She fed him, sometimes, and gave him
a corner of the floor in which to sleep. In return for this he was
expected to steal, to warn her of the police, and to keep silent when
she brought home from the public houses the dirty, hardened wretches
who filled her cup and purse alike.
One evening she had returned with a particularly evil looking
Portuguese, a cut-throat pirate by the look of him, living like others
of his kind under the King's protection, so long as they terrorized
Spanish treasure ships and not his own. The man's dark eyes through
their narrow slits spoke of a malevolence that even his mother must
have felt. But she said nothing, gave him the wine he demanded though
he already stank of it, and led him up to her room, oblivious.
Through the poor ceiling he could hear the clothes tearing, the blows
and sharp curses of the man. But these meant little to him. The
rougher sort were like that, and if his mother minded, it never kept
her from bringing the same lot back again. So long as they paid in
gold and silver, it was all the same to her.
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