Den of Thieves

by William Holden

“Oh, Maarten, yes.” He wiped some invisible dust or debris from his desk blotter, then began. “Maarten and I entered our apprenticeship at the same time. I do not know how familiar you are with apprenticeships, but I can tell you it is grueling both physically and mentally. It is a cruel system, one created that way to build obedience, loyalty, and a strong work ethic. The benefits of hard labor…” He coughed, wiped his mouth, then continued. “As I said, we entered the apprenticeship together but were assigned different masters. It is not the type of environment that encourages friendships, there are four to six young men being apprenticed for, at best, two appointments. It is a competition and nothing more. The underachievers are decimated and only the strong survive.

  “Do you know what happened to him?” I asked, becoming more anxious than I ever imagined possible.

  “It was hard not to know. The whole of the company knew, in fact.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He disgraced his master and the reputation of this beloved company.”

  “How?” I felt my heart sink into my belly and float there in what I could only imagine to be a pool of street sludge.

  “As you said, he was given an appointment. I received the other. After a few weeks, he resigned, said it was for personal reasons, but refused to say what those reasons were.”

  “I am sure it was for a better position elsewhere.”

  “You do not understand. When the Stationers spend four to six years of their time and money to apprentice you, you are expected, more like required to take the position if one is offered to you. Maarten readily accepted then resigned.”

  “Do you know where he went?” I nudged with a bit more force.

  “Yes, that is what made it all the more unpleasant. Our greatest competitor in the printing and book business, Cambridge University. Maarten took the knowledge we so graciously gave him and left us.

  “Are you telling us, Maarten Vandenberg is working for Cambridge University Press?”

  “I have not spoken to the man since his departure. It would be more than my job is worth. We were instructed to never talk to Maarten again, and to reject any further offers from Cambridge.”

  “But he could still be employed with them.”

  “He could, yes. From what I knew of Maarten he was a determined and capable businessman, one of the best in the trade. My guess is you will find him there.” He stood. “Now, if you do not mind, I must make my rounds.”

  “Of course, thank you for your time.” Pierre and I bowed then left without another word.

  “By the look on your face, it appears the lead paid off,” Christopher said as we approached the carriage.

  “Yes, my father left The Stationers and took a job at Cambridge University Press.”

  “That is excellent news.” Christopher opened the door. “We can set out this afternoon, stop by Bishop’s Stortford to check on my parents, and be in Cambridge by tomorrow mid-day.”

  “I am afraid we cannot.” Pierre stood in front of the door.

  “Why?” I leaned out of the carriage. “Pierre, I have to go.”

  “I am sorry, Thomas, it is not possible. You have made a promise to the king to continue your work with Mr. Wilcox. That must take priority. Besides, your absence from Mr. Borgstrom’s magic show tonight will not go unnoticed. I am sorry, Thomas—”

  “Shit.” I slid back into the carriage to allow Pierre to get inside.

  Christopher leaned down and poked his head inside the carriage. “If it is okay with you and Pierre, let me take Sheppard and the carriage to Cambridge. I shall look around and see if I can track down Mr. Vandenberg.”

  “Thank you, Christopher,” Pierre said.

  “Do not worry, Thomas, I shall return in a few days’ time with word of what we found out. Pierre is right, you owe his majesty your word. Let me get the two of you home, collect Sheppard, and get back on the road. We shall spend the night in Bishop’s Stortford with my parents then head out for Cambridge in the morning.”

  Pierre and I sat in silence on the way home. Our fingers intertwined between us. Despite our recent disagreements about Bess’s loyalty, it was a comfort to know we did not need words to express our deep love for each other. I closed my eyes as we approached Clapton’s and thanked the Lord for Pierre and Christopher’s presence in my life. My silent prayer felt a bit awkward. Me a sodomite, in love with two men, and I was saying thanks to a deity, who according to the scriptures, would send me straight to hell for my sinful lust. I felt Pierre squeeze my hand as the carriage came to a stop. His sudden, gentle action had come at an odd time as if he knew what I was thinking. He winked at me before opening the door and stepping out of the carriage.

