Black Cat Weekly #70

Chapter 7

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byCaptain Edmund Winter, hidden in his wool cloak, rode around the back of the tavern to the stables and then dismounted, leading his horse by the bridle. He saw a lone stable boy huddled in an empty stall, finishing his last bite of dinner. The boy quickly rose when he saw Winter, however, and walked outside as if he didn’t notice the heavy rain. Together, they led the horse into the stall, and Winter pushed his hood off to reveal his hawk-like face, black hair, and dark eyes, which took in everything instantly.

He could tell from the boy’s dull gaze that he was simple, but no matter—he saw the lad was gentle but firm with the horse, an enormous black creature. Winter had known others like the boy, those who felt a greater kinship to animals than to people. Seeing the horse would be well cared for, he pressed a coin into the boy’s hand.

“Thank you, sir,” he said tonelessly.

Winter tossed the saddle bags over his shoulder and walked around the building into the tavern. The few men inside looked up with some surprise at the new arrival. With the violent weather making even local travel uncomfortable and dangerous, only a handful of regulars sat around drinking by the fire—men who’d readily braved the storm to escape from their wives and children for a few hours.

A single barmaid, a tall dark-haired girl, was wiping down the counter, and Winter headed straight for her.

“A pint please. And one for yourself, if you like,” he said, tossing coins onto the counter.

“Thank you,” she said and served him a tankard. He saw her curious look, and she finally spoke again. “We don’t get many this late who aren’t from around here.”

“I was going to push on to the village, but the rain gave me an excuse to stop. It’ll let up before morning.”

She laughed. “How do you know that?”

“I grew up around farmers who taught me to read the weather. Before dawn, it’ll stop and I’ll continue.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we don’t have any beds here, but you’re welcome to spend the night in a chair by the fire.” He didn’t say anything. “Where are you from?”

“Northumberland,” he said.

“You rode all the way from there?”

“No, I live in London now. I am riding there from somewhere else.”

With that, he took his ale and pulled up a chair by the fire. The other men looked at him but said nothing. His face wasn’t one that invited light conversation.

It wasn’t that different from a tavern back home. He remembered one night in particular: He and Robert were hauled in front of Robert’s father—the earl—to give an account of themselves. “My God, do you know the destruction you caused? Furniture smashed into kindling and half the men in the village bloodied. This has your hallmark stamped on it, Edmund.” The young men shifted uncomfortably. “My lord,” said Winter, “it had become clear the ale had been watered down. My accusations were met with threats. I’m afraid that it escalated from there. I am sorry my stout defense of principles I know you hold dear caused you embarrassment.” Edmund could sense Robert desperately trying not to laugh. The earl, however, was not amused. “Is this how you plan to stride through life?” He sighed. “Now get out of my sight—both of you.”

It wasn’t that different from a tavern back home. He remembered one night in particular: He and Robert were hauled in front of Robert’s father—the earl—to give an account of themselves. “My God, do you know the destruction you caused? Furniture smashed into kindling and half the men in the village bloodied. This has your hallmark stamped on it, Edmund.” The young men shifted uncomfortably. “My lord,” said Winter, “it had become clear the ale had been watered down. My accusations were met with threats. I’m afraid that it escalated from there. I am sorry my stout defense of principles I know you hold dear caused you embarrassment.” Edmund could sense Robert desperately trying not to laugh. The earl, however, was not amused. “Is this how you plan to stride through life?” He sighed. “Now get out of my sight—both of you.”He heard the door open and quickly looked up, but it was only the barmaid throwing a scarf over her head as she left. She was gone about ten minutes and returned with the stable boy’s empty plate and tankard. Brother and sister, perhaps, the children of the tavern keeper?

The men began drifting off, saying goodnight to one another, and when the rain finally let up, before dawn, Winter was alone with the girl.

“You were right,” she said. Winter said nothing but smiled back and, picking up his saddle bags, left. The stable boy was asleep, but he had done well by the horse, so Winter left him another coin. The clouds parted, and a full moon lit the road to the village.

