you ask Master Draper to arrange for the Captain to come to the Palace, immediately?'
'Of course, Sire.'
Frederick detected that the man was fidgeting on the spot a little, a sure sign of his that he had more to say. 'Was there anything else you wanted to add, Commander?'
Martell shifted uncomfortably, drawing his eyes down to meet Frederick's. 'Actually, Sire, there was one other thing.'
'Go on.'
'May I stay when you question Winterburne?'
'Oh?' Frederick asked. 'Why?'
'I would like to hear, from his own lips, how he justifies knowingly ordering one of my men to his death.'
'Knowingly?' Frederick was now interested in what the man had to say. The relationship between the two men was strained at the best of times, but this particular insight was intriguing to say the least.
'Yes, Sire. He must have known that if he did not come across Courtenay himself then there was a good chance that at least one of the men might do so. He must also have realised by that point that the man was especially dangerous after the events of the evening leading up to them pursuing him from the Palace.'
Fredrick thought about the request for a moment. Perhaps it was not so unreasonable. 'Very well,' he replied, 'but you'll have to wait outside. I have other appointments in the meantime.'
'Of course, Sire,' Martell said, before bowing and then spinning around to march towards the office door.
oOo
Winterburne slipped his arms out of his leather waistcoat and threw it to the floor of his office. His hands and shirt were black where the soot had stained them, and he stank of the smoke from the burning timbers of the warehouse. He raised his hand to his face to touch the place where the wooden batten had crunched across the bridge of his nose and he winced, the throbbing pain threatening to consume him.
'Do you know,' he said, looking around the room, 'there were times last night when I thought that I would never see this office again?' He looked towards where Lieutenant Cromwell was standing. 'Or you for that matter.'
His office was still a mess, papers and books were still stacked next to the desk and it seemed to him an age ago since he had escorted Alyssa, wearing the Empress's borrowed dress, out of the building and up West Street to the Palace for the Emperor's Feast Ball the previous evening.
'Are you actually going to go to the Hospit, Sir?' Cromwell said, a look of concern on his face. He seemed to be peering at Winterburne's injury and must have been trying to see how bad the damage actually was.
Winterburne pulled out his chair, the feet squeaking as they rubbed on the wooden floor, and he sat with a bump. He felt weary. Not just the tiredness that came with spending all his energy trying to capture Courtenay the night before, it was more than that, and it was something that he hadn't felt for many years. It was the tiredness that a beaten man feels when he knows he has tried his best but has still been found wanting. For the first time in the ten or so years that he had been in Highport, he wished he was somewhere else.
'I just want to rest for a little while,' he said, leaning his head against the backrest of the chair. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the comfort that it provided, even if it was only for the briefest of moments.
'You have to get your nose fixed, Sir.' Cromwell still peered over at his injuries. 'The swelling is worse than even when I found you, and the longer you leave it the more it will hurt when they come to set it.'
'Stop fussing, Milo,' Winterburne said, waving his hand at the man. 'I'm not worried about how my nose looks. There are more important things on my mind than whether or not I look pretty.'
'Can I get you something, then?' Cromwell asked. 'A drink? Some food, perhaps?'
'No,' Winterburne closed his eyes again. 'I just need some sleep.'
'Then, at least let me get someone to come and take a look at you?'
Winterburne no longer had the energy to argue with his Lieutenant, and deep down he knew that he was right. 'Do whatever makes you feel better, Cromwell.'
He opened his eyes and leaned on the arm of his chair, looking over at the man. He only meant well, he knew that, and he supposed that the fact that he cared was a complement of sorts.
'Get someone, then. Anything to stop you from nagging.'
He looked up at Cromwell and forced a smile although the pain in his face meant that it didn't last for long.
Cromwell looked at Winterburne for a moment, as if he didn't know what to say, and then turned, making his way across to the entrance to the office. The door was still open, and he stopped as he took one more look back.
'I'll be back as soon as I can,' he said, and shot off towards the front door of the Watch House.
'Whatever,' Winterburne said, leaning back into his chair.
