Episode VIII

Luckily, Richard had gone back to William’s garret to feel sorry for himself, which was probably best for all concerned. And it gave William some time and headspace to run his errands.
               Hammad was leaning contentedly against the doorjamb of his shop, making the most of the scanty sunshine.
               “Morning Ham!”
               “It’s afternoon, mate, innit!” the shopkeeper replied cheerfully. “Where you been, mate?”
               “Oh gawd, yeah, you’re right.” William grinned, looking up at the sky. “Here, where are your lads? Normally they’re up and about by now?”
               “Them lazy bastards, they’ve been dancing all night, innit!” Hammad winked. “All these English girls, they lovin’ it when the Moorish boys is dancin’ wiv em!”
               “Oh yeah, I know about your Moorish dancing...” William sat down on the bench outside the shop. “Where do they do that then?”
               “Wherever they wanna do it, my friend! They’re just callin’ out the tune and the band’s playin’ it, yeah!” Ham started to hum a popular song that had a sort of Spanish-sounding chorus.
               “Yeah, I know that one, everyone’s singing that right now.” It was one of the big changes William had noticed since getting back to London from Northern Italy: everyone was singing Mediterranean songs and doing Mediterranean dances in the backstreet taverns and dance venues. Kids... A thought came to him: “Oh, were those dates alright?” William asked.
               “Fackin lovely, mate, cheers! The missus is well happy wiv ’em. Keep on sendin’ me those, yeah!” Hammad laughed then a thought came to him. “’Ere, I tell you what, my friend, have you heard ’bout the pub down the road, yeah?” William shook his head innocently and Hammad went on. “There’s a big fight last night, innit – load of people got stabbed there. Crazy, mate, it’s crazy! Everyone’s talking ’bout it, mate, you know what I mean?” William just nodded. Interesting...
               “How strange. Well, let me know if you have any more problems, won’t you...”
               “Course mate, yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. “’Ere, that wasn’t nuffin to do wiv you, was it?”
               “Don’t know anything about it, Ham!” William deadpanned as Ham shook his hand. He’d have to keep an eye on things there...
 
Down at the docks, the air was full of the usual wall of noises: the creak of the big cranes as they swung slowly back and forth, the endless screeching of gulls chancing their luck and the dockers’ cheery repertoire of hard filth, all delivered in a seemingly constant shout. Ships of all sizes towered over the waterfront as cargo from across Europe was unloaded with the ceaseless stomp of heavy feet on gangplanks. Ignoring the bustle, William slipped through the red-painted doorway of London’s worst-hidden (and possible worst-kept) whorehouse.
               “Alright Tilly, love,” he saluted the Madame with genuine warmth. “What have we got today?”
               “Alright, Darlin, how yer keepin'? Can I do you for anyfink?” the Madame offered, smiling through a row of brown teeth.
               “Nah, thanks, Tilly. I’m just wondering if everything’s working nicely for you now?”
               “Oh yeah, it’s all runnin’ smoov, now your boy’s on it. Ee’s a good lad is Ralph, keeps ’em all in line, nice an’ proper. We ain’t ’ad 'ardly no trouble since he started.” William nodded. ‘Good lad’ was a bit of a stretch, but Ralph knew enough about pimping to keep the wrong sailors out and presumably to keep the girls suitably motivated.
               “Got anything interesting for me?” William asked her.
               “What, information, you mean?” she replied, rearranging her hair out of habit and curling a strand around her finger. “Nah, not much lately. Had a load of Greek boys come in this week, they was nice, the girls liked ’em. They brung all sorts wiv ’em, oil, perfume, green nuts, you name it.”
               “They’ve got green nuts?” William asked innocently.
               “Well, I hope not, else I’ll have my lot down the apofecary, know what I mean. Can’t be doin' with a fanny full of garlic all the time!”
               “Why, what are you trying to keep away, the clap, or vampires?” She laughed as if he’d said the funniest thing in the world.
               “You know me, William, I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you!” She blew him a kiss. It was quite a good idea of his, William reasoned. Nobody hears more secrets then a working girl – except for priests, but it was harder to get the gossip out of them (although not impossible). And these girls heard it all. William had a smart little strategy here: he’d reap the hookers’ news and in return his old comrade Ralph gave them reliable security in exchange for a cut of the profits – and a share of the girls when things were quiet. Damn it, Ralph knew his way around women, possibly even better than William did – and William certainly knew which end was for talking to and which end was for listening to. ...The Sailor’s Delight, as this place was known, had already provided useful intelligence on all manner of things, from unusual cargoes and shipboard visitors to choice news from the Continent and beyond. It always seems that the whole world funnelled through the London docks. And with it, all kinds of useful intelligence, whether brought intentionally or otherwise. Which, right now, was exactly what William needed to tap into, through a variety of nefarious methods.