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leaf, that stood between the village and the castle, and then out into the open again before it reached the edge of the estate compound. He had been deep in thought and had not noticed the journey passing so quickly and as he continued on a rider approached on the road ahead, blocking his way and haloed in the sunlight. Winterburne lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the worst.

  'Ho, stranger!' a familiar voice called out.

  But the sun was bright as he tried to see who it was that hailed him and despite him bobbing his head from side to side the man's face was not visible. Then, the head of the man covered the bright disc, and the face came into view.

  'What in heaven's name are you doing here?' Winterburne said.

  'It's good to see you, Sir,' Cromwell replied, as his mount drew near. He pulled up the reins and relaxed in the saddle.

  'I don't think you need to call me that any longer, Lieutenant.' Winterburne smiled as the man climbed down from his horse and made his way over to him. He took his hand and shook it warmly.

  Cromwell released Winterburne's hand. 'And it's Captain, if you please.'

  'No,' Winterburne said. 'Truly?'

  'Aye.' A wide smile crossed Cromwell's face. 'Only Acting Captain, of course, but it's a start. I was pleased when I found out, that's for sure.'

  'Well done that man.'

  Winterburne clapped him on the back. He had always known that Cromwell had it in him to make it to the top job, but it was not quite in the circumstances that he had imagined.

  He added, 'I assumed that Martell would be given control of the Watch.'

  Cromwell laughed. 'So did he.'

  Winterburne joined in as he imagined the look on the Commander's face when he found out. 'I wish I had been there when he heard the decision,' he said. 'There is one thing for sure, Frederick has a wicked sense of humour.'

  Cromwell turned his horse and they set off, continuing the walk back to the castle.

  'Anyway,' Winterburne said, 'how did you find me?'

  'It was not difficult. Your Sergeant-at-arms directed me to follow the road to the village. He said that you were labouring in the fields. That cannot be right, surely?'

  'It is, my friend.'

  'Labouring? That is something that I never thought I would see.'

  'Nor I. But it is a long story.' Winterburne reached out to place his hand on Cromwell's shoulder. 'You didn't answer my question, Milo. What are you doing here?'

  Cromwell nodded, and then looking back at him he said, 'Is there anywhere we can talk? I do not think that the side of the road is the most appropriate of places to discuss the matter I have come to talk to you about.'

  'That sounds ominous,' Winterburne said.

  The man seemed serious now, and whatever he wanted to say must be of a grave nature for him to come all this way.

  'It's been a long journey, Sir, and I could do with sitting my backside down on a proper chair and not this godforsaken saddle.'

  'Of course,' Winterburne replied, smiling. 'I'm starving anyway. There'll be plenty of food back in the Great Hall. Let's feast, and then we have all evening to talk.'

  oOo

  'I don't believe it!' Winterburne laughed and slapped his leg as the the two men sat in the Long Hall, enjoying a glass of the castle's best brandy.

  Their chairs were positioned near the fireplace, but at this time of year there would be no need for a fire. A side table had been place between the two men and torches burned in their holders on either side of the hearth.

  He was still shaking his head when he said, 'You made Moore the Acting Lieutenant?'

  'Hey, don't knock it, Sir,' Cromwell joined in the laughing, 'he's actually doing a very good job. Much better than I expected, in fact.'

  'Well, they say that former poachers make the toughest gamekeepers.'

  'And that's a fact.' Cromwell smiled. 'He won't spend a penny of the Watch purse's coin. His best line is ''You don't honestly expect me to spend my hard earned pension on that do you?'' ' He chuckled. 'I swear it's true. The men even take bets as to the number of times in a week he'll say it.'

  Winterburne laughed again. 'I should have thought of doing that year's ago, then,' he said, and then held up his hands, 'no offence, I mean you were doing a good job, and all that,' he added.

  'None taken, Sir.'

  'You still haven't told me what has brought you all out here. You've been avoiding the subject all evening. Has something happened? In the city?'

  Winterburne thought that whatever it was it must be important when a senior member of the Highport security staff was dispatched across country to see an ex-employee of the Imperial state.

  'The Emperor has tried to keep this as quiet as he can but word is already spreading around the city. It won't be long before it gets out here, too. In fact, I'm surprised that you haven't already heard.'

