Black Jack continues to mull over his fortunate find. The price is a problem. He doesn’t know what ‘good coin’ is for such a thing. The time and effort could all be wasted. It is better to dispose of his find to one who regularly works such a trade. But who will cheat him the least? Is it better to get rid of the gull as quickly as possible, or cross the river to seek out Moll? He chews on his lip and turns over again, stretching out his limbs. He has to see Moll anyway on other business, so -

A long unearthly wail.

The blade is in Jack’s hand.

‘Ma, Jetta. Don’t leave me. Don’t.’

Black Jack’s attention fixes so tight on the door, it takes him a moment to realise the voice is coming from inside the room.

‘I’m sorry… Da… no… Da… please don’t, please, I’m sorry.’

He glances down at John. Small white hands tangle through long golden hair; the brow glistens with sweat. The boy’s eyes are screwed shut, his whole face twitching.

Jack sighs. Just a nightmare. He tucks his blade away and reaches out to shake the boy’s shoulder. His fingers brushes a jutting collar bone, and the pretty thing flinches from his touch with a muted cry.

Jack looks in fascination at the way John’s eyes flickered behind his shut eyelids, then lays back, crossing his arms and shaking his head. There is a story oft told, and one he encourages for various reasons, that he slept right through a night when two of his friends had fought until one stabbed the other. He wishes it was true. How is he supposed to rest with this constant whimpering, and the whole mattress shaking with the curious thing’s trembling?

He turns to face the stranger, leaning his head on his elbow. ‘Come now, you are far too beautiful to be haunted by the muck of this world.’ He takes a strand of hair stuck to her forehead and smooths it back. He slides the tips of his fingers through her locks, watching the movement of his own hand. ‘How is everything about you so soft? Are you a secret princess?’

Blue eyes flicker open. A whisper. ‘I’m John. I’m a boy. A normal boy.’

‘I know, shush now.’

Eyes close again, the lovely face stilled, the lips slightly parted. But the body continues to tremble, the breathing rapid and jerky.

Jack sighs, puts his arms around John and pulls him against his chest. The boy curls up, becomes even smaller, but does not resist. Jack starts to talk, about everything and nothing, tales of wonders he’s never seen and many that he has. Gradually John’s breathing steadies, his body relaxes.

As Jack speaks, he caresses John’s cheek, runs his little finger over the contour of John’s ear, twists a lock of John’s hair around his finger. He gazes at the boy in the flickering candlelight and decides, even if he is being robbed of his sleep, and made an unaccountable error in a simple pick, it has been a heartily fortunate day. Something so pretty, so innocent – whether female or male - will surely be worth enough coin to take him safely through spring, summer, autumn, and the coldest of winters.