From the shelter of a portico, Pitman and Coke could scarcely see the Banqueting House through the walls of rain. “Any other thoughts?” asked Coke. He got no reply. “Should we go around to the riverside and learn if Dickon has found a less-guarded entry?” He patted the space at his hip, the straps where his sword should be. “At your advice I handed my sword into the boy’s care, in case we could bluff our way in and I’d have to give it up. But I sense that bluff will not work here and I’d like it back.”
“Maybe the riverside will be our only way in. Unless … Ah!”
As Coke looked out again, the lightning moved north; the thunder followed it and the torrent ceased as swiftly as it had arrived. Immediately people who’d taken shelter like them in portico and alcove ran again to the gate of the
