Episode V

It was deathly quiet at this hour – and everything was black as brewers’ pitch down here in the streets; only a little fuzzy moonlight showed where the gables slept, three or four stories up. Here and there, snuffling from a side alley – stray dogs, maybe, or a vagrant, or wild pigs. Or just the dances of rats. Who could tell? At this time of night you navigated with your nose as much as anything else: the smell of piss indicated the side streets; the aroma of the gutters told you what sort of district you were in; everywhere of course, wood smoke hung in the air; but if you were in a fancy neighbourhood, then the tang of coal ash told you that.
               This wasn’t a fancy neighbourhood.
               He slipped down an alley, barely three feet wide and let himself through a low entranceway. Was that a dim light that filtered from the top of the stairs? Climbing them, William tapped quietly on the narrow door – locked – from under which candlelight showed as a yellow strip, shockingly bright after the street’s blackness. Pausing for a moment, he listened out; then he whispered:
               “It’s me. Will.”
               A shuffling sound, a key turning in the lock, and She opened the door, throwing comparatively bright yellow light everywhere.
               “What sort of hour do you call this, Will?”
               “No idea. What do you call it?” He smiled and put his hands on her waist. She was wearing her ankle-length night gown, heavy ancient linen, but her hair was untied, falling in soft curls around her shoulders. The night gown was shapeless, but he knew that beneath it, she was not. “Do you have to be up early?”
               “Not especially.” Her eyes met his with that look she had.
               “Me neither.” He smiled back at her. She wasn’t bad-looking, at all. Certainly not by candlelight, anyway. She turned to sit on her bed, pushing aside the moth-eaten wool blankets. He slipped off his shoes, closed the door and unbuckled his sword belt, leaning it carefully against the wall. Then even more carefully, he unhooked the meat cleaver from under his cloak, placed that up against the wall, removed three throwing knives and his dagger and pushed them safely against the cracking plaster as well, before bundling his cloak down next to them.
               “Blimey, Will, what have you been doing with that bloody lot this time of night?” her shocked whisper was suddenly loud, in the muffled candlelight.
               “Business. Just... business.” He sat down next to her; she turned her head to look at him, as somehow the night gown slipped down low over one shoulder. Lifting one foot up onto the edge of the bed, the gown slid off her raised knee too, leaving her right leg artfully exposed. She didn’t have bad legs. Her eyes flashed to the knives and cleaver.
               “High-flyin deals, that sorta thing?” she smiled.
               “Absolutely,” he smiled back. “Buying and selling, big money changing hands, you know how it is.”
               “No... Tell me.” He eyes were fixed on his, as she ran her fingers down the buttons of his tunic.
               “Well, nothing exciting really. Buying stock, selling stock, big-city deals.” He rested his hand on her raised knee, felt it soft and round beneath his palm. “Endless meetings in fancy offices... boring stuff.” He ran his hand down her shin to her foot, then slowly back up again. “It’s very dull, having to deal with all that gold all day long.” She was unbuttoning his tunic now, while also unbuttoning her gown; it was slipping wider over her shoulder now, hanging down her upper arm.
               “Gold? Oh how tedious,” she said, leaning in to kiss him; his hand had crested her knee again and seemed to be somehow finding its way down – or up – her thigh.
               “Quite. Dull as dishwater.” He leaned forwards and her lips met his. “Are you sure you don’t need to be anywhere first thing in the morning?”
               “Nope.”
               “Good. You’ll be needing a lie in.” They kissed, with a tenderness that both of them normally had to hide from the world.
               “Oh, will I now?”
               “Yep.”
               Her hand was peeling his tunic off, as they kissed again; both of her shoulders were exposed too, now. ...And his hand, having somehow found its way gently down her thigh, apparently had nowhere else to go...