shouted. 'Both of you! Commander! Stand down immediately!'
Slowly, Winterburne turned to look at Martell, the two men facing each other, neither prepared to make the first move backwards. All thought of events around them had been shut off as they stood in their own personal world of confrontation.
'I told you to stand down, Commander!'
Frederick had risen to his feet and had now approached the pair from behind his desk.
Eventually, Martell seemed to hear Frederick's words and the tension in his body left him.
'Yes, Your Highness,' he said, with trepidation.
'You are dismissed,' Frederick said.
Martell slowly turned his face to look at the Emperor, finally realising that he was still talking to him.
'But...Your Highness, there are still matters to disc—'
'Commander,' Frederick stared into his eyes, 'I said, you...are...dismissed!'
Martell paused and then bowed, turning to walk towards the exit but still finding time to glance back at Winterburne with a fierce glare as Draper, clearly having heard the raised voices of the men, opened the door for him to leave.
Once they were alone, Frederick leaned on the edge of his desk. Winterburne pulled a rag from his pocket and held it against his nose as the blood trickled down his top lip.
'Are you alright?' Frederick asked.
Winterburne nodded as he held the rag in place. 'I'm sure I'll live,' he said.
Frederick watched him for a moment and then said, 'You know, I should thank you for what you did last night.'
Winterburne nodded again, and then pulled the rag away. The bleeding was superficial and had all but stopped already.
'It must have been tough out there.'
'It was,' Winterburne said, still dabbing at his face.
'Tell me the truth.' Frederick looked into Winterburne's eyes. 'How did he get away?'
Shaking his head, Winterburne said, 'I do not believe that I ever had a chance to stop him. Not really. He was always dangerous, but I did not appreciate quite how much when I left the Empress to try to find you. In that warehouse, I saw a man possessed, he was in control of himself but at the same time there was a wildness in his eyes. It is not a look I have seen in any sane man.'
Frederick nodded. 'Martell has already ordered a sweep of the surrounding countryside, but I don't suppose we'll find him now.'
Winterburne shook his head, he knew the Emperor was most likely right. He dabbed his nose again, looking at the rag between each dab.
'What are you going to do next?' Frederick asked.
'About Courtenay?'
Frederick nodded.
Winterburne shrugged. 'I don't know what else there is I can do, Sire. The case is as good as closed, from the Watch perspective anyway, now that we have the answers. The man has left the city, he's now effectively out of my jurisdiction.'
Frederick leaned forward and put his hand on Winterburne's shoulder. 'Go home,' he said, 'get some rest. And, in the meantime I'll think on the matter.'
oOo
Frederick sat silently in his favourite padded leather chair near the hearth in their private quarters. He watched Kateryn as she sat on the sofa, her leg tucked under her body and her nimble fingers pushing the steel needle through the thick canvas of her embroidery. She had done well this evening, he thought, and was halfway through the piece of work. He knew how much she loved to stitch and she had put a lot of effort into this item.
Once the needle had popped out the other side, she pulled, extending her arm so that the red thread followed. As she pulled it tight, she seemed to realise at that moment that she was being spied upon. She lifted her eyes to meet her husband's.
'What?' she asked, a half smile crossing her face, her concentration now disturbed.
'Don't let me stop you.'
'Too late,' Kateryn replied, 'you already have.' She wound the thread around the work and placed it on the seat next to her.
Frederick smiled. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I didn't mean to keep you, I know you enjoy it so.'
'It doesn't matter.'
Kateryn rose and walked over to where Frederick sat. The chair was large enough for two at a push and she squeezed herself into the space next to him.
'What's wrong?' she asked. 'You've been in your own little world all evening.'
'I know,' Frederick said. 'Don't think anything of it. It's just that I have a lot on my mind at the moment.'
'Like?'
'Well, for a start, I don't quite know what to do about the two wolves. They've been at each other's throats again.'
Kateryn chuckled. 'I assume you mean Martell and Winterburne. I've not heard you call them that before.' She reached over to his face and lifted the hair from his blackened eyes. 'Have they been arguing again?'
