“He’d long ago kicked the squatters out and sat on the ornate carved chair into which the late Cardinal Wolsey used to squeeze his haunches every Friday at eight of the clock. He made his way through the throng standing in the low room with the fan-vaulted ceiling and pressed the clove-studded orange to his nose. Not much point in clearing the squatters out if this riff-raff had replaced them. Still, this riff-raff was his riff-raff and that made all the difference. One by one they knelt bef...ore him, the women curtseying as best they could and the men snatching off their caps. They knew that Harrison was not the man who could solve their problems; after him there was another, and then another, but they had learned not to be slow in bending the knee. They had seen what happened when anyone didn’t do that quickly enough; two very large men with shaven heads and leather jerkins stood slightly behind Wolsey’s chair, to jog their memories and to instil in them all the need to show respect to the Constable.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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