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Chapter One
“Bear-baiting [sic] was a very pleasant sport to see. To see the bear, with his pink eyes, tearing after his enemies’ approach…with biting, with clawing, with roaring, with tossing and tumbling, he would work and wind himself from them. And when he was loose, to shake his ears twice or thrice with the blood and the slather hanging about hisphysiognomy.”
Robert Laneham, court official, 1575
24 December 1573 AD
Bankside Street across the Thames, London
Bear Garden Kennels
Lucy Cranfield flattenedagainst the brick wall of the kennel and motioned for the three children who had followed her to do the same.
“We will be caught for sure,” twelve-year-old Alyce whispered, keeping her cowl up to cover the scar on one side of her pretty face. “Then they’ll makeusfight instead of the cocks and dogs.”
“Then we’d be gladiators like from Lady Lucy’s stories,” ten-year-old Nick whispered. His voice held a certain hopefulness that made Lucy question the history lessons she’d been teaching the three orphans. And she certainly wasn’t presenting an example of propriety with this clandestine plot.
“Can we keep one of the dogs?” Catherine, the youngest, at six years of age, asked.
“They’ll likely be too large,” Lucy said.
“How about a bear?” Catherine asked.
“Don’t be dull, Cat,” Nick said, rolling his eyes. “A bear would eat you up.”
From the size of some of the mastiffs Lucy had seen battling the bears, a dog might also eat them up. “The three of you should return to Cranfield House,” she whispered. “I’ll be right along after I save the dogs.”And attempt tonotbe eaten.
Whereas the giant bears were prized and so expensive that their masters withdrew them from battle before they could be seriously injured, the poor dogs were considered inexpensive victims for the bears. And if they showed any kind of fighting talent, they were then set upon each other in other arenas. Bear baiting, bull baiting, and dog fights were brutal and horrid. It made Lucy question the state of humanity with so many Londoners enjoying the blood sports.
“Don’t forget the cocks,” Nick said. “They don’t deserve to have to wrestle and peck each other’s eyes out to survive.”
“They’d be cooked otherwise,” Alyce said.
“Rather cooked than hurt week after week, and then cooked,” Nick said.
Lucy agreed. No animal should be made to fight one another to survive. Lucy exhaled long, her heart pounding with worry. The scheme to free the dogs was becoming more dangerous by the moment. Whereas she might be sent from court for her crimes, the children could be thrown into the Tower or the stocks as thieves.
“Let’s only free the dogs this time, Nick,” Lucy said, holding the boy’s gaze until he nodded, although mutiny sat in his fierce frown.
“I have a snowball to defend us,” Catherine said, holding the white ball in her gloved hands. “It has a rock in it to make it sharp.”
“Dirt works best,” Nick said. “You freeze it in water and break a shard of it to put in the center. Once it melts, there’s only dirt.” He shrugged. “No evidence of a weapon at all.”
“Clever,” Catherine said, obviously impressed with the boy who’d taken on the role of big brother to her.
The sound of a horse clopping on the road beyond made them jump back to flatten against the kennel’s cold wall. Alyce held a finger to her lips as the sound faded.
“Stay here,” Lucy whispered, and she peeked around the side of the dogs’ prison. The door was unguarded. Granted, the animals were fed and given shelter against the cold, but was that sufficient reason for making them fight bears or each other until they died? Of course not.
If they wish to return to their kennels, they can.But she would give them the choice. Clutching a bag with food scraps in it, she crept along to the door, pushing inside. She released her breath when she saw the kennel was empty of humans. Several of the mastiffs and bulldogs stood up, barking. They were large with tawny coats and scars that showed their battle prowess. They looked ferocious.
Lucy swallowed against the narrowing in her throat.First make friends. She hurried over, snatching off her glove and pushed pieces of meat and rolls through the icy bars of the cells where at least twenty dogs were now straining to reach her. “Here, my loves,” she said.
There were three to four dogs in each run. She should have asked Nick to hold the door open so they could run out.God’s teeth. There was nothing with which to prop the door.
Saint Francis be with me. Without another thought, she started lifting latches on the cells, letting the doors swing open. She flattened herself up against the bars as large and medium-sized dogs tore out of their prisons, tails swatting one another as growls and barks rose in a battle of canine greeting and excitement. Some of the animals’ backs came as high as her waist.Holy Mother Mary, she could ride one like a horse.
“Good pups,” she called several times but could barely hear her own voice over the snapping and barks. The last kennel held the smaller dogs. She released the latch, and half a dozen tore out to jump between the legs of the larger dogs. Two puppies hid in the corner with a blanket. They looked old enough to be weaned, but not by much.
