It was when he heard the split-second hiss of Nathan drawing his sword that Richard realized he was in a bad spot. He was down on one knee in the road. He broke off searching for whatever had gotten into his shoe, and flicked his eyes upward. Nathan was a few yards away, pivoting to face two men rushing from a thicket with knives in their hands.
Richard didn’t need to be a soldier like Nathan to grasp the geometry of the tactical situation. These were robbers, and they were separating, trying to catch Nathan between them.
Richard swept back his coat from where it had fallen forward, and frantically snatched at the pistol on his belt. There was no way to get a clear shot at the farther attacker, but Nathan was turning toward him and stepping forward to strike first with his longer reach. The nearer man, though-no time to aim properly. The instant he fancied that his gun pointed the right way, he fired. The man cried out, and spun around to charge Richard. Richard barely had time enough to get his pistol up to eye level in a two-handed grip. He aimed it roughly at the middle of the man’s chest, as he’d been taught, and fired again. The man staggered, but didn’t fall. Not yet. Richard thumbed the hammer back and was about to fire a third time, when Nathan struck his adversary from behind and ran him through.
Richard glanced behind Nathan, to see what had become of the first robber. He would never threaten anyone again. He was lying in a heap. Richard turned his weapon aside and carefully lowered the hammer.
Nathan did no such thing. Without a moment’s pause he freed his sword and whirled to face the bushes again, poised to thrust or slash at need. He snapped, “Let’s be away, Richard. There could be another in hiding.”
Richard leapt to his feet with his traveling bag in one hand and his gun still in the other, hurrying to keep up. Nathan was watching over his shoulder as much as he was looking at the road ahead. Finally he slowed after a couple of hundred yards, where the view was open on either side. He looked over to Richard.
“That wasn’t badly done, for a cloistered scholar. I think perhaps you saved my life just now.”
“You saved mine, for certain. It seemed to me that you drew before those men even appeared.”
“I did. I misliked the place. Those bushes were too thick and too close to the road. There was that stretch of mire we’d just passed, where we couldn’t have run with any sort of burden. It seemed a perfect spot for an ambush. So I put my hand to my sword. Then I heard a sound from within the bushes. I didn’t wait to see what would come out.”
“And so you ambushed them instead.”
“We were unreasonably lucky. They were stupid, and they were most likely new to this game. They should have run when they saw my sword at the ready.”
“Perhaps they were afraid you’d follow them into the thicket and take them from behind.”
“Then I’d have been the fool. There was no way to know whether I’d run straight into more of them. And that one you kept from my back should have known that a good many travelers carry pistols that can shoot more than once, leaving aside that fancy little German revolver you carry.
“And, Richard?”
“Yes?”
“You won’t stop beside any more such places, will you? Whatever poets may imagine, soldiers really don’t crave such excitement. After three years in the Germanies with hardly a scratch, it would be embarrassing to be killed by a pair of clumsy louts like those.”
“No, Nathan. Learning lessons is what I do.”
“I’m profoundly relieved to hear it. Well, it’s not over five miles from this place to my family’s home. Perhaps you’ll stop with us for some moments before you go on to Cambridge. I think my father would be most interested to hear the things you’ve been telling me, and he could surely find some wine that would be to your liking.”
Nathan led the way around the side of the warehouse to the office door. As he and Richard entered, old Edmund looked up from some papers he was frowning over.
“A good day to you, Edmund!”
Edmund Blake stared over his spectacles. “And you are?” He paused. “Young Nathan! Well, not so young any more! You were clean-shaven when I saw you last. A moment, I’ll call your father.” He stepped through the inner doorway. “Master Brantley! Nathan has come.”
Sounds of heavy things being moved came from within, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.
“Nathan! It’s good to see you, indeed! And who is this you’ve brought? A companion from the German wars?”
“No, Father. I present Scholar Richard Leamington, of Trinity College. We met on board the boat from Lynn, and traveled together since. Even so, we lately became comrades in arms, after a fashion. Richard, this is my father, Master Mercer Jeremiah Brantley.”
“Welcome, Scholar Leamington. Edmund, I’ll take these two hungry-looking fellows to the kitchen. Dinner is past, but no doubt Cook has some odds and ends that will serve.”
“Why, Father! I’d think on such an occasion you’d bring out some of the best.”
“What? The best we have cost a pretty penny, and it had better fetch a pretty penny, or we won’t be in business for long. Drink it ourselves…”
He seemed to catch sight of the corners of Nathan’s mouth, turned up beneath his mustache, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Arrr! You always were one for a straight-faced jest. Well, if you don’t have the soul of a merchant already, you’d best grow one quick. I’ll be relying greatly on you.”
“Yes, Father. Of course.”
With bowls of thick stew set before the young men, Jeremiah poured three glasses. Nathan took his up and tasted, and smiled. Nectar of the gods it most certainly was not, Jeremiah well knew, but it was a respectable wine. Entirely respectable.
“I believe your mother will be home shortly, Nathan. She’s gone to deal with some matter with a greengrocer, which Cook wasn’t able to settle. Daniel is occupied with business in Cambridge. We can expect him this evening. He’s been looking forward to your return as well. Though, it may be it’s as much because he’s eager to enroll for the Michaelmas term as from any brotherly affection-he could hardly be spared from the business without you to take his place.”
“Yes, well, as things have come to pass, it’s for the best, for all of us. With the French so thoroughly undone, the army was happy enough to let a good many of us go. I’ll not miss campaigning in all weathers, either. These new generals believe in giving the enemy no rest, but that gave us little rest either.”
“Speaking of fighting, what was the import of that remark about you and Scholar Leamington here?”
“Oh, that. A pair of robbers set upon us a couple of hours ago. He kept one off my back while I dispatched the other.”
Leamington said, “And then you dispatched him as well.”
“I merely made sure of him. I doubt he’d have lived more than a few heartbeats longer. That is, if he’d still had a heart to beat, which I don’t believe he did after you shot him the second time.”
Jeremiah considered, then turned to their guest. “So, you stood by my son at the moment of need. Shall we count you a friend of the family then, and speak as such?”
“I’d be honored. Just Richard, then.”
“I’m also honored, and grateful as well. Jeremiah.” He reached across the table to shake hands.
“Father, Richard and I had leisure for much conversation on the boat. He told me many things I think you’d find of considerable interest. He’s just come from two years of studying mathematics in Grantville.”
“The notorious town that’s confounded all and sundry? Has it upset the world of scholarship as well?”
“The world of scholarship has hardly begun to feel the upset as yet. You might say it’s been tipped up on edge a little, with the great overturning still to come.”
“I’ve heard somewhat from Mistress Chapman’s report, and through acquaintances in trade. I’d have thought you’d still be there taking stock, you scholars being what you are.”