bleak a morning as ever I had witnessed before. The sun was just rising, though the mist was impenetrable, and washed the grove like a dream.
Already waiting was Doctor Oldfield, who had with him his surgical box and a look of pity about him that caused me to be unable to meet his gaze. We stood in silence for some moments, the cold numbing us direly, and then from the trees, just as the church bell marked eight O'clock, came Mr. Sobel's second, followed by Mr. Sobel himself.
They came to us with dignity and uttered not a word. The pistol case was opened and Oscar chose his piece, expertly examining it and checking the barrel. Even the way he held the thing reminded me of his past career, and I took my weapon with shaking hands and stepped away from the doctor.
“Gentleman,” Doctor Oldfield said in a voice that betrayed his regret, “Will this be resolved, for the sake of God and all our souls, by mutual words of pardon?”
Oscar looked at me with his mocking eyes and said, matter-of-factly, “It will not.”
“David?” The doctor said expectantly.
I remained in Oscar's gazed and replied, “I'm sorry, Doctor, my honour forbids it.”
The doctor sighed and coughed briefly. “Very well. Gentlemen. You will each turn and take ten paces.”
I did so, the swish of the grass under my feet and the dew it sprayed was most vivid to my mind. All around I became aware of the chirruping birds and I almost grasped the clarity of sight that I now know to be true. I was almost aware that none of it mattered, there was no need for such foolish bravado.
But still I walked, and turned, and waited. Oscar had already walked his paces and was facing me, wanting the affair to be over with so he could continue his business. He seemed to not even care that the constabulary would come for him once they learned of what had transpired.
“Raise your pistols,”
I trembled fiercely. I supposed this to be the moment of my death and I was frightful of what was to follow. We raised our pistols.
“Fire!”
The blast of smoke and crack of shot lingered, echoing in the grove, I wondered if I were dead, that I might cast my gaze downward and see my crippled body laying in the dew, but it was not so.
Both Oscar and I were still standing, I lowered my pistol and looked to MacCourighn, who was holding his breath as though expecting me to drop down dead any moment.
Doctor Oldfield looked from me to Oscar, then began to walk toward him. I turned my attention back to Oscar, who staggered and dropped to his knees, blood on his lips.
I couldn't grasp for a moment what had happened, though the sight of Mr. Sobel's second turning tail and running back into the trees brought the reality of the situation crashing down upon me like an engine.
I lost my breath, and stepped towards the doctor as though I were suddenly intoxicated. My senses were adrift and I was lost to grapple with them. I dropped my pistol in the grass and found myself standing over the doctor and Mr. Sobel.
“The shot's entered between the ribs,” the doctor was saying, though I was concentrating on Mr. Sobel's shocked expression, and when the captain took my arm to lead me away with all haste, I looked at the blood upon his jacket, just above the stomach and all I could say was, “what a shame.”
We traipsed across the wet grove, MacCourighn supporting me as though I had indeed been injured, though when I came to my senses, closer to home, I thanked him and assured him I was well.
“You lucky bastard!” he had been saying all the way, though it was only now that I heard him.
“I shot him,”
“You certainly did, right in the breast!”
“But,”
“No time for that now, Davey, we can talk in the 'coach.”
At my home I bade farewell to my maidservant and collected my luggage. The driver fastened it to the roof as securely as time would permit, then we made good our flight. The driver whipped the horses and roared at them to kick their feet, and we rocked violently in the carriage as we exited the village.
“What did I tell you, Davey? God saw you right.”
I nodded, but was focused on the implications of what I had done. Mr. Sobel's second was by now most definitely with the Abingtowne constabulary, and a hasty resolve would be made to bring us to justice. For what I had done I was now banished from the city, just as MacCourighn was.
He laughed at my apology, and said that if he never saw the 'beggars dirty ring piece of-a-city again it would be too soon. “I only come to Grantaburgh to rob you, I can do that wherever you end up feathering your nest.”
