An excerpt from JAMESTOWN: THE NOVEL:
LONDON
February 1610
As the carriage
turned into Fenchurch Street, the snow, which
had been drifting down
a few desultory flakes at a time,
began to fall
in earnest, and the driver could hardly see his way. Inside the carriage, a pale-looking man swathed in a heavy
woolen cloak shivered and peered out
at the swirling snowflakes. He did
not relish the
visit he was
about to pay, but
it had to be
done.
“Philpot Lane!”
the driver called out, and under his hands the pair of matched chestnut
geldings reluctantly slowed
their pace. Beside
him, a footman in green
and gold livery
swung down from his seat and called
out to the passenger.
“Here you are, sir! This house right
here’s the one you want. Sir Thomas Smythe’s.”
“I know,”
said the passenger, without much enthusiasm. Seizing his cane, he descended slowly and awkwardly
from the carriage. His right side still pained
him, and he walked upright
with great difficuly. He was grateful to the Earl of Hertford
for lending him his carriage. Lifting the ornate
brass knocker, he let it fall sharply on the heavy
oak panel of the door. Almost
instantly, the door swung
open and a serving man ushered him inside.
“Are you expected, sire?”
“Yes, said the visitor wearily.
“Whom shall I say is calling?”
“Captain John Smith.”
“Very good, sire. I shall tell Sir Thomas
that you are here. He has been
expecting you.”
If
Smith’s side had not been so painful, he would have paced up and down the richly figured
Turkey carpet in Sir Thomas Smythe’s entrance
hall. Instead, he stood still,
leaning on his cane and waiting. Under
his trunk hose on
his right side
was a bandage, and under
that was a patch of oozing raw flesh the size of a man’s two hands. His gunpowder burn had begun
to fester in the ten weeks
he had spent at sea, and now the skin refused to grow back over the wound. Until
a few days ago, he had been unable to bear anything touching it, and since
his return from
Virginia in December he had been
a half-naked invalid at the country house
of his friend, Edward Seymour,
the Earl of Hertford. But after the Virginia Company
had convened for its Hilary Term meeting on January 15, Smith
knew that he must make an effort, pain or no, to see Sir
Thomas, the Company’s treasurer, and explain to him
in person what had happened
in Virginia. . . .
(to be continued)
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