  As we walked along the side of the building, I could hear the boisterous shouts of several men coming from inside Clapton’s. Despite the early time of the day for such drunkenness, it did my heart good to know that business was picking up. I made a promise to myself to get more involved, once the troubles with Mr. Wilcox and the king were behind us. Pierre opened the door and waited for Christopher and me to enter.

  “Bess?” I called. No one responded.

  “Perhaps she is still at the Goose and Gridiron gathering up her belongings,” Pierre said. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the leftovers from breakfast. “I am starved, shall we try a meal together, since this morning’s breakfast attempt failed?”

  “Please, I shall be right there, I am going to check on Sheppard and let him know his services will be needed.”

  I knocked on his door, then entered his room without waiting for an answer. Sheppard knelt near his bed with the Bible opened and propped on a pillow. He wore nothing but his thin under linens. The stiffness of his prick pressed against the thin material making it difficult not to stare at the extent of his desire. He must have been deep in thought as he had not heard my knock. When he noticed me, he grabbed the sheet from his bed to cover his arousal. His face flushed with embarrassment, or perhaps it was anger at my intrusion. An open bottle of gin sat on the nightstand.

  “Can a man not have a moment of privacy?” He said as he shifted his back toward me and sat on his bed as if to hide his prick’s condition.

  “There is no need to cover yourself. I have seen quite enough already.” I shut the door and approached his bed. “May I ask you something?”

  “Please do.” He kept his head bowed.

  “Why is it you do not feel dirty or guilty at getting stiff with the Bible but you do when it comes to people?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You are correct, I do not understand. God cannot satisfy the desires of the body, only those of the heart and mind. The body needs a man or a woman to ease its urges. That is why we have the bodies we do. We were meant to indulge and enjoy our bodies, otherwise, if we were not, God would not have given us these tools with which to play.” I nodded toward his needy prick.

  “Did you want something other than to criticize my beliefs?” He glanced up at me.

  “I am not criticizing you or your beliefs. I am trying to ease your obvious suffering to get you to think a bit more broadly, but apparently, you cannot.” I picked up the bottle. “Are you sober?”

  “Yes.” He stood and tried to grab the bottle from me. I pulled it out of his reach.

  “Good, get dressed you are needed.”

  “I have already told Bess that I am not attending Mr. Borgstrom’s show tonight. He has aligned himself with the devil, and I will not—”

  “You are needed for another purpose.” I interrupted. “You are becoming exhausting, Sheppard. Get dressed and join us in the other room. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. Thomas.”

  “Good, and pack a bag. Enough clothes for four or five days.”

  “What for? Where am I going?”

  I walked out of his room and shut the door behind me without responding. “Sheppard is getting on my last nerve.” I took a seat at the table, slathered butter on a slice of bread and popped it into my mouth.
My stomach grumbled for more.

  “Has he been drinking again?” Pierre asked.

  “He says no, but the bottle was open and on his nightstand.” I sipped the tepid coffee. “I suppose it is none of my business. His demons are his own to deal with. As long as he can continue to perform his duties.”

  “Would you like me to have a talk with him?” Christopher asked. “Nothing accusatory, but perhaps getting him away for a few days, he might feel comfortable in confiding in me. I have to admit, we have never had much time to get to know one another, but our lack of closeness might be what he needs.”

  “If you find the time or the right moment, it might help.” Pierre nodded as Sheppard came out of his room with a travel bag.

  “Mr. Thomas said you needed my services, sir.” Sheppard addressed Pierre.

  “Actually, you will be assisting Christopher.” Pierre wiped his mouth.

  “My apologies, I assumed…” He turned toward Christopher. “Where shall I be driving you, sir?”

  “We shall be leaving right away and spending the night in Bishop’s Stortford with my parents. Tomorrow morning, we shall be leaving for Cambridge.”

  “Cambridge, sir?”

