Chapter TenChristmas dawn 1803, low cloud glowered from the summit of Arthur's Seat and hovered a few yards above the ragged cliff-edge of Salisbury Crags. I stood with my feet in a muddy puddle as the two groups eyed each other across a hundred yards of the royal park.
'It's Christ's birthday,' I said. 'It's a strange day to pick to try and kill somebody.'
George pulled back the hammer of his pistol, aimed at a gnarled thorn tree and squeezed the trigger. The click was flat and sinister. 'Every day is a strange day to try and kill somebody.' He looked around. 'What do they call this place?'
'This is Hunter's Bog.' I looked across to the opposing party. 'It's the traditional place for Edinburgh's duels.' I could see Marie standing slightly apart from the group and wondered if I should g
