“Charles Maximilian Pachaly, the seventh Pachaly to inherit the throne of Feldland.”
“Never heard of it.”
“We’re a small kingdom near Austria.”
“Still never heard of it, but I was warned that you lie, so let’s agree at least not to tell such grandiose whoppers. I’ll call you Charley.”
The boy gasped. “I could have you beheaded for such insolence! My father certainly would have.”
Montgomery wasn’t impressed. “Want to take after him, do you? I suppose he’s a king, too?”
A curt, albeit sad nod. “He was killed in the rebellion. I was secreted out of the country to take refuge here. My father was an old friend of your Regent’s father, though the king is too ill to remember.”
“Just so you know, I’m not believing any of this and an in-depth explanation is bound to trip you up, so let’s hear it. I’ll give you a few minutes to convince me.”
“You realize I am not required to do any such thing?” Charles said.
“You realize you ought to make the effort?” Montgomery countered. “King or not, boy, you have twice taken umbrage for no good reason, which needs to stop. King or not, you can’t bloody well act like one if you want to remain hidden. So spit it out. This is the only opportunity I’ll offer you to make your case for kingship.”
“Because you think I will ‘trip up’?”
“Exactly.”
The boy smiled. “Truth might be forgotten, truth might be embellished, but the essential truth will remain. My country is rich in resources, which is why Napoleon didn’t ignore us. He demanded we join his Grande Armée when he marched deep into Europe. My father refused to support the upstart, but our people were afraid the little French emperor would bring his war to our land so they revolted against us. Father died when the palace was stormed, while I was secreted out of the country. But I still have many supporters at home, which is why these rebels think their new republic will fail if I remain alive. They are determined to kill me and have tried numerous times when I was on the way to England and even in this country.”
“You know that Napoleon was defeated last year?” Montgomery mentioned.
“Yes, and exiled to Elba, only to escape early this year to take up arms again. I was making arrangements to go home when he took control of France once more.”
“I doubt the new war will last out the year. He simply doesn’t have the support he had when he tried to conquer all of Europe.”
“I agree, and the rebels in Feldland are once again fearful of losing power because your Regent sent them a warning that he expects the monarchy to be restored. It was worded nicely, without threats, but still provided powerful incentive for them to kill me. I think he sent the missive out of desperation. I suppose I overstayed my welcome with him.”
Mentioning something George would likely do without approval from his ministers was a nice touch. He could definitely see why George had issued the warning, not that he gave credit to anything the boy had said so far. He was proud of himself for not laughing. But Charley could be a foreigner. His slight accent suggested he hadn’t been born in England or at least not raised here. And his clothes and manner suggested lofty social status. George had mentioned factions and esteemed bloodlines, after all, oh, and national importance, though Montgomery took that with a grain of salt. No doubt it was merely an embellishment the Regent had added to convince him to do the favor.
Still the threat to the boy’s life could well be true, so he felt a little sorry for him for having to endure such travails at his tender age.
Which had him saying, “Buck up. Even a polite request from England can yield amazing results, so we just need to keep you alive until the new war ends.”
“Then you believe me?”
Montgomery gave the boy a hard look before he answered, “It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. I was curious and you spun an interesting tale to satisfy my curiosity, but it’s a tale that shouldn’t be mentioned again—to anyone. There’s obviously a good reason why I wasn’t told who you are, Charley. You obviously know what it is, so you shouldn’t have told me that preposterous tale, which is bloody well much worse than the truth could possibly be. A tale like that will not deflect attention from you, it will just enlarge the target on your back. Do you understand me?”
“You asked,” Charley grumbled.
Montgomery gave the boy a narrow look. “Yes, I did, but what should your answer have been?”
The boy’s cheeks suddenly turned red. “That I’m nobody?”
Montgomery shook his head, waving a hand at Charley’s garb. “Unless we find some rags for you to wear, you’re obviously not a nobody. You should have just used the false identity the Prince gave you.”
“I wasn’t told about any false identity. But one of the servants at Carlton House handed Arlo a note when we left.”
“Who’s Arlo?”
“He’s driving us.”
“Well, I’ll ask him for the new names we’re to use when we stop.”
Charley sighed dramatically. “This effort to safeguard me seems too hastily planned.”
“Possibly, but secretive is the operative word and one you need to take to heart, so consider it your motto henceforth. I’ve been charged with taking us to a safe location where neither of us can be found, and that I will do.”
“I was told you were a soldier.”
“I was.”
“And a master duelist.”
“That’s . . . possible.”
“Then you can protect me no matter what?”
“Boy, how do you envision that happening if a dozen ruffians overtake us because you sound off about being someone worth abducting?”
