The Maiden's Hand Read Online Free PDF Page B

into the raucous crowd, nor did she wish to stand alone, vulnerable to the evils that could befall her. Despite his devil-may-care manner, Oliver, with his prodigious height and confident swagger, made her feel protected.
    “Watch this,” he said, sidling up to the dancing monkey. A few people in the crowd moved aside to let him pass. Lark fancied she could feel the heat of the sly, appreciative feminine glances that slid his way.
    When the little monkey, garbed in doublet and hat, spied Oliver, it leaped excitedly over its chain. Thekeeper laughed. “My lord, we have missed you these weeks past.”
    Oliver bowed from the waist. “And I have missed you and young Luther.”
    Lark caught her breath. It seemed decidedly impious to name a monkey after the great reformer.
    “Luther is a chap of strong convictions, are you not?” Oliver asked.
    The creature bared its teeth.
    “He is loyal to the Princess Elizabeth.”
    At the sound of the name, the ape leaped in a frenzy, back and forth over its chain.
    “He has his doubts about King Philip.”
    As soon as Oliver named Queen Mary’s hated Spanish husband, Luther lay sullenly on the dirt path and refused to move. Oliver guffawed, tossed a coin to the keeper and strolled on while the crowd applauded.
    “You are too bold,” Lark said, hurrying to match his long strides.
    He sent her a lopsided grin. “You think that was bold? You, who have been known to steal out in the night to save the lives of condemned criminals?”
    “That’s different.”
    “I see.”
    She knew he was laughing at her. Before she could scold him, he stopped at a stall surrounded by long canvas draperies.
    “Come see the show of nature’s oddities,” a woman called. “We’ve a badger that plays the tambour.” Reaching out, she grasped Oliver’s shoulder.
    Patting her hand, he pulled away. “No, thank you.”
    “A goose that counts?” the hawker offered.
    Oliver smiled and shook his head.
    “A two-headed lamb? A five-legged calf?”
    Oliver prepared to move off. The woman leaned close and said in a loud whisper, “A bull with two pizzles.”
    Oliver de Lacey froze in his tracks. “This,” he said, pressing a coin into her palm, “I have got to see.”
    He made Lark come with him, but she steadfastly refused to look. She stood in a corner of the stall, her eyes clamped shut and her nostrils filled with the ripe scent of manure. Several minutes passed, and she closed her ears to the whistles and catcalls mingling with the animal noises.
    At last Oliver returned to her side and drew her out into the bright light. His eyes were wide with juvenile wonder.
    “Well?” Lark asked.
    “I feel quite strung with emotion,” he said earnestly. “Also cheated by nature.”
    Lark shook her head in disgust. For once, Spencer was wrong. This crude, ribald man could not possibly be the paragon of honor Spencer thought him to be. “‘An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations,’” she muttered, “‘feet that be swift in running to mischief.’”
    “I beg your pardon?” Oliver weighed his purse in his hand.
    “Proverbs,” she said.
    “Why, thank you, my lady Righteous.” With an insolent swagger, he plunged down yet another narrow lane, and Lark had no choice but to follow or be left alone in the crowd. They passed flower sellers and cloth traders, booths selling roast pork and gingermen. Oliver laughed at puppets beating each other over the head. He dispensed coins to beggars as easily as if he were passing out bits of chaff.
    After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the boundary of the fair. In the distance they could see the horse fair at Smithfield.
    “We’ll venture no farther.” Oliver’s face paled a shade. “I mislike the burning grounds.”
    She followed him obligingly from the area. Though the blackened stakes and sand pits were not yet visible, she felt their proximity like the brush of a cobweb against her cheek.
    “That is the first sensible thing I have heard