“Ye’d need to have it backed by a minister of state or ever Portsmouth would let you inside her gates.”
Holles looked at him blankly for a moment, then expressed his bitterness in a laugh.
“In that case I don’t know what remains. Ye don’t need a drawer these days, I suppose?”
The vintner was frowning thoughtfully, considering the first of those two questions.
“Why, ye say ye’re a safe man. Ye’ll not have seen His Grace of Albemarle’s proclamation asking for safe men?”
“Asking for safe men? To what end?”
“Nay, the proclamation don’t say. Ye’ll find that out in Whitehall, maybe. But there’s a service of some kind his grace has to offer to them as is safe. Things being like this with you, now, ye might think it worth while to ask. It might be something for ye, for the present at least.”
“It might,” said Holles. “And, apparently, it’s that or nothing. He’ll be needing scavengers, likely, or drivers for the dead-cart.”
“Nay, nay, it’ll be something better than that,” said Banks, taking him literally.