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of voices coming from the bed hangings.
     
    "Justin is a man quite capable of looking after himself. Why should he need your help with his prisoner?"
     
    "Because it will be easier to get him safely back to London if there are two of us. Common sense would tell you that, Aldith."
     
    "Why does it have to be you? Why not send your serjeant?"
     
    "This is too important a matter to entrust to Wat. He does well enough with cutpurses and chicken thieves, but we're going up against the Devil's own."
     
    "I still do not see why you must be the one to accompany Justin to London. Let him deal with John. After all, he is the queen's man, not you."
     
    "Why are you being so unreasonable about this? I spend half my time on the roads of the shire, so why are you balking now? For the love of God, woman, I'm off to London, not Sodom or Gomorrah!"
     
    "Do what you want, Luke. You always do."
     
    "Is that what this is all about? Because I said we could take our time in making wedding plans? I did not say I was unwilling to wed you, Aldith!"
     
    Justin had heard more than enough. Feeling too much like an eavesdropper for his own comfort, he deliberately dropped his boots into the floor rushes, then began to croon to Jezebel, trying to sound like a man who'd just awakened and hadn't heard a word of that painful, intimate argument. As he'd hoped, his stirring put a stop to the quarrel, although there was a distinct coolness between Luke and Aldith when they finally emerged from the curtained cocoon of their bed, a coolness that had not thawed by the time Luke and Justin were ready to depart.
     
    While Justin thought Luke was crazed to risk losing Aldith, it never occurred to him to express that opinion to the deputy. Men did not offer advice of the heart; that was the province of women. He contented himself with a neutral comment once they were on the road, a casual remark that Aldith had seemed to be in an ill temper, thus opening the door a crack in case Luke wanted to talk. When Luke responded with a grunt, Justin let the subject drop, his duty done. How could he throw Luke a lifeline when he was bogged down himself, trapped and sinking fast in Claudine's quagmire.
     
    They left Winchester in midafternoon, riding fast and hard. Three days later, the city walls of London came into view. Halting upon Old Bourn Hill, they kept a wary eye upon their prisoner while sharing a wineskin. "Shall we take him to the Tower straightaway?" Luke suggested, and gave Justin a surprised look when the younger man shook his head vehemently.
     
    "No, not the Tower. We need a safer place to stow him, where there will be no chance that John can discover his whereabouts."
     
    "Safer than the Tower?" Luke asked skeptically. "Unless ... you think that John has spies in the queen's household?"
     
    "Yes," Justin said, tersely enough to discourage Luke from probing further, at least for the moment. "We need a special kind of shepherd to watch over this particular sheep, one willing to fend off royal wolves if need be."
     
    Luke smiled. "Jonas?"
     
    Justin nodded. "Who else?"
     
    ~~
     
    The main entry into London from the west was through the massive stone gatehouse known as Newgate, which was also used as a city gaol. Luke's credentials as an under-sheriff of Hampshire gained them easy entry and no one questioned their claim that they were delivering a prisoner to Jonas. They needed to be no more explicit than that, for to the gaolers, the name Jonas could refer to only one man - the laconic, one-eyed serjeant who was the sheriff of London's mainstay and the bane of the lawless from Cripplegate to Southwark.
     
    They were giving instructions in Jonas's name when the serjeant himself put in an appearance. If he was startled to see Luke and Justin paired up again, he hid it well; Justin suspected that he'd long ago lost his capacity for surprise. Not as tall as either Justin or Luke, he was still able to command attention by his physical presence alone.