  “Yes, we believe Thomas’ birth father may be working, or at least at some point did work at Cambridge University Press. I am hoping that you will help me with my investigation, and not simply see yourself as my coachman.”

  “No, sir. I mean, yes, sir.” He straightened his back with pride as his normal flat expression seemed to lift.

  “And please, if you do not feel comfortable in calling me by my given name, at least call me Mr. Baker. Sir, can be used for my father.”

  “Yes, sir…Mr. Baker.”

  “Sheppard.” I stood. “I want to apologize for my intrusion and what must have seemed like an interrogation earlier. I meant no disrespect.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate you saying so.” He turned once again to Christopher. “Is the carriage ready?”

  “It is.” Christopher nodded as Sheppard headed toward the door. “I shall send word once I am in Cambridge.” Christopher kissed me then walked around the table and kissed Pierre.

  “Be careful.” I held his hand for a brief moment as he walked past me. Pierre and I watched in silence as the two of them left.

  “I am sorry you were not able to make the journey.”

  “Me, too, but you were right. I am needed here.” I gave Pierre a reassuring smile then leaned over the table and grabbed another piece of meat. Pierre came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “Yes, you are.” He kissed my neck and pressed his hips against mine.

  “You need my arse or my prick.” I moaned as he unlaced my shirt and ran his fingers through the mat of hair across my chest. “Oh, God.” I gasped. My body shivered, my prick stiffened from his immediate attention. Pierre slipped his hand beneath the waist of my breeches and ran his fingers over my stiffening prick. I felt his finger wrap around my trunk. He pulled and tugged me, priming me like a well. The need to be fucked was too great and weakened my legs until my knees buckled. I fell against the table and let him undo my breeches and pull them down to my bent knees.

  “It has been too long, mon amour.” He spoke between heavy breaths as he fumbled with his breeches. There was no gentleness to his actions, he thrust his long, lean prick deep inside me without a moment’s hesitation. I choked on my own breath as the sting of his insertion caused ripples of pleasure to wash over my body.

  Pierre pulled me away from the table, bent over my body and pushed my hand away, which had instinctively moved to my own needy prick. He stroked me and fondled me in fast and furious rhythms to his hips as he fucked me. In moments, we were both gasping for breath and our bodies were covered in a sheen of perspiration.

  “I cannot hold out much longer.” I cried out from the intense thrill of being taken so unexpectedly, and in such a rough manner. He pulled me up and leaned me against his body. His prick firmly buried in my arse. He stroked me with such fury that I sprayed my seed before I could utter a sound. I began to pant and laugh at the extreme pleasure of the release as I covered my face, neck, and chest with my seed. Before I knew what was happening, he pushed me back down against the table and thrust himself inside me as he lost his ability to hold back his release. He spewed his seed inside me. His thrusts were more pronounced as he shot two then three additional quantities. He collapsed against my body, but before we could recover ourselves, the door opened.

  “Oh, my Lord,” Bess said. “I am sorry.” She began to laugh as Pierre and I stood and tried to pull up our breeches. Her face was red, and she held her hand to her mouth to try to hold back another laugh.

  “Bess, I am sorry you witnessed our act.”

  “Nonsense, Thomas. I find it quite romantic. If only I had a man who needed and wanted me so much as to not wait until the bedchamber.” She pulled a fan from her bosom and waved it over her flushed face. “Count your blessings. And from what I saw, you both have a lot to be thankful for.” She winked. “If you will excuse me, I will drop my belongings off in my room while the two of you put yourselves together.”

  Both Pierre and I stood motionless as Bess crossed the room. I let out a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her. Knowing Pierre’s penchant for manners and respectability, I worried he would be horrified at being caught with his dick up my arse. Much to my surprise, I saw him holding in a laugh. We broke out laughing. I leaned into his sweat-dampened chest, enjoying the smell of his musky chest, and the tickle of his chest hair against my face.

  “We should dress.” He said with another chuckle. We were lacing up our shirts and tucking them into our breeches when Bess reappeared.