'You could say that.'
'What happened this time?'
'Martell struck Winterburne across the face. In my office today.'
'What?' Kateryn gasped, raising her hand to her mouth. 'No!'
'Truly.'
'Poor Thomas,' Kateryn said. 'I don't expect he deserved that.'
Frederick shook his head. 'No, he didn't.'
'What did he do?' she asked.
'He took it. He is obviously a better man than I will ever be. I think I would have retaliated.'
'What will you do about it?'
'I don't know,' Frederick said. 'But, it cannot continue. They are both good men, but the city needs them to work together. I need them to work together.'
Kateryn nodded as she listened.
Frederick added. 'I honestly don't know what to do.'
He watched Kateryn bite her lip, her brow furrowing, a sure sign to him that her mind had already begun to crank ideas around inside. It was always the same pattern, and a few more moments passed, neither saying anything to each other.
Then quite suddenly, Kateryn said, 'Jam!' Her eyes were open wide.
'What?'
'Have you ever made jam?'
'No,' Frederick chuckled. 'Should I have?'
'I have,' Kateryn said. 'My mother used to make it with me when I was a little girl.'
Frederick was mystified. He guessed that, as usual, his wife had a point to make but he had no idea what she was going to come out with next.
'She always used to tell me that there was a time to keep the heat up high and let everything simmer together,' Kateryn paused, gesturing with her hands as if they were giant bubbles popping before their eyes, 'and then, there's a time to take everything off the fire. You have to let it cool down in its own time, away from the source of heat.'
Frederick's eyes widened as he realised what it was that his wife was implying. He held her face in both his hands and kissed her on the lips. Looking into her eyes, he said, 'You clever girl.'
2
The Seventeenth Day of Midspring,
Imperial Year 2332
Winterburne had no idea what time it was but it was still early in the morning, he knew that much. And, to cap it all, every bone in his body ached, too. He looked towards the window; it was still dark outside and the sun had yet to make an appearance but he could hear the cacophony of gulls crying on the harbour in the distance. That could only mean that light was coming to the horizon, and the fishermen were most likely already putting out to sea, if they hadn't left already. And, if that was the case, elsewhere the city must also be waking up.
As he rolled over in his bed the muscles in his arms and legs screamed in protest and he winced, stretching out his limbs as he lay there. Then he remembered. He sighed as he thought of the day to come. There would be the questions, for starters, and that was something else he wasn't looking forward to; his men meant well, but he could do without it, especially right now. Much had happened in the last few days and as he thought back to his meeting with the Emperor the day before he somehow sensed that something had changed. Frederick had given him the impression that he was being understanding enough, at least on the surface, but there was more to it than
that. He didn't know what it was, but he was sure of it.
Pulling back the blankets, he ruffled his hair and swung his legs off the side of the bed and onto the floor. He was still dressed, except for his bare feet as they planted onto the bare wooden floor. The sleep that had come to him last night as he lay down his head had been swift and in truth he had welcomed it, not fighting the feeling but allowing the relaxation to come over him in a gentle wave that floated him away. He had needed it for sure.
Winterburne stood and wandered over to the table, yawning, then picking up the beaker which still had some of the dregs of the ale that he had drunk last night. He was sure that it was not the most wholesome of breakfasts but it slipped down his throat well.
As he gazed around the room he noticed that it was becoming a mess again; that was if it had ever stopped being one. His boots lay on the floor, near his bed, still in the spot where he had kicked them off the night before. He made his way across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking as much as his bones seemed to be as he reached down and picked up his left boot. He turned it upside down in an attempt to tip out anything that may have found its way inside. He wasn't sure what kind of creature living in Highport might have braved the perils of the inside of one of his boots, but it was a habit that he had picked up after years of living in the countryside. He placed the boot on the ground and forced his foot into it.
There was a knock on the door, the three loud raps piercing his ears. Not now, Alyssa, he thought. The least he could ask for was for him to come to himself and wake up first. He limped his way over to the door; a comical scene, he realised, with one boot on and the other foot bare.
He