There was no human company on the road, but Winter missed nothing, such as an occasional deer or fox in the undergrowth. And when he heard the shuffle of boots breaking sticks, it took him only a second to get his hand on one of his horse pistols.

“Stop there, Northman,” said a voice. The man was against a tree on the side of the road. Winter looked around and saw another man on the left, and one just behind him. “Just drop the saddle bags and your coins, and you may go.”

“I’m on the king’s business. To stop me is high treason.”

The man laughed. Winter saw he held a musket. “That’s a good one. But it’s late, and we all want to be in bed. Just drop your bags and money, and you can keep that fine horse. Don’t make me ask again.”

Winter smiled humorlessly. The robber was half-lit by the moon, but Winter was still shadowed. They should’ve attacked him from the other side.

The pistol and musket seemed to go off at the same time, as Winter fell off his saddle, and a few minutes later, there was silence.

Nathan Russet had already started work with his sons, looking after the pigs, when they saw Winter ride over the hill and into their farmyard. Russet fancied himself a good judge of horseflesh and quickly realized Winter was riding an expensive animal. No one but his lordship had anything like it around there.

Winter dismounted. “Good morning. I was attacked by highwaymen a little before dawn. A charming, old-fashioned place you live in, if you still have highwaymen.”

Russet grimaced. “They’ve been plaguing us for months. Sorry you met up with them.” His eyes went to the leather saddlebags. “They must’ve been in a charitable mood to let you keep such fine bags, sir.”

“They weren’t going to. And they wouldn’t step aside. So I was forced to kill them. Is there a nearby justice of the peace? I left the bodies just off the road at a little rise about three miles from here, and someone will need to take charge.”

Russet stared at Winter. “You killed them?” Winter’s matter-of-fact delivery stupefied him. It was as if the man had been talking about the weather. He roused himself, then snapped his fingers at his younger boy. “You—into town and get Justice Brandon. It’s market day. He should be around.”

The boy clearly thought this would be more exciting work than farming. He quickly took off.

“A chance for some breakfast from your wife?” asked Winter.

Russet resumed staring at Winter but then appeared to hear the question. “Of course, sir. You’ll have to excuse me…the missus will do you proud. Come inside.”

Winter ate heartily of fresh eggs and country bacon and, after thanking his hostess, joined farmer Russet by his pigsty. “I commend you on your choice—Essex breed, aren’t they? Easy to raise on small holdings like this.”

“Right you are, sir.” Then hesitating, Russet asked almost shyly, “You know livestock, then?”

Winter didn’t answer directly. “Your boy was sent to get the justice, and it is indirectly my fault you’re missing his labor this morning. Let me help—it’s been a while, but I think I remember.” Winter stripped down to his shirt, and they worked in companionable silence for a few hours, with Russet again and again surprised by this gentleman’s agricultural knowledge and skill.

Farms were much the same everywhere. A summer day out of Winter’s boyhood—he collected Robert and they ran beyond the fields and barns into the forest. They uncovered fox lairs, cooled themselves in streams, and dared each other to climb trees. Then Robert reached for a branch too high and fell…very far. Robert’s left arm hung at an unnatural angle, and his eyes were glassy from pain. Winter didn’t hesitate: imitating an old hermit he had seen treat an estate worker who had fallen off a roof, he snapped Robert’s arm back into its socket. Robert screamed and passed out. Winter put his friend over his shoulder and began the three-mile walk back to the manor house.

Farms were much the same everywhere. A summer day out of Winter’s boyhood—he collected Robert and they ran beyond the fields and barns into the forest. They uncovered fox lairs, cooled themselves in streams, and dared each other to climb trees. Then Robert reached for a branch too high and fell…very far. Robert’s left arm hung at an unnatural angle, and his eyes were glassy from pain. Winter didn’t hesitate: imitating an old hermit he had seen treat an estate worker who had fallen off a roof, he snapped Robert’s arm back into its socket. Robert screamed and passed out. Winter put his friend over his shoulder and began the three-mile walk back to the manor house.While taking a break and enjoying some cider, Winter heard hoofbeats coming in the farmyard. It was a well-dressed man, a local squire most likely, in his thirties and not yet running to fat.