As we thundered toward Grantaburgh upon the main thoroughfare, I watched The Wilderness below, it's vast expanse of trees and rolling meadows of green. I thought of the dead that thronged those beautiful meadows, and considered that Oscar would be given a dignified burial outside Abingtowne's Wall, a tomb and a slab of marble commemorating his life. I could not now expect any such thing.
I leant from the window, watching the road behind us, expecting constabulary and their black steeds to roar into view at any moment, but they never came. Even when we slowed and joined the traffic of the city, passing under the great eastern gate, there was no one following us and we made our way to Catchpenny and The Temerarious with more confidence.
I was astounded by MacCourighn's organisation, we arrived to be greeted by a ready ship. It normally takes days to prepare a vessel of such magnitude to be fit for sail, though his accomplished crew were prepared and waiting for us, cables in hand and ready for the off.
I wished my driver well, and offered him all the money upon my person. He declined and assured me it was his honour to have served me, thanking me in turn for the letter of recommendation I had written for his next employer, whomever that might be.
Our feet had barely touched deck before the gang plank was lifted and all hands began to shout at one another to prepare themselves, and with the slow grace of a swan, The Temerarious drifted away from the dock and idled downstream towards the northern gates, and then the open river which, after a two day journey, lead to the ocean via the port of Kingsburgh.
We passed my factory slowly, its windows blazing with sunlight in succession as we sailed onwards. I had left instructions for the owner of the neighbouring business to continue it's operation in his own name.
All the while I watched the docks, still expecting to see black steeds to appear, ridden by the dark arm of the law, but none appeared to my relief. I wouldn't rest easy until we were beyond The Wall, however, where the Grantaburgh constabulary's jurisdiction held no sway on the water. In the rest of the nation both I and MacCourighn would be ever mindful of the Imperial Guard, whom had power over the entire kingdom.
The labourers of the docks continued to bustle and the gulls continued to screech, all of them unaware of what had occurred that morning.
I was concerned that the crew could be mindful of the situation, and harassed myself that one among them may turn me in to the law to save his skin, for all who aided our escape were culpable, though MacCourighn assured me they were informed of nothing and would follow him into the maw of hell without reason should he ask it of them.
This assuaged me somewhat, though I continued to scan the riversides until the captain insisted I join him in his cabin for a drink to steady my nerves.
“Where are you set for?” I asked, trying with all my will to hold a focused conversation.
MacCourighn looked at me and scratched his thick beard, then led me to a grand mahogany table. Upon it was a large map of the world. He slid the compasses and rules from the table with his forearm and offered his hand to it, as though presenting me a wondrous meal.
“The sea is our safety. We sail in search of the North East Passage.”
“The Nor...That's just a myth,” I found myself saying, though I knew nothing on the subject in reality, I spoke only that which I had heard from the factory floor.
“The Dutch don't seem to think so, my boy, they left a little over a week ago and I have a document he
re that tells me all they know.”
I knew enough to understand the importance of discovering the fabled North East Passage. It would cut thousands of miles off the treacherous journey to the profitable Spice Islands of the Far East, where all the profits of Europe originated.
“Listen, Davey, why don't you join us? You were a skilled hand back in your day,” he prod me harshly in the stomach, “and I can shift that belly you've acquired over the years. You can recoup your fortune and start again, somewhere where it's not so bloody miserable. What say you?”
I was sorely tempted to join him and disappear into the uncharted world, though I told him I would need to give it some thought. He shrugged and told me I was a fool not to jump at the chance, but offered me a flask of rum anyway. I drank without hesitation to stop my hands from shaking so.
And for the next hours we spoke of the future and what I might do should I not join his crew. I had a mind to leave the galley at the port of Kingsburgh, where trade was a hundred times more profitable than in Grantaburgh.
“Still a bit close to home,” MacCourighn warned. “You might change your name but you're a linen merchant at heart, and they'll know that, whichever authority might come knocking.”
“ Hull, then,” I shrugged, “The trade there is more fruitful still!”
“Aye, you're right about that, Davey,” he sighed, filling his flask with rum. “You're right about that!”
His disappointment wasn't easily overlooked, and