Oars ease through the tan water. There is the occasional dull thunk as one of the wooden blades clips the side of the barge, but little else disturbs the foetid heat. The boat is not moving fast and the crowds on either side of the river are keeping pace. If one were unaccustomed to this ritual, an observer might mistake their shouts for cheers.
The woman stands at the prow, barely a breath of wind to stir her hair. If she raises her gaze just so, it is as if she is flying over the Thames, east and towards the sea. There is salt hanging in the warm air even now, a chance to flee, the lure of a dive into the murky water and a swim for her life. Perhaps she could make it to the bank, treading water amongst the sewage and the scum until nightfall. Maybe, amidst the sparse, guttering torches, she could creep ashore. Perhaps she could slip into the shadows of Southwark or into Eastcheap, finding her way past the empty bear baiting pits and the drivers sleeping underneath their wagons.
That is no way for the baying, foaming mob to remember her though. She does not want to live in their memories as a slithering, decrepit thing, crawling for cover in the hope of a life between hovels and haylofts, never more than a careless word from capture and humiliation.
White stonework looms. The crowd’s hollering crescendos. The woman steadies herself as the barge turns. All her life she has been taught that small things have consequence – the coquettish turn of a head in a dance, the playful glance up through a mask at a ball. So is it now. She must be steady as they look their last upon her. The arms of Traitors’ Gate swing open, obsequious in their grace. The Queen’s colours already hang high above her from St. Thomas’ Tower, limp in the afternoon fug.
*Thanks for reading, folks. Image courtesy of Wikipedia. Recent short stories include ‘Panning Out‘ and ‘Seeing it Through‘.*
Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Near to the Knuckle, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father.
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a masterfully told short story: I read it twice: once for the narrative, the second time for the wonderful accretion of details evoking the atmosphere
Thanks so much John. Far too kind as always. Glad I managed to get enough over in a small piece!
So much conveyed in such terse scene-setting; the mounting dread of the journey, and her determination to leave with her head high. Wonderful!
Thanks Tom. Thought it was time for a little dip into the historical genre once more!
“The arms of Traitor’s Gate sweep open, obsequious in their grace.”
Wow, just wow!
Thanks so much! Enjoyed writing this one!
It’s quite apparent that you did.
Great, Matthew. Like a coiled spring. So much in so few words.
Cheers Peter. Tried to keep it compact and to-the-point.
Matthew… you had me at “Oars ease through the tan water.” This is so very evocative. Then it just gets better and better. I have the feeling so much back history is tucked into this piece. I love the details of the “empty bear baiting pits” and the drivers sleeping underneath their wagons. And I love this character’s strength of character. But do please ease my ignorant and sleuthy heart: who is this historical character, so I can wikipedia her? Love.
I had to play a bit fast and loose with years etc. the years Traitors’ Gate was in use so it is probably a mesh of Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey. There’s no Hilary Mantel-esque devotion to historical accuracy here I’m afraid!
Ah ok! Well, very lovely meshing. :)) Thanks so much for explaining and sharing!
This is wonderfully evocative, Matthew! You draw in the reader using all the senses, subtly creating the place and time setting, then we’re slap bang inside her mind. Very cleverly crafted.
Thanks Chris. Hope the smell of the Tudor-era Thames wasn’t too clearly evoked 😂🤢
More the ‘treading water…’ line that conjured up an ‘interesting’ mind-picture… not swimming, but going through the motions (sorry, couldn’t resist).
Classic 😆
Nice blog
Thanks so much. Very kind of you!
Wonderful story full of some great images. Thanks for posting.
Thanks Geri. Very much appreciated!