Chapter 9With slight misgivings at the further delay to his master’s request, Gregory hurried toward London Bridge. After all, he persuaded himself, delivering a reply is not as urgent as a pardon for Jehan.
While speeding toward the south bank, trying not to crash into citizens idling their way across the bridge, he tried to think of an oblique message to leave at The Anchor, which would transmit the urgent developments to Rafe.
The more he tried to think of the right words, the more tangled his thoughts became. To his heartfelt gratitude, as he approached the inn, he saw Rafe’s distinctive form standing on the quayside, watching the busy river.
Gregory called his name and stopped before him, hands on knees, panting. “You have news, then?” Rafe said, raising an eyebrow.
“I do,” Gregor