He briefly greeted Russet and then dismounted and fixed an eye on Winter. “I’m Brandon, the JP for this area. You must be the man who reported the attack. And killed the assailants.”

“Winter. Captain Edmund Winter.”

Justice Brandon took Winter’s measure for a moment. “These men were locals. We didn’t know, of course, but Russet—you’ll recognize the name. It was old man Ackley and his sons.”

“Dear God,” said Russet, who explained for Winter’s benefit: “A jack-of-all-trades. He and his sons had a cottage and survived doing odd jobs here and there. Kept themselves to themselves, but I never would’ve thought they’d turn to robbery.” He shook his head.

“They won’t do it again,” said the justice, who kept looking at Winter. “This gentleman here put a pistol ball through the old man’s eye and sliced up his sons. It was a damned s*******r. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He seemed more disturbed than pleased. Winter didn’t react. “What in God’s name did you use to do that? A sword doesn’t do close work like that.”

“You’re an observant man,” Winter said with a slight smile. His right hand slipped to his boot and appeared a second later with a dagger—slim and double-edged, with a small handle and no guard. The justice swore, and Winter just as quickly replaced it.

“That’s hardly a gentleman’s weapon,” said Brandon.

“Isn’t it?” said Winter.

“May I ask what you’re doing in this part of the world?”

“I am working as a confidential messenger for the Foreign Office, on my way to London. I can show you my warrant.”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you. Meanwhile, we’ll need to search the Ackley cottage, but it’s on his lordship’s land. We’ll need to ask his permission. Fortunately, he’ll be in the village today—her ladyship likes the market, and he always comes with her. He’s lord lieutenant, and he may want to speak with you himself, so please remain here.” A lord lieutenant was the sovereign’s personal representative in a county. It was now mostly an honorary title, but its holders still wielded considerable influence.

“With luck, we’ll have you on your way in a few hours, Captain. I’m sure you’re eager to be off to London,” continued the JP. It was clear that couldn’t be soon enough for him.

With the return of the younger Russet boy, Winter wasn’t needed, and he slipped back into the house. He heard Mrs. Russet working in the kitchen, but there were sounds in the little sitting room. He saw the barmaid from the tavern sweeping the floor.

“I thought I saw you come by earlier,” he said. She seemed a little embarrassed to see him. “We weren’t formally introduced last night.”

“Tamsin Mere. I live and work here, but only during the day, so I also work at the tavern some evenings. A farmer let me ride with him this morning.”

“Captain Edmund Winter. You servant, miss,” he smiled and bowed, and Tamsin eyed him speculatively.

“You killed those men—the Ackleys, they say it was.”

“Yes. I gave them a chance to let me pass, and they refused it.”

She nodded. “Did they say anything to you?”

“There wasn’t any time for them to say anything. What did you expect?”

She looked around and lowered her voice. “They’ve been robbing people here for months, so they must have a lot.” Tamsin stepped closer to Winter, and he saw she had what his mother had always disparagingly referred to as a “bold eye.”

“They were not imaginative men. I knew them a bit—I’ve lived here all my life. It’s all probably under the floor in their house. I know where they lived, and it’ll be a while before his lordship gets word and searches it. We’ll find it, split it in half.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Why do you need me at all? Why don’t you go and keep it all yourself?”

“Because I’m sure they spent any coins they got. Still, they probably have stolen jewelry, and a servant girl like me couldn’t sell jewels without attracting attention. But you could. You’re a gentleman. You wouldn’t be questioned.”

“And you trust me?”

“I have to trust someone. I don’t think a gentleman would steal from a servant girl.”

