“It’s much more complicated than I thought,” Matthew said.
“Unfortunately, the surface of that complication has barely been nicked.” Greathouse returned the weapons to their places on the wall. He reached down to the floor and picked up a small brown bottle, which he uncorked and gave to Matthew. “Take a sip of this.”
Matthew smelled the liquor long before it got near his nose, but he had a good long drink of it anyway. His eyes were watering when he returned the brandy. “Thank you.”
Greathouse drank, corked the bottle again, and then returned the pipe to his mouth. “Chess is complicated, too, isn’t it?”
“It is. I mean, at first. Before you can comprehend the pieces and their patterns of movement.”
“So it is with the use of a sword, but instead of trying to checkmate a king and defend yourself from check, you’re trying to kill a man and defend from being killed. Think about swordplay as being akin to chess in this way: both are concerned with taking and defending space. Equally important are approach and retirement, which would be the offense and defense in chess. You are always thinking ahead to the next move, the next parry, the next feint. You are building toward a completion, and you must take dominance of the action from your opponent.” Greathouse let a little thread of smoke spill out over his lower lip. “Let me ask this: how long has it taken you to become so proficient at chess?”
“I suppose…many years. I still make too many mistakes for my liking, but I’ve learned how to recover.”
“The same as in swordplay,” said Greathouse with a lift of his chin. “I don’t expect you to ever become an expert, but I do expect you to learn enough to recognize a mistake and recover from it. That may keep you alive long enough to pull out a pistol and shoot your opponent.”
It took a few seconds for Matthew to realize Greathouse was jesting, though the man’s expression remained dead serious.
“I want you here at nine o’clock on Saturday morning,” Greathouse said. “You’ll spend the day here. Literally, in this carriage-house. We’ll continue the rapier lessons and also add loading and use of the pistol, and use of the fists at close quarters as well.”
That sounded like a grand way to spend a Saturday, Matthew thought. “What’s the slingshot for?”
“Squirrels,” Greathouse said. “I roast them with potatoes and peppers.” He took another pull from his pipe, puffed the smoke, and then knocked the dottle out with the heel of his hand. “Your training is not only to include physical exertion. I want to know how well you can read and follow maps, for instance. Or draw a map yourself, from a verbal description of a place. I want to know how well you can recall the description of a person, and I want to see you handle a horse with a bit more spirit than that old slogger in the barn.” He did smile just a hint now, at Matthew’s pained expression. “As Mrs. Herrald said, you’ll never be given anything you can’t handle. And you might take comfort in the fact that you’re just the first recruit we’ve chosen. There’ll be others, over time. We’re looking at one in Boston and two more in New York right now.”
“Really? Who?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a secret, and for now Mrs. Herrald wishes to keep it so.”
“All right,” Matthew said, but his imagination was already at work wondering who the others might be. One thing more he felt he had to ask: “What about Mrs. Herrald?”
“What about her, exactly?”
“Her story. She told me her husband founded the agency. What happened to him?”
Greathouse started to reply, but he seemed to check himself. “That can wait,” he decided. “Dawn breaks in four hours. I think you’d best get some sleep.”
Matthew didn’t have to ponder very long to agree. However much sleep he got for the remainder of the night, it was going to be a long day. He wasn’t sure his right arm was going to be worth much, either, and he did have some work to do for Magistrate Powers. “Goodnight,” he said to Greathouse, who replied with, “Make sure you wipe your boots. Mrs. Herrald hates mud on her floor.”
Matthew walked back to the house in what had become a drifting mist, obliged the madam of the house by wiping his boots clean on the iron bootscrape at the door, and within ten minutes had abandoned all thoughts of swordplay, chess, and roasted squirrels and fell into a deep and solid slumber.
A polite bell rung outside his door awakened Matthew to a gray dawn. He washed his face, dressed, forsook shaving as there was no razor offered, and also decided he could hold his bladder long enough until he got on the road as he did not wish to yellow the chamberpot. On leaving his room he found a hearty breakfast of eggs, ham, and biscuits along with a pot of strong dark tea awaiting him at the dining-table. Set next to his plate was his wallet and the silver watch.
Mrs. Herrald joined him but Greathouse didn’t make an appearance, though Matthew assumed he had made the breakfast since he seemed to be the cook of the house.
“Take this to Mr. Grigsby, if you please.” Mrs. Herrald handed him an envelope that was again secured with her red wax seal. “I assume he’ll want payment in advance to publish the notice, so you’ll find some additional coins in your wallet. By my calculations those should well satisfy both Mr. Grigsby and the livery stable. I understand you’re due back to meet with Mr. Greathouse at nine o’clock Saturday morning.” It was a statement, plainly stated. “Please take care to arrive on time.”
“Yes, madam.”
“Eat up, then. The rain’s stopped, and I have letters to write.”
Suvie had already been brought around from the barn and was standing at the hitching-post as Matthew walked out of the house. He put his wallet and the watch into his saddlebag and rode away as a few weak rays of sun pierced the clouds. In another moment he found Greathouse standing at the open gate.
“Good day to you,” Greathouse said. “Oh. You might want to rub liniment on that forearm and shoulder when you get to town. By tonight you’ll be in some pain.”
“Thank you,” Matthew answered, not without a jab of sarcasm. He rode through the gate, heard it swing shut behind him, and settled himself in the saddle for the journey home. Within half-an-hour the last of the clouds wisped away, the sky became bright blue and brighter still, the sun shone in full golden force, and Matthew slept with his chin resting on his chest as Suvie plodded the road to town.
Part Two: The Madness
Thirteen
It was unfortunate that Magistrate Powers had consented for Matthew’s appointment with Mrs. Herrald, for on going to the magistrate’s office on Thursday morning Matthew was unable to hold a quill steady enough to write a single line. The magistrate wanted to know everything that had happened and Matthew obliged him, accentuating the midnight rapier “training” that caused him now to be so useless to the cause of scribing.
“Off with you, then,” Powers advised. “I’ll poach another clerk. You go home and rest.”
“I think I’ll stop by the apothecary for some liniment,” Matthew said, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ll be ready for the Knox hearing tomorrow morning, though.”
“I’m not so sure of that. I don’t think Magistrate Mackfinay has anything on his docket. I’ll ask if I might borrow his clerk.” Powers waved him out the door. “You just rest your arm.”
“Thank you, sir. I will try to do my job tomorrow.”
“If not, not. Don’t worry yourself about it.” He looked at Matthew appreciatively. “I’m pleased I could help you start on a new course. Your being chosen by Mrs. Herrald for this position shines just as much a light on me as it does on you. And I’m certain she’ll get her money’s worth. They are going to pay you well, aren’t they?”
“We haven’t actually talked about the figures.”
“Seems to me you may need a bit of legal representation yourself. If you want a proper contract drawn up, I’ll be glad to advise.”
“Thank you.” Matthew was about to leave, but he hesitated at the door.
“Something else?” Powers looked up from his papers.
“Yes sir. I was wondering about Mrs. Herrald. Do you know anything more about her?”
“Such as?”
“You mentioned that you both shared enemies. May I ask what you meant by that?”
The magistrate spent a moment inspecting-or at least pretending to inspect-the first few lines of the letter
