The smell of burnt flesh could be detected even at the Red House, many hundreds of yards from the site of public burnings. The Bryan brothers had exited the House through the back door. Yet their horses were nowhere to be seen. The crowds who'd viewed the burning of the Grand Master on the Pyre of the Lollards, soon to be called the Pyre of the Brothers of the Sword had long since dispersed.
"Dammit," exclaimed the younger of the brothers.
"You shouldn't have left them outside of the stables." Walter Bryan said.
"Why the hell would he leave?" asked Philip Bryan.
"Well, we're walking back to our quarters," said Walter. "We'll be knee deep in mud, but it'll have been worth it."
"Not a bad night's work," Philip admitted.
They were about to set off when a quiet whistle was heard from the bushes to their right, on the land side of the riverfront.
"Who goes there?" Walter said.
There was no response, except for another whistle.
"Must be a bird." Philip shrugged his shoulders.
"In March?" Walter replied.
Walter had hardly finished his sentence when someone grabbed him by the neck from behind and shoved him forward into the mud. Philip attempted to draw his dagger (he'd left his sword in his quarters) but five men surged out the darkness and knocked him backwards. Philip felt them trying to grab the gifted purse. There was nothing he could do; if he screamed for the guards, they might question both himself and his brother about their presence near the Red House. If he gave the wrong answer, he might very well be at the mercy of Master Knox. His handiwork was easy to smell this night. Those tended to be the lucky ones.
Then out of the darkness came a yell:
"Get away from them, scum!"
Philip looked up and saw the flash of a blade in the moonlight. The thieves fled as quickly as they appeared. He stood up and turned around. The moonlight revealed Robert Stafford. Philip breathed out heavily.
"Gentlemen," the giant of a knight said. "What are you doing here so late?"
"Out.." Walter managed as he got up, mud covering his face. "Out for a walk."
Robert Stafford laughed heartily.
"Well, I shan't detain you any longer." he said.
The Bryan brothers walked off into the night, but not before Sir Robert Stafford, knight of England and Earl of Northampton, got a glance of their belts. Each bearing the purses which he'd given to a servant. The servant had in his turn given them to the Duchess of York. And now, rather conveniently, they were now upon the belts of the Bryan brothers.
As the two retainers of the crown vanished into the darkness, Robert Stafford smirked.
Now I have them all, he thought.
He went over to the band of men, who were now hiding in a bush.
"My lads," he said, "You have done well this evening! Here's the gold I promised you!"
With that, he removed his own purse and threw its contents to the muddy ground.
"I say, my lord, that you hit hard! Nearly broke my nose!" remarked one of the thieves.
Robert laughed.
"All for the greater good, my friend."
YOU ARE READING
The White Rose
Fanfiction"Accursed! Accursed! You shall be accursed even unto the thirteenth generation of your blood!" The White Rose - Edward the Handsome- is as cold and silent, as handsome and unblinking as a statue. He governs his realm with an iron hand, but he cannot...
