The Blackthorn Key by Kevin Sands Page B

me so strongly just to be mean. He’d needed to make sure I was ready to be an apprentice. “There are many here who won’t be happy to count an orphan among them,” he’d said, waving at the other boys and masters milling around the hall. “They’ll be waiting for you to fail. But don’t doubt yourself, Christopher. The measure of a man has nothing to do with where he comes from.” After that, I’d felt a lot better about growing up at Cripplegate than I ever had before. So, Puritan or not, he didn’t seem so awful to me.
    Still, I supposed Lord Ashcombe, who’d been exiled for nine years with King Charles in France and the Netherlands, had plenty of reasons to feel differently. When our king returned, Lord Ashcombe had spearheaded the purge of Puritans from the ranks of power. Those who were proven traitors—and some who weren’t—were executed. The way he glared at Oswyn now made me think the King’s Warden wanted to add another head to the pikes on London Bridge.
    Sir Edward placed a soothing hand on Oswyn’s arm. “Forgive my colleague’s abruptness, Richard. But his point has purpose. Benedict Blackthorn is the fourth of our Guild to fall.”
    â€œThen maybe one of you could tell me about the Cult of the Archangel,” Lord Ashcombe said.
    Sir Edward frowned. “You think the killer is an apothecary?”
    â€œOur Guild members are honest men,” Valentine said, managing to look even more sour. “And loyal to the Crown.”
    â€œSome of you,” Lord Ashcombe said.
    Oswyn stiffened. Before he could respond, the door slammed open, and in stepped Nathaniel Stubb.
    Rage boiled inside me. My blood was on fire. To have this rat in my home twisted the knife already stuck in my heart.
    The King’s Men grabbed him. “Unhand me!” he said.
    â€œWho is this?” Lord Ashcombe said.
    Stubb tried to pull away. “I’m here to register a claim against the assets of this shop.”
    â€œNot now, Nathaniel,” Oswyn said, looking irritated.
    â€œI have a right,” he said.
    I knew I shouldn’t say anything, especially in front ofthe Guild Council. An apprentice wasn’t allowed to speak without permission. But something broke inside me. Or maybe it was already broken. “You have no rights here,” I spat.
    The Council stared at me, shocked. Even Lord Ashcombe raised an eyebrow.
    â€œHow dare you!” Stubb said. He turned to the King’s Warden. “Arrest him, sir! This boy assaulted me.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” Oswyn said.
    â€œYesterday. He and some hooligan children attacked me in the street.”
    Everyone looked at me questioningly. It appeared Stubb had seen me with the eggs after all. “He wasn’t wearing the oak,” I muttered, and once it dawned on the Guild Council what I meant, they actually looked embarrassed. Under normal circumstances, there would have been trouble. Standing over my master’s body, no one cared.
    Especially Lord Ashcombe. “This is Stubb, then.” He turned to the apothecary. “You had an argument with Benedict Blackthorn on Thursday.”
    â€œWhat are you saying? Let me go!” Stubb finally managed to pull away from the footmen. I could tell by their crinkled noses they didn’t really mind not touching him anymore.
    Valentine seemed to be losing patience with Stubb, too. “What’s the basis for your claim against this shop?” he said, frowning.
    â€œMy dispute with Benedict is well known, sir. He was stealing my secrets. By the laws of our Guild, I’m entitled to fair compensation.”
    â€œYou’re a liar,” I said.
    Valentine’s jaw dropped. “Watch your mouth, boy.”
    â€œEveryone be silent .” Sir Edward spoke softly, but even Stubb, his face beet red, went quiet. “We are perfectly aware of our own laws, Master Stubb. As you should