“Are you referring to the men who are after me?”
“No, nor the ones after me. I’m talking about criminals who will see you as a prize.”
“I think I get your point.”
“About bloody time.”
Chapter Five
THERE WAS A RAP on the top of the coach. Montgomery stuck his head out the window.
“What is it?”
“Two riders following us.”
They were barely thirty minutes out of London, and while dawn had arrived with the sun making an appearance behind them, it still wasn’t all that bright on the road yet with trees on both sides of it.
He told the driver, “Pick up the pace to see if they keep up.”
“I’ve heard your country suffers from highwaymen,” Charley said with a curious look.
“We could wish that’s all it is, but it’s doubtful considering we both have enemies. Besides, it’s a bit early in the day for robbers, with so few travelers on the road for them to prey upon.”
“Why would the Prince Regent appoint you as my guard if you have enemies?” Charley asked.
“Because I’m so good at eluding irate husbands.”
Charley’s eyes lit up. “You’re a rake! We have that in common—I’m a rake, too. The ladies can’t stay away from me.”
Monty chuckled. “Are you sure they aren’t attracted to all those jewels you wear?”
Charley turned away in a snit.
Five minutes later, Arlo rapped again to say, “They are keeping up exactly, m’lord.”
“Then stop so we can find out why.”
He sighed as he glanced at Charley to explain, “Whether they want you or me, or just our purses, they still don’t get to tag along with us to find out where we’re going. Stay put, do not look outside, and put that cloak back over your head.”
He took one pistol from his belt and stepped out of the coach before he drew the other and pointed both at the two riders approaching them. There wasn’t much to distinguish them in their black clothes and short capes, except their clothing appeared to be identical, bringing to mind regimental uniforms, but he knew of no soldiers who dressed all in black. Both men had very long hair, and they’d made no effort to contain it.
“If you’re thinking of robbing me, y
ou’ll need to work hard at it,” he told the two men who had reined in their horses.
The answer was gibberish to him, spoken in some foreign tongue—which answered to his satisfaction the question of who they were after. They must have been watching Carlton House day and night and following any coach that looked unusual. And while George had of course supplied his unwanted guest with a plain, unadorned coach, it had departed from the Regent’s residence before the crack of dawn carrying an inordinate amount of baggage.
One of the men fired at him, ending any further speculation. The shot missed, but Montgomery got behind the open coach door before firing back. His first shot struck the man who hadn’t fired yet but was yelling more gibberish after he fell off his horse. This gave Montgomery plenty of time to pull his other pistol and aim it at the other man, who was desperately trying to reload his flintlock.
But they were both distracted by a third fellow, a short one in a hooded cloak, charging out of the trees on the right side of the road, brandishing a flintlock in each hand and snarling, “You knocked me off my horse with your bloody racket. Drop your weapons or you’ll be knocked off yours!”
Montgomery didn’t wait to find out how that would play out. He aimed, fired, and the chap who was still reloading tumbled backward off his horse and lay still on the ground.
“I didn’t think you were going to kill them,” the short one accused.
“Well, if that had been my goal, it would have been done, but more’s the pity, I only shot to wound so they won’t be able to bother me again. Be a good chap and unsaddle their horses, I’ll tie them up with the saddle straps.”
He saw just a bit of smooth ivory cheeks above a yellow plaid scarf tied around the fellow’s neck and lower face, holding the hood of his cloak in place. This was no short man after all, just another boy. And this one come to their rescue? He was beginning to wonder if George was playing an elaborate joke on him. But the boy had already turned aside to do as he’d been asked, while Montgomery approached the first assailant who had fallen. There was some blood, not a lot, on one leg of the man’s trousers, and he was still angrily spouting words in some foreign language.
“Do I need to gag you?” Montgomery asked pointedly as he dragged the fellow off the road—and came up short. His eyes widened when he spotted the great white beast hiding in the trees, its lower legs feathered with hair that was likely as long as the animal’s mane.
“That’s a bloody hairy horse you’ve got there, boy,” he said, unable to take his eyes off such an unusually large animal.
“He’s magnificent, isn’t he? I named him Snow King, but pretty much just call him Snow.”
“I’m glad you didn’t end up calling him King or I might feel insulted.”
Montgomery swung around incredulously to glare at his charge, who hadn’t done as he’d been told. “I warned you to stay inside the coach. I did, didn’t I? I remember it, so why didn’t you?”
“Because the danger is gone and I need to stretch my legs.”
“Well, now you can stretch them by getting my trunk off the coach, retrieve two more flintlocks from it, and come finish off these fellows.”