“Ah,” said Winter. She looked hopeful. “But if I’m a gentleman, why do I need any money at all?”

“Oh, go on,” she said, with scorn. “You wear a gentleman’s clothes, and you have a fine horse and fine manners, but if you had any real money you wouldn’t be riding around the country in the middle of the night.”

Oh, she was a shrewd one. She knew the importance of money as well as Winter did.

After Winter collapsed on the manor house steps, the servants came running to see to Robert, and Winter was pushed into the library and forgotten. He fell asleep in a library chair, to be awoken hours later by an amused earl. “My son will make a full recovery. You showed intelligence, common sense, and courage—rare in men and unheard of in a boy your age. It’s enough to make me forgive you for luring him away.” He handed Winter some money—more than Winter had seen in his life. “Give it to your parents. It’s to reimburse them for the chores you won’t have to time to perform in the future. I’ll visit them in the next few days to discuss your future. Despite the money, young Edmund, I daresay your father will beat you for being absent all day from the farm. And you damn well deserve it.”

After Winter collapsed on the manor house steps, the servants came running to see to Robert, and Winter was pushed into the library and forgotten. He fell asleep in a library chair, to be awoken hours later by an amused earl. “My son will make a full recovery. You showed intelligence, common sense, and courage—rare in men and unheard of in a boy your age. It’s enough to make me forgive you for luring him away.” He handed Winter some money—more than Winter had seen in his life. “Give it to your parents. It’s to reimburse them for the chores you won’t have to time to perform in the future. I’ll visit them in the next few days to discuss your future. Despite the money, young Edmund, I daresay your father will beat you for being absent all day from the farm. And you damn well deserve it.”“You’re sharp-eyed and clever,” said Winter. “But I’m sorry to disappoint you, Tamsin. We’ll have to leave it all for his lordship’s men.”

“Bah,” she said, looking at him with disgust. “Who are you anyway, Captain Winter?”

He was saved from answering by the arrival of another man in the sitting room, a soldier in a red coat that was none too clean.

“Are you Captain Winter, sir? I was asked to talk to you.”

Tamsin went back to work in a huff.

“Come, sergeant. We can talk outside.”

In the bright light, Winter could see the soldier was reaching the end of his military service. White stubble covered a well-lined face, and his eyes weren’t as clear as they once were.

Winter led them to a rough bench behind the house and offered the man the last of the cider Russet had given him.

“That is very kind, sir. It’s been a bit of a walk, and I’m not that young anymore. But as to why I’m here: A month back, at his lordship’s request, a squad of us were detached from the West Country regiment to see what we could do about the highwaymen. Well, sir, I was sent to you to make sure they were truly dead, to report back to my commanding officer, and, I suppose, to get ready to head back to the rest of the regiment.”

“I thank you, sergeant, and can confirm the men are dead.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll tell my lieutenant.” He paused. “Your name stirs my memory, sir. During the wars I heard about an officer with the same name as yours. He was in a Northumberland regiment, I recall, where I had some friends, and if I may be so bold, sir, you have a Northumberland accent.”

Winter didn’t answer for a moment, just stared into the distance. “What did you hear about this man, who had the same name as mine?”

The cider made the sergeant garrulous. “San Stefano, sir. My God, that was a horror, no mistake. It was said that the high ground had been abandoned by all—except by this Winter, sir. He stayed on the hill, right in the front with sword and pistol, when the French attacked four times. No one thought his company would hold. But nothing would move Winter. And he said he’d shoot the first man who retreated. You couldn’t easily count the number of Frenchmen his company killed. Wellington himself later said it was a b****y miracle—and told this man, this man with the same name as yours, sir, that he was a b****y madman.”

“I’m surprised a man of your experience believes everything he hears,” said Winter. “Anyway, you’ve completed your task. I’m sure you ought to head back and prepare your men to leave.”

