The guards—all massive men who dwarfed me—said nothing, just led me to Thorny Walk House. I knotted the reins, slid from the stallion’s back, and with a slap to his rump, sent him racing home. Before the guards permitted me to enter the house, they relieved me of Sir Bertram’s pistol. Luckily, they didn’t give me enough credit to have more than one weapon, and they didn’t bother looking for anything more. The knife remained safely hidden in my boot.
The large front door was opened by another who served Ammon Runihura, and I was ushered into a huge hall that reminded me of Tourneur’s Revenger’s Tragedy: Hell would look like a lord’s great kitchen without fire in’t. It was exceedingly chill, and I looked around, taking note of its sparse furnishings. Was that due to Sir John removing his fa
