Treacherous Roads

Wolsey lies abed in Cawood Castle, his whispers naming the treacherous roads that mire Cromwell's horse and stretch the night into doubt. Rutted tracks slick with mud and rain vanish into shadowed countryside, where floods swell ditches and fog cloaks landmarks. Travelers curse the quagmires that turn miles into days; their threat invades the chamber, sharpening every creak outside into herald of delay or doom.