“Yes, sir. I was getting bored with this town anyway. My lieutenant will be furious when he hears he’s been stumbling around uselessly for weeks and you settle everything in a day. Ah well. Thank you again for the cider, sir.” And with that, he left.

Alone again, Winter swore. “The local JP. Tamsin, the maid. The West Country lieutenant. I’m making new friends all over the place.”

Yes, San Stefano had been a horror, but more deeply seared into him was what happened many months later, shortly after Waterloo, when he told Barbara he was leaving the army. “My colonel has a friend in the Foreign Office. They’re looking for men interested in performing some…reconnaissance in the East.” Barbara looked at him with those emerald eyes, her rich copper hair pouring over dazzling white shoulders. “I’ll miss the army. But those battles…fields of dead men as far as you could see. No more.” Barbara curled her warm body around his and leaned over to his ear. “Liar. You want me to think you’re leaving the army because you mind the s*******r too much. But, dear Edmund, I know you too well, and your problem is that you stopped minding the s*******r at all.” He wondered now what had happened to Barbara. He had known scores of beautiful women but none with half her wit. She had no family, no fortune, but he was sure she was married by now…to a knight, maybe even to a nobleman. He wanted to see her, to tell her how right she had been.

Yes, San Stefano had been a horror, but more deeply seared into him was what happened many months later, shortly after Waterloo, when he told Barbara he was leaving the army. “My colonel has a friend in the Foreign Office. They’re looking for men interested in performing some…reconnaissance in the East.” Barbara looked at him with those emerald eyes, her rich copper hair pouring over dazzling white shoulders. “I’ll miss the army. But those battles…fields of dead men as far as you could see. No more.” Barbara curled her warm body around his and leaned over to his ear. “Liar. You want me to think you’re leaving the army because you mind the s*******r too much. But, dear Edmund, I know you too well, and your problem is that you stopped minding the s*******r at all.” He wondered now what had happened to Barbara. He had known scores of beautiful women but none with half her wit. She had no family, no fortune, but he was sure she was married by now…to a knight, maybe even to a nobleman. He wanted to see her, to tell her how right she had been.He joined the Russet family for lunch and local gossip. He was wiping his plate with fresh-baked bread when there was a knock on the door, and a young man came in, dressed in country garb. He awkwardly turned and twisted his hat in his hands.

“Mr. Russet, Mrs. Russet, I am sorry to disturb you. But Lord Barrington sent me to request, that is, to ask, for your guest, Captain Winter, to attend him.” He turned his eyes on Winter, a little nervously. “He’s in his house in the village, as it’s market day.”

Winter brushed breadcrumbs from his hands and stood. “Very good. Mr. Russet, Mrs. Russet, thank you for your hospitality.”

Russet walked him out to help him saddle his horse, and Winter gave him some money, over the farmer’s protests. “I owe you this much for the cider alone. The best I’ve had in a long time.”

The messenger had a stocky farm horse, and Winter could see the surprise and envy in his eyes at his fine mount. Winter glanced around for Tamsin, but she was nowhere in sight. Still, he imagined he’d see her again before he was done.

It was only a mile into the village proper, and the messenger led him to a handsome wooden house in the center. The high street was crowded with villagers and farmers buying food, clothes, leatherwork, jewelry.

One servant took his horse, and another showed him into a small study inside. It was a well-built house but indifferently furnished. Lord Barrington no doubt spent most of his time at the family manse.

The man himself was younger than Winter had expected, probably just past thirty. If he was already lord of the manor, his father must’ve died relatively young. He clothes were fine and fashionable. He’d easily fit in with the elegant set in London. His mouth was petulant, and he was too unsure of himself to invite Winter to sit in the guest chair. Winter sat down anyway, and his lordship frowned at him but said nothing.

“Captain Edmund Winter, my lord. I understand you wanted to see me?”

Lord Barrington fiddled with a decorative letter opener on his desk.

“I understand you killed three men on my land, Winter.”

“Three highwaymen, my lord.”

