’ Canting Michael?”

Given his pledge of safety Jemmy took his own leisure sip. Hmm, good Gascon. Captaine Gryne was never one to stint on quality. He slowly put his hand into his doublet and pulled out a heavy clinking pouch and slid it across to Captaine Gryne. “Canting gives ‘is respects Captaine.”

Gryne nodded and pushed the purse to his left. As if summoned a young man with all the mannerisms of a clerk scurried out from a curtained alcove. Without any command he immediately emptied the purse, and tally book open, began to count out Canting Michael’s black rent. The scribbler paid close attention and noted down every coin even to a clipped groat. It was said you could cheat Captaine Gryne but once. A few years ago one clerk had tried to pull some coining cozenage on the Captaine’s rents. Gryne apparently had listened to the gabbled excuses and decided the snivelling penner wasn’t wholly to blame and thus only broke the fingers of both hands. Some may scoff and shake their heads but the play of cozenage did require a certain level of honesty, if only to those above.

As the counting continued the Captaine called for a serving of ale, and still playing servant Master Swarthy poured a full measured firkin. Jemmy pulled the timber staved tankard towards him and smacked his lips in appreciation. “Care fo’ a wager Captaine, mayhap on who’s the quickest, fo’ say a firkin?”

Jemmy grinned hopefully. The large man opposite remained silent for a brief second then barked out a short laugh and slapped his palm down on the scrubbed boards of the table. The snap echoed like the sudden belch of a great Gonne. “Jemmy, Jemmy ‘at’s a forlorn hope. I’s seen ya’ guzzle a good couple o’ gallons an’ still stand. I’ll nay take yr’ cozeners ploy.”

Jemmy gave shrug as if the Captaine was losing out on the most certain of opportunities and taking the refusal as yet another round in the monthly game o’ sport they played at the Gryne Dragone, moved onto a more fruitful piece of business. “So Captaine, ‘ave yea ‘eard o’ ta latest ploy o’ ta Bedwell lad?”

Gryne’s heavy red beard moved up and down in a slow nod. “Oh aye, some wild rumour reached me o’ strange doings ov’r on the Fleete a night or so past.”

Jemmy gave his usual half grin. Common gentlemen looked at Gryne and saw only a hired sword, or in this case a great sword for cleaving men in twain. If that were so Canting wouldn’t be the one handing over black rent every month for the ‘safety’ of his Baiting pits. Gryne skimmed a shilling from the pile of coins towards Jemmy. In a practiced flash it disappeared with nary the twitch of a hand. “Tsk, tsk. Flaunty Phil over at ta Fleece tis in a right state. ‘is nose were flattened by a bucket tis said.”

Gryne’s beard split for a moment to reveal a brief broken toothed smile. “Aye an’ the lad fair singed Delphina’s golden crown. Both o’ em are spittin’ fury an revenge all over ta Liberties.” The fierce smile grew wider and the Irish accented tones of Gryne rumbled. “I’s heard young Bedwell won ta Fleete Street race, a’ bare arsed as bishop’s altar boy.”

Now it was Jemmy’s turn to nod. Only a fool would assume Captaine Gryne hadn’t heard about the misfortunes of Red Ned Bedwell. As he knew the shilling was an inducement for depth and breadth to the rumour. “That’s so, in a storm o’ ice an’ snow fram what I’s ’eard. Ned’s a lucky lad. If Lord Frast’s breath were any chillier ’is precious stones woulda froze more than the Thames. A wee tap would hae them shatter like glass baubles!”

Gryne gave an amused chuckle at the image then teased out a little more of his knowledge. “Aye tis said it came close but the apothecary lass he’s a sweet on pulled his chestnuts ut o’ the fire.”

Now it was Jemmy’s turn to grin. He’d met the ‘apothecary lass’ during Ned’s last scheme at cony catching over Bermondsey way. It didn’t take much to remember that very attractive line of neck and shoulder leading to a well packed bodice. Oh yes and sparkling eyes. It mattered naught that she’d played him as a cony with a drugged posset. He was fairly caught and gave due credit to a worthy mistress of cosenage. Jemmy lent forward over the table keen for the meat of the tale for his own curiosity even if Canting wasn’t going to grill him when he returned. “Oh aye?”

“Yea. His codpiece parts were soaked in fresh piss every hour, just like those coneys a’ the Biddle! An he ‘ad no lack o’ friends ta supply t’ steamin’ liquor!”

Gryne’s laugh boomed off the wall and Jemmy readily joined in. Ahh, young Red Ned did get himself into some fine scraps. He’d have paid silver to see Ned’s grimace as his mates unlaced their codpieces and hoes then let forth the stream. Though as strange as the remedy seemed he’s wasn’t moon–calfed enough to scoff at Mistress Black’s regimen of physick, but by Satan’s own blackened bollocks, her cures always had a bitter bite, or so he’d heard.

Having given the reputation of Red Ned Bedwell, young rogue of note, a good pasting for his Fleece folly, Jemmy appeared to relax then took a slurp of the Gryne Dragone ale. As he’d come to know it was a fine drop. Captaine Gryne always had the best double strength ale, aged a year in the barrel by some accounts, only served to those he considered his ‘especial’ friends and since Jemmy felt himself a very useful especial friend indeed, he casually eased out his most valuable morsel of news. “By ta by Captaine have yea ’eard o’ ta meeting Earless Nick wants at ta Bear’s Inn on the morrow?”

The raising of a shaggy eyebrow was his answer.

“He’s called in all ta gang lord’s o’ London, Cantin’ Michael, Flaunty Phil an Ol’Bent Bart ta name a few. I’d a thought yea would ’ave received a letter o’ invitation.”

Captaine Gryne’s eyes didn’t flicker or twitch. Instead his hand moved towards the pile of coins laid out for the tally and skimmed a golden angel towards his visitor. Instantly it vanished into Jemmy’s doublet as he drained the tankard in one long steady swallow after which the tankard smacked down on the table and Jemmy rose up giving his host a respectful tilt of his cap as thanks for the hospitality. “I’ll bid yea a good feastin’ this Misrule and Christmastide Captaine.”

The master of Gryne’s Men gave a slow nod in reply but other than that made no further comment. Acquiring his retinue including the reeking Will on the way out Jemmy strode happily into the grey light of Christmas whistling a jaunty tune. Tomorrow was promising to be very entertaining and fair bulging with golden promise as well.