Please be aware as you read this story that it is written in the language of the last half of the seventeenth century. English at that time consisted of only forty thousand words, and some of their spellings and meanings differ from our current ones. Contractions were rarely used at that time by the nobility and gentry, so some of my dialogues may seem stiff, though not as stiff as Shakespeare's at the beginning of the century. For increased clarity, my chosen style differs from those contemporaneous with my story's setting, such as that in the Diary of Samuel Pepys. I hope my blending of old language with phrasing a bit more modern still conveys a fair sense of the time.
In 2009, the one-millionth word was added to the English language, so I have restricted myself to using only four per cent of the words available. Culling the other ninety-six per cent is a labour of love, so please point out any usages you find to be non-historic.
Below is a plan of London as it was in 1666 when the story opens.
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Copyright © 2021 by Michael Walsh
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Historical FictionA bastard by birth and orphaned at twelve, Charles has learnt to fend for himself in 1660s London. Homeless, he seeks shelter for the night in some canvas aboard a barge on the Thames. In the morning, he tumbles awake when the sail is hoisted, and t...