“Indeed. You look like a man of intelligence and experience. I’d have thought you would’ve wisely stayed the night at tavern.”

“I was raised in the country. I don’t mind riding at night. And I don’t mind having to handle anyone who gets in my way.”

Lord Barrington slammed his hand down. “On my land, Winter. My land. What the devil are you doing here anyway? That’s a northern accent, if I guess right.” He’s embarrassed, Winter realized, unable to protect his own people, and now a stranger had to kill the robbers, men who had been his lordship’s tenants on his lordship’s land. Men his lordship should’ve uncovered and punished.

myMy“I’m a royal messenger, my lord, coming back from a delivery of confidential documents on behalf of the Foreign Office. My warrant.” He produced papers, stamped with a red seal. Lord Barrington gave them a sour look, then handed them back to Winter.

“You seem overqualified as a mere messenger, Captain.”

“I am used for certain special tasks, my lord.”

“I see. And what exactly were you delivering, on this trip?”

“I’m afraid that is confidential, my lord.”

“May I remind you that I am lord lieutenant. I carry the king’s authority in this county.”

“I received my commission from the foreign secretary personally, my lord. And cannot divulge the details of my duties to anyone else.”

“You don’t think that’s rather arrogant of you?” Winter didn’t respond, and after a while, his lordship spoke again. “My steward tells me you ride a very fine horse.”

“He was bred in the stables of the earl of Rockland. The earl takes great pride in his horses, my lord, and gave him to me as a gift. We believe that we’re the only two men in England who can ride him.”

“So you’re some sort of Rockland…cousin?”

“No, my lord. Although I can claim to be a close friend of the current earl of Rockland, Robert. We were boys together, when his late father held the title.”

That confused Lord Barrington further.

“Well. I think we’re done here, Captain. How long were you planning to stay?”

“I thought I’d spend some time reviewing your lively market, my lord. Would you recommend a place a man may buy an honest drink in this village? Or perhaps my lord…” Winter smiled. “Perhaps you would share some of that port I see on your sideboard?”

Winter remained bland but saw Lord Barrington’s face grow red. It had been a rude question, but had his lordship thought Winter a gentleman, he would’ve offered him a drink when he had arrived.

Lord Barrington stood up and produced a fresh bottle of port.

“Here’s a whole bottle, Captain. Take it with you. And be out of my village in the next thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, my lord.” His smile was just at the edge of a smirk. He took the bottle—it was a very fine port—and made a quick exit.

Winter retrieved his horse and led him along the main street. He picked up a couple loaves of bread from one of the stalls and then ran into Tamsin, who was carrying a basket.

“Mrs. Russet and I took the cart into town not long after you left to meet his lordship. We had some shopping to do, and Mrs. Russet has friends in the village. Are you leaving?”

“His lordship indicated he would greatly appreciate it if I were out of the county as soon as possible.”

“You created more of a stir than we’ve seen for a while,” she said. “I suppose this place must seem very dull for you.”

“It’s not that different from the village I grew up in. It too was very quiet. Since leaving I’ve fought all over Europe, Tamsin. I’ve been to the East and lived among the heathen. And yet every time I get a chance to visit my old village, I enjoy it a little bit more.”

“Why don’t you stay there?” she asked. Then, more softly, “Why don’t you stay here?”

He shook his head. “It won’t do. Even as I boy, I always got restless.”

“Well, I shall miss you,” said Tamsin. “Even if you were too stubborn to make us both wealthy.”

Winter chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. But if you’d like, you can walk me to the crossroads for the London road. It isn’t far, and it’s a pleasant day.”

The cottages thinned out. At the crossroads, Winter prepared to mount his horse but then suddenly turned, grabbed Tamsin by her shoulders, and kissed her hard. She dropped her basket. Winter pulled back, grinning, and she started to slap him, but he easily blocked her arm and kissed her again.

“How dare you!” she cried. “Who do you think you are to take liberties because we had a conversation. You’re no gentleman at all.”