The door clicked closed at the far end of the corridor and he took a deep breath through his mouth. His nose ached like hell and if he was truthful he was grateful that Cromwell had gone for medical help.
He listened to the silence, not the deep threatening silence that he had experienced in the warehouse last night, but the safe quiet, like that felt at night with the covers wrapped around him just before sleep kicks in. He felt himself drifting off, and the aching in his muscles floated away to a place at the back of his mind where it seemed they must belong to someone else.
After a time, his mind registered the clicking of the front door as it opened, disturbing him from his dozing and bringing him back to the land of aches and pains. Winterburne huffed inside as he heard the noise. What now? What had Cromwell come back for? His eyes were still shut, and now that he had found a marginally more comfortable position he had no intention of moving.
'Can't you even find your way to the apothecary's without my directions?' he asked.
'You don't need an apothecary,' Alyssa said.
Winterburne's eyes snapped open and he looked towards the woman standing in the doorway to his office, leaning on the door frame. She had crossed her arms and a worn brown leather bag hung from her hand.
'At least you don't when you have me.'
Alyssa sauntered across his office and lowered herself to a kneel beside his chair. She tutted out loud as she checked out Winterburne's injuries, taking particular notice of the bridge of his nose. She touched his hand with hers, and smiled before placing the bag down on the floor, next to his desk.
'Do you have any water?' she asked.
Winterburne pointed across the office to the small side-table that had been placed near the window. A pewter jug had been set in the middle, resting on a similar platter.
'There should be some in there,' he said, looking up at her.
Alyssa smiled again as she saw his eyes meet hers, and she lifted the bag onto the desk, opening it and removing a roll of coarse lint together with a small china bowl. She placed both in the middle of the desk and took out a clean cloth from the bag, laying it next to the bowl. Winterburne watched her walk across to the jug and then return to the desk, before pouring a little of the water into the dish. Rolling the material into a ball of sorts, she dipped it into the cold liquid and stepped across to where Winterburne was seated, moving the cloth close to his nose.
Winterburne pulled his head back a little in anticipation of the coming pain.
Alyssa stopped. 'Don't be such a baby,' she said, laughing. 'A brave man like yourself cannot be afraid of a little cold water, surely.'
'It's not the cold water I'm worried about.'
Alyssa huffed and dabbed the cloth onto Winterburne's face. He inhaled sharply as she touched him, rubbing gently until the cloth came away from his face with the worst of the dried blood. Alyssa washed the rag clean, before returning to her dabbing.
'I was worried for you,' she said.
'Were you?'
'Of course I was.'
'I'm fine. Just a bit battered and bruised.'
'I know,' she said, 'but you might have died in that fire, and then I wouldn't have been able to give you my gift. I didn't get my chance last nig
ht, what with all the commotion.'
'What gift?'
'This one.'
Alyssa leaned forward and gently kissed Winterburne on the lips, being careful to mind his injury. She lingered for a moment before pulling away and then returning to dabbing Winterburne's face.
He smiled, allowing her to continue with her tending. 'I didn't know that you were a doctor, too.'
'There's a lot that you don't know about me, Thomas Winterburne,' she said. 'When you have no coin to fall back on, you'd be surprised what you find out that you can do.'
Winterburne had been so distracted by Alyssa that he had failed to hear Cromwell returning, choosing just that moment to walk back into the room followed by one of the apothecaries from the Hospit situated in the East Quarter. His eyes darted across to the men.
'I must have dozed off for longer than I thought,' he said.
Alyssa stood and looked around at the pair of them, squeezing the cloth out into the dish.
'We don't need you,' she said, to the doctor. 'I'm quite capable.'
The puzzled man looked over at Winterburne and then to Cromwell, who both nodded at him, and then he seemed to realise what was happening. He smiled before backing out into the hallway, taking himself back along the corridor towards the front door.
'I'm sorry for being sharp with you earlier,' Winterburne said, to Cromwell, out of the blue, 'but I needed something special to make me feel better.' His eyes met with Alyssa's, and a smirk showed itself on her lips. 'No disrespect, but as much as I think of you, you just didn't fit the match.'
'Don't worry, Sir,'