“Here they come!” Kit shouted, and the lads crowded to the windows around Nell. Nell heard drumbeats and the tramp of booted feet. The noise of the crowd was growing louder. Every wall, window, and rooftop was occupied, and the streets as far as she could see were aswarm. Across the road to the south, she could see over the walls of the grand houses along the Thames, their imposing fronts facing London and their capacious gardens sloping down behind to the river. Paul’s, and southwest past Charing Cross to Whitehall Palace. Feeling their eyes on her a little too keenly, she went to the window.įrom this height, the view stretched eastward down Fleet Street toward St. The dark stout tasted full and bitter, much heavier than the small beer she was accustomed to drinking, but she swallowed it down as the boys looked on, grinning. The boys nodded their greetings, and Nell took the mug Kit handed her and drank. “This is my brother Davy, and Kit and Toby.” Each of the boys held a mug, and from their red faces and boisterous laughs, Nell guessed they had been drinking for some time. They were all about sixteen years old, probably nearing the end of their apprenticeships, and it looked as if their master was nowhere near, for a barrel had been tapped and stood on a table at one side of the room.
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