pointed to the main manor house when Samuel announced his intentions and then went back to their milling around.
The Count came out in the finest of garments as Samuel dropped from Jess and handed her reins to a freckle-faced maid who had appeared at his leg. She seemed to know animals well enough and so Samuel let her lead Jess away to be watered and tended to.
‘Mr Samuel, so I assume,’ the Count greeted enthusiastically. He took Samuel’s hand and shook it vigorously.
‘Samuel, please,’ Samuel returned, as politely as he could.
‘Ah, wonderful!’ the Count exclaimed. ‘You must come in. I’m so glad you could make it. Hillard will take care of you while I finish arranging the banquet. Hillard!’ he called out through the doors behind him. ‘Hillard!’ A middle- aged man trotted out, short of breath, to stand beside the Count. ‘Ask Hillard for anything you need until tonight’s banquet is ready. Perhaps he could show you around the grounds or organise some quick hunting in the valley for you.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Samuel said. ‘I think I’ll just rest.’
‘Very well,’ Rudderford responded. ‘Then I will see you for dinner. Please make yourself comfortable.’
With that, the Count disappeared back into his manor.
‘You sound like you’re from the capital,’ Hillard stated as he led Samuel in after the Count.
‘That’s right, but I was born in Marlen,’ Samuel responded.
‘Oh, really? I have a great aunt in Hayston. Lovely place.’
‘I haven’t been there,’ Samuel stated casually. At least this Hillard seemed more genuine in tone than his employer.
‘What brings you so far from home? Do you have family in Gilgarry?’
‘Not really…but there is one man I was supposed to meet some time ago-a friend of a friend, really. He’s name is Cervantes.’
‘Cervantes? Then you’re in luck. He visits regularly. I would even expect him to appear at dinner tonight.’
‘That’s fortunate,’ Samuel said. ‘I shall finally get to meet him.’
Hillard led Samuel through the overly decorated rooms and halls to a small, yet comfortable, guestroom near the back of the building. Samuel immediately pulled off his boots and lay back on the bed, feeling the tension ease out of his muscles.
‘If you need me, please ring the bell,’ Hillard instructed, gesturing to a small hand bell resting on the bedside drawer. ‘The Count has one in every room-so I may never have a moment’s rest,’ he added with a smile and he pulled the door shut behind him with a soft click.
The room had great blue, velvet curtains and a lavish, timber desk with drawers. A large, oval mirror stood angled in its stand, reflecting one portion of the room. Samuel pointed a spell and the mirror tilted straight. Content with that, he closed his eyes and prepared for a short nap.
He was called to the banquet room as the light through the window was waning. He had only awoken shortly before and had been poking through the drawers in the room out of boredom-they were filled with scarves and lace blouses and not much of interest. Hillard took him to the banquet room, where the table was already occupied by a number of men and their wives. They appeared to be a mix of local nobles, friends and relatives of the Count and they were all heavily engaged in drinking. The room was a picture of opulence-lined and decorated with all manner of expensive works of art. Carvings and paintings adorned the walls while bright cloth banners streamed and intertwined beneath the great ceiling.
‘At last! Join us!’ Rudderford called, somewhat drunkenly and Samuel took a seat next to another jolly and ruddy-faced man.
Samuel accepted a mug of wine and, sipping tentatively, found it spicy but not too unpleasant. He was introduced to all at the table and they each took it in turn to ask him question after question, which he tried to answer as tactfully as he could. They asked all sorts of nonsense about his political beliefs and his choice of tailors and which merchants he preferred, none of which he had any idea about, until he mentioned his milk and they all proclaimed how Lenham milk was the finest in all Tindal and how they had such trouble getting enough of it. Then, there was perhaps an hour of gossiping and rumouring and weightless tales, all of which Samuel tried to take as little part in as possible however they goaded him. Finally, the food was carried out by a plethora of nimble-footed servants.
‘It is my pleasure,’ Rudderford slurred, using his wife’s shoulder to help him up, ‘to announce our guest of honour.’
Samuel stood and waved his hand modestly to the cheers from the drunken table as they clanged their mugs together and swallowed their wine. As he stood, he suddenly realised he had drunk more wine than he realised, for his legs were somewhat unsteady beneath him. He had failed to notice the servants topping up his cup after every time he had taken a sip.
‘Who is he again?’ an older, overweight man called from the end of the table. ‘What does he do?’
‘I am Samuel, Sir,’ Samuel explained, his lips feeling a little thick.
The man looked to his neighbours, still obviously confused, until Count Rudderford clarified the situation. ‘He disposed of those dreadful brigands in the hills.’
‘Good show then!’ the older man called out. ‘Damned brigands! That will teach them!’
Just then, a musician strode out before the table and began plucking some kind of exotic stringed instrument that he placed on his lap, accompanying it with a song. He had a pleasant voice and so Samuel turned to watch him. The man was singing the ballad of a local hero and Samuel found the tune quite pleasant. As the musician played on, the main doors at the end of the dining hall opened and another man, whom Samuel knew all too well, walked in. Samuel’s face felt frozen with shock and he wished he could think of some way to hide, but he was bolted to the spot and could only stare in disbelief.
‘Ah, here is Mr Cervantes!’ Rudderford called and the music stopped as all heads turned to watch the newcomer stride in and take a vacant seat at the far end of the table.
Samuel’s dreadful surprise was well founded, for he most definitely knew the man. It was Master Ash. He looked somewhat weather-beaten and dishevelled, with his hair grown into a tangled scruff and with a chin full of grey-tainted stubble, but it was most certainly the same man.
He began methodically filling his plate with slices of meat and, when he noticed Samuel, he slowed for the briefest instant, a smile creeping onto his face.
‘I see the hero of the hour has arrived,’ Master Ash spoke out.
‘What’s that?’ Rudderford called out. ‘Do you know each other?’
‘Oh, not at all,’ Master Ash declared, ‘but this young champion sticks out like a sore thumb, compared to you lot of useless inebriates.’
‘Wonderful, Cervantes!’ Rudderford roared drunkenly, gnawing on a ham bone.
‘So you managed to kill a mob of brigands I hear,’ Ash called out to Samuel. ‘What a fine job. How many was it? Ten? Twenty?’
‘Just six,’ Samuel replied. ‘But your face seems familiar. Have we ever met before?’
‘I doubt it,’ Ash said sourly. ‘I would have remembered.’
Samuel almost believed that Ash truly did not recognise him, for the man’s attention was focussed squarely on his meal as he cut at it and shovelled it into his mouth with vigour. He may not have remembered Samuel, but for Samuel there was no mistaking that distinctive aura-somehow strange and misplaced. Even without such unique energy, Samuel could never fail to recognise the man, for his visage was burned into Samuel’s memory like the face of his own mother screaming on the night she was killed. Samuel just could not believe that he had met Ash here, on the farthest edge of the Empire. Furthermore, he could not believe that Soddan had failed to mention that Ash was, in fact, Mr Cervantes. It seemed too far-fetched to be any kind of coincidence.
‘And how goes your work today, Mr Cervantes?’ Rudderford asked, leaning over and grabbing at some roast potatoes with his hands.
Ash grew a thin-lipped smile as he looked to the Count. ‘A minor obstruction,’ he replied. ‘Nothing we could not overcome.’
‘So, the men are at work once more?’
‘Yes,’ Ash said. ‘I can be most persuasive when I want to. I think it must be my strikingly handsome