  “Due to the obvious distraction when I came in, I forgot to ask you, was that not Christopher and Nicholas I saw on Fleet Street?”

  “Yes, I asked Sheppard to accompany Christopher to Bishop’s Stortford to check in with his parents before heading to Cambridge to see if they could track down additional information on Thomas’ father.”

  “I am sorry?” Bess looked at Pierre then to me. “What have I missed?”

  I tucked in the remainder of my shirt as I recounted the few details we had discovered about my father. When I finished, I was in need of a drink. Sheppard’s gin was still on the table. I grabbed three glasses and poured us each a drink.

  “I am surprised you did not go with them.” Bess took the glass.

  “I was going to, but…” I hesitated a moment, knowing I could not explain my newfound status as a spy for the king, but not sure how to explain my remaining behind.

  “But what?”

  “Pierre thought it would be best if I stayed behind. He said I was too close to be objective.”

  “Besides, we were personally invited by Mr. Borgstrom to his show tonight. It wouldn’t be right to cancel at the last moment.” Pierre raised his glass and took the entire contents in one gulp. “You are coming with us, are you not?”

  “No, I would rather not be anywhere near Jonathan. Besides, Crowe has asked me to help out tonight at Clapton’s.” She finished her drink. “Speaking of which, I should get over there. The two of you be careful tonight.”

  “It is just a magic show,” I responded.

  “Perhaps, but anything that Jonathan is connected to cannot be good.” She leaned in and kissed us both, set the glass on the table then left.

  “Come on, we should get ourselves cleaned up. Perhaps an early dinner in town before the show?” Pierre took my glass.

  “And a few more drinks. I have a feeling we shall need them.”

  Chapter 11

  “I think I may have had one too many gins at dinner for that ride across town.” I stepped out of the carriage with the coachman’s assistance.

  “I told you not to overdo it.” Pierre said as he followed me out. “Will you be all right?”

  “Yes, the motion of the carriage was a bit much tonight.” I made sure the coachman heard my subtl
e complaint. “I think I would have been better off on the back of a wild horse.” I patted out the wrinkles in my breeches and straightened my overcoat. The coachman shot me an irritated look.

  “Am I to wait for you, sir?” I heard the annoyance in his voice.

  “No, that will be all.” I handed him three pence and a half penny for the tip. “I think we are safer walking home than letting you take us.”

  “As you wish.” He bowed, mounted his carriage, clicked his tongue, and snapped the reins. The horses took off down the road, apparently with little apprehension as to their speed and the growing number of people filling the street. Several people shouted at him as they jumped out of the way of his carriage.

  “Perhaps you made a wise decision in not having him wait.” Pierre winked.

  “I cannot believe how many people are here.” We turned and headed toward Mr. Borgstrom’s residence.

  “It is all a curiosity to most. Being as Mr. Borgstrom is a foreign dignitary he cannot request payment for his shows. People are not going to give up a free opportunity like this even if they are a bit superstitious about magic.”

  “Why does he do it if he is unable to charge an admission fee?”

  “To stroke his ego, I suppose.”

  “Somehow, I do not believe he has any problem getting stroked.” My tongue was too loose from the spirits I had consumed. I held back a snigger.

  “Are you attracted to him? I wouldn’t have thought him your type.”

  “What, have you and Christopher assigned me a type? All I am saying is a few years ago when I was working at Mother Claps, I would have gone out of my way to make sure I was the one he fucked.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  “I know, and that is why you love me.” I whispered so the others around us wouldn’t hear. While being escorted through Mr. Borgstrom’s private residence, the rumbling murmurs of the audience drifted down the hallway. Large double doors closing off the hallway opened, seemingly of their own will, and exposed a vast ballroom, which Mr. Borgstrom had transformed into his performance stage and seating area.

  Pierre grabbed my elbow. “If you do not mind, I would rather watch from a safe distance,” he replied, pointing to an area toward the back of the room. “Like that corner over there.” He nodded as well, and without waiting for my reply, headed in that direction.