  'Heard what?'

  'Queen Ysabel had declared war on the Empire.'

  Winterburne's mouth dropped open. 'Why, in God's name?'

  'The attacks, Sir. They've been continuing.'

  'I had not heard that.'

  'Emperor Frederick has ordered a large portion of the troops to the borderlands.' Cromwell fidgeted in his chair as he looked over at Winterburne. 'I think he still hopes that the truth will become known before there are any large scale hostilities, but, to be honest, Sir, it looks bad.'

  'I never thought that it would come to this, Milo.' Winterburne downed the last of his brandy, and reached across to the table next to him, lifting the decanter and refilling his glass before taking another mouthful.

  'In truth, I believe that the Emperor is shocked, himself.'

  Thoughts flashed through Winterburne's mind, and then, out of nowhere, one stuck. 'He's sent you to bring me back hasn't he?'

  Cromwell nodded, looking down at his own glass. He slowly lifted his eyes to look at Winterburne. 'He told me that he needs you.'

  Winterburne raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'Needs me? That is certainly some compliment.' He paused for a moment, taking another sip of brandy. Then, he said, 'But, it was not so long ago that he was sending me away.'

  'Sent you? He told me you left of your own accord.'

  'Yes, well,' Winterburne said, 'it is often the case with the Emperor that you can never quite tell what is your own idea, and what is not.'

  Cromwell leaned forward to refill his own glass with brandy. 'The past is the past, Thomas. Whatever happened, it no longer matters. Come home.'

  It then occurred to Winterburne that this could very well be the reason that he was looking for to return to Alyssa. He so wanted to ask Cromwell what he knew of her, and whether she had been in touch with him, but in truth he was a little too scared to ask.

  'Why does he need me, Milo?'

  Cromwell shrugged his shoulders. 'He didn't say, but, I think he feels that he needs his people around him now, at this time more than ever. I have seen the look in his eye, Thomas, it is a look that I have not seen there before.'

  'What look?'

  'Fear.'

  Winterburne leaned his head back against the headrest of the chair. There were so many reasons why he should go back, and Frederick's summons was the least of them. He so wanted to make up with Alyssa, and despite him doing the best he could to get her out of his mind all through the summer days that he had spent in the fields, the ache in his heart wouldn't go away. He was bored, too, if the truth was told, and Robert had set his own life in a direction that meant that he would most likely no longer be needed here.

  'Please, Thomas?' Cromwell asked. 'Come back with me?'

  Winterburne raised his glass and drunk back the remaining brandy. As he swallowed the burning liquid he turned to look at the face of the man that, until recently, had been his sub-ordinate. Cromwell's face had changed, there was a new authority, a new strength of character that he hadn't noticed before. How could he let this man down when he had already given so much in his short career? In his mind, there could be only one answer to Cromwell's request.


  'We'll go at first light,' he said.

  19

  The Sixth Day of Midsummer,

  Imperial Year 2332

  The first rays of the bright morning sun sparkled in the dew on the grass as Winterburne and Cromwell made their way towards the castle stables, both of them silent but resolute. A few squires ran back and forth between the stables and the castle and as the two of them turned the corner into the stable courtyard their mounts were already saddled and ready for the journey, road-packs strapped across their backs. A young man handed Winterburne the reins of his beast and he thanked him, turning to his horse and patting its nose. The horse tossed his head up and down several times as he looked into its eyes; they were bright and intelligent.

  As he led his horse towards the front of the castle, he looked back at Cromwell as he followed close behind. The man had not said two words since they had met in the hallway only a quarter of an hour previously.

  'You still look half asleep,' Winterburne called back.

  'I feel it,' Cromwell said. 'I didn't sleep well on the journey, Sir. The road-side makes a poor mattress.'

  'You'll find no feather bed in any road-side ditch, that's for sure, but nonetheless some would say it's the only way to live.'

  'It's not for me, Sir.' Cromwell shook his head. 'I can't wait to get home again.'

  Winterburne smiled. It mattered that Cromwell cared about being back in the city. The man's character would be stretched to its limit in his new role and that feeling might be the only thing that got him through the tough days that were sure to come.

  As they reached the front of the castle, Lady Amanda waited for them on the steps