Read The Liberties of London for Free Online Page B

Dellingham could have been right here. “Not so formal Walter. Call me Ned, or as my closest friends do, Red Ned.”

    “Ahh…certainly Red, ahh, Ned.”

    It was hesitant but at least a start. Ned took a position in front of a wall just up from the watching crowd and began to unlace his codpiece. “Around here there’s a lack of privies, so Walter my lad, its common practice to use a pissing wall.”

    Actually Londoners also used the piss channel in the centre of the road that hopefully carried refuse to the river. With a relieved sigh, Ned performed the necessary function soon followed by a puzzled Walter. Taking his time despite the winter chill, Ned made sure the mounded snow steamed in a prominent display of capacity until he was certain of a result.

    An approaching voice trilled suitable appreciation of his feat. “Ohh I’s says lads. Youse got a rit royal sceptre an’ orb ’ere. Fancy Anthea crowns ‘em fo’ a six pence?”

    Ned finished relacing his cod piece and turned with a smile towards the first of the brightly arrayed girls strutting towards them. The punks of St Paul’s were a colourful bunch, proud of their gaudy plumage. As Ned knew, in the hierarchy of ‘street vendors’, they stood near the top of their free ranging sisterhood, only surpassed by the brothel mistresses in the various ‘nunneries’ scattered across the city’s Liberties. He was also aware of their forward and bold manner that had the preachers at St Paul’s vexed at the displays of open lewdness. For young Walter, he could think of none more suited for the poor mouse. Mistress Anthea had long blonde hair fluttering loose under a simple green cap. She was dressed in a lace fronted kirtle of worn scarlet and had her chemise pulled down around her neck, exposing an interesting amount of breast. A heavy dark cloak was looped through her arms. No doubt it nestled around her shoulders when trade was slower.

    Ned doffed his own cap in a play at gallantry as the St Paul’s punks came closer. “Why thank you for the compliment, though I fear that I must decline your generous offer. However my friend here is new to the glories of London and may be interested.”

    With a wave of his hand, Ned indicated the gawping Walter. At the invitation Mistress Anthea, the boldest of the punks, slipped between the two of them and wrapped an arm around Walter, pulling his face into a close inspection of her bulging bodice. Ned gave an amused chuckle at the sight. “So Walter, you asked to witness the wicked haunts of Babylon. Care to caress a set of devil’s dumplings?”

    Obligingly Mistress Anthea wiggled her bodice and two rosy nipples popped out. Ned could tell how cold it was, for the nipples were as hard and pointy as a church steeple. Walter’s eyes locked on the sight and he swallowed with an audible gulp. “Oh Lord, save me from temptation!”

    “Y’know what they say Walter? To conquer sin you must recognise it.”

    Tentatively Walter the cony reached out and stroked the top of one breast with the back of his fingers. Mistress Anthea smiled encouragingly and caught up Walter’s hand, then looking the lad full in the eye, nibbled his fingers. Walter the cony gulped even louder and his breathing altering noticeably. Ned considered the situation. The education of Walter into the Ways of the World was looking good.

    Unfortunately Lady Fortuna saw fit at the trembling cusp of temptation to spoil the proceedings. Meg Black chose that delicate moment to exit the cathedral and of course beheld the sight of Walter’s introduction to the city. Ned stifled a sigh of exasperation as she stormed over towards the colourful company, trailed by a worried Gruesome Roger. Ned cautiously took a sideways step as Meg Black, her face crimson with either cold or fury, strode up to Mistress Anthea and thrust a menacing finger at her. “You! Unhand him, you gutter punk!”

    At this challenge Mistress Anthea locked her arm around that the now