Winter laughed. “I never said I was. Now, in Northumberland, the barmaids move faster and I’d get a sound slap, but it was always worth it.”

Tamsin looked at him with hatred and retrieved her basket.

“Now don’t look at me like that, my love. You owed me a kiss or two for what you did to me.”

“What did I do to you?” she asked, and he heard a hint of fear in her voice.

“Come now, Tamsin. You don’t think I’m the same as the rustic fools you usually serve. You left to go outside after you served me last night and were gone too long. And the highwaymen hailed me as a ‘Northman’ before even hearing me speak. How did they know unless you told them, alerted them a rich prize was on their way?”

“I—well, it must’ve been one of the men in the tavern.”

“I didn’t speak to them either. And none of them left in time to get word to the robbers anyway. You must’ve made a nice little living on the side, alerting them when travelers came. No wonder you know where the robbers lived and treasure was buried.”

Tamsin burst into tears. “Please don’t tell his lordship. They’ll hang me—”

“Let’s not get dramatic. It’s all over now. They’re angry enough with me here for killing three locals. I won’t have a fourth on my conscience. You must have a fair pile of coins saved up, and you’ve a handsome face and figure. I daresay that should all be enough to get yourself a worthy husband. Good day to you, Miss Tamsin.”

He hopped onto his horse and, without looking back, headed along the London road.

The earl had summoned him—alone, without Robert. “I gave you an education for saving my son all those years ago. It would’ve been my preference to see you trained for law, or even for holy orders, but it’s plain you lack the temperament. So I will accede to your wishes and buy you an officer’s commission in the First Northumberland Foot, where you can put that temper of yours to some good use.” Winter thanked his patron profusely, but the earl cut him off. “Don’t be so free with your gratitude, young Edmund. I took you from your own people—we cannot forget your father was just a tenant farmer on my land. I’ve made it impossible for you to go back to that life, and yet you’ll never be fully accepted by the gentry. Oh, you’ll make a fine officer, but you’ll always be wandering, looking for what’s over the next hill, looking for something else to sate your constant need for excitement. And doing it alone. Who knows if I did you any favor?” He shrugged and handed Winter a purse. “I can give you a small allowance. But you will have to make your own way in the world. I hope you figure out what you’re looking for.”

The earl had summoned him—alone, without Robert. “I gave you an education for saving my son all those years ago. It would’ve been my preference to see you trained for law, or even for holy orders, but it’s plain you lack the temperament. So I will accede to your wishes and buy you an officer’s commission in the First Northumberland Foot, where you can put that temper of yours to some good use.” Winter thanked his patron profusely, but the earl cut him off. “Don’t be so free with your gratitude, young Edmund. I took you from your own people—we cannot forget your father was just a tenant farmer on my land. I’ve made it impossible for you to go back to that life, and yet you’ll never be fully accepted by the gentry. Oh, you’ll make a fine officer, but you’ll always be wandering, looking for what’s over the next hill, looking for something else to sate your constant need for excitement. And doing it alone. Who knows if I did you any favor?” He shrugged and handed Winter a purse. “I can give you a small allowance. But you will have to make your own way in the world. I hope you figure out what you’re looking for.”He smiled at the memory. After the wars, Winter had made a long visit to Northumberland again. Robert, now married, with two children, had begged him to remain. But something always pulled him away again—London, the Continent, India, and China.

Winter shook his head, made sure the port was secure in his bag, and then urged the horse on, to make the next inn before nightfall.

R.J. Koreto has written six mystery novels, and his short stories have been published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, as well as various anthologies. His latest book is The Greenleaf Murders: A Historic Homes Mystery, featuring architect Wren Fontaine. With his wife and daughters, he lives in Rockland County, NY, and Martha’s Vineyard, MA. www.rjkoreto.com

Ellery Queen’s Mystery MagazineAlfred Hitchcock’s Mystery MagazineThe Greenleaf Murders: A Historic Homes Mystery