Charley’s eyes turned owlishly wide. “Point taken.” He scrambled back to the coach.
“Too bloody late, boy,” Montgomery called after him for good measure.
The gibberish was coming louder and faster from the assailant on the ground. Montgomery turned and saw the man trying to sit up, his eyes avidly following Charley’s departure. With a frown, Montgomery took one of the ties for his hair out of his pocket and gagged the man.
The boy in the cloak tossed a saddle by his feet. “I thought you said you were tying them up.”
“I am, and I expect to be in Portsmouth by the time either of these miscreants is capable of remounting a horse.”
“If that’s where you’re going, you’ve taken the wrong road out of London.”
Montgomery rolled his eyes. Two children, both know-it-alls. He wasn’t going to explain that he was misdirecting the two attackers instead of killing them. They hadn’t spoken English, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t, or wouldn’t recognize the name of an English port on the south coast. They might even have entered the country from that very port.
But while he worked to get the straps off the saddle, he could see the boy out of the corner of his eye waiting for an answer, so he merely offered, “I’ve other stops to make before turning south.”
“Why would the boy with you be insulted by a horse that is named King?”
Montgomery gritted his teeth, trying to keep in mind that boys were naturally inquisitive. Still he had to stop the lad from asking more questions.
“My ward is delusional, imagines all sorts of ridiculous things about himself. I simply ignore it. Now I’m curious. How did those pistol shots knock you off your horse?”
“I was sleeping on his back, which is much warmer than the hard ground.”
“Another one for tall tales, are you?” He laughed as he started binding the feet of the noisy miscreant.
“Look at Snow. He has a very wide back, and I’m skinny.”
“Why’d you sleep so close to the road if you didn’t want to be disturbed?”
“It was quiet in the middle of the night, but I didn’t want to oversleep, so I was counting on the early-morning traffic to wake me. Though I wasn’t expecting pistol shots.”
“If you are on your way to London, it’s less than an hour from here.”
“I know. I went, didn’t like it, and left.”
Montgomery finally looked up from his task. “What’s not to like about a grand city like London?”
“Too many people, too much smoke and soot, and everyone gawked at me as if they’d never seen a horse before. And it took me nigh two hours to brush all that soot off Snow last night.”
“If you were riding that giant shire into town, it’s no wonder people stared at you. Horses that big and hairy are usually only seen pulling large loads.”
“He’s only half shire. His dam was a Scottish mare from Clydesdale county, but yes, she was very tall as well.”
Montgomery took another look at the boy when he dropped the other saddle near his feet. The lad’s garb was expensive, a finely tailored coat, polished boots under long trousers, and the dark brown hooded cloak pushed back over his shoulders with the hood pulled forward to cover most of his face. No cravat, though, just a fine linen shirt likely fastened to the neck beneath the bulky plaid scarf. He’d used proper diction so he must have had some education, but his voice shifted in pitch, occasionally sounding rather gruff. At the age when it changed from boyish to mannish?
“You don’t look like a ragamuffin,” he pointed out. “What’s a boy from money doing traveling alone? Or did you steal those clothes?”
“I’m not actually alone, and don’t ask me to explain.”
Montgomery had purposely asked a goading question that should have offended the lad and made him ride off in high dudgeon, which would have prevented any more questions. But while the boy had turned away from him so he couldn’t see if he looked angry, not that he could see much of his face with that hood he was wearing, he had answered in a neutral tone.
“You count your horse as company? Or do you have an imaginary friend? My sister Claire had one, made us all sit down to tea with it. Even Father indulged her. Two months later, she patched up the little rift she had with my other sister, Evelyn, and never mentioned the invisible friend again.”
Now why the deuce did he volunteer that? Something silly to make amends for the insult? But the boy didn’t comment, he was busy saddling his great beast of a horse and attaching his belongings to it. It suddenly occurred to him that an extra boy in tow, even one around the same age as his ward, might be good camouflage for his little group. And the lad was heading away from London as they were, so he might agree to join them if asked—if Montgomery stopped trying to drive him away with insults.
He went over to the quiete
r miscreant, who must have hit his head when he fell off his horse because Montgomery could see now that he was unconscious. The shot had grazed his left shoulder where his jacket was torn. After Montgomery trussed him up, he dragged him off the road to where his partner was struggling to free himself. He considered leaving the noisy one gagged to delay their rescue even longer, but, in the end, removed the ribbon, letting loose more angry gibberish. He would take their horses instead and have a look inside the saddlebags later. Either way, they wouldn’t be catching up to him.
He headed back to the road, but paused when he saw the boy was about to mount, curious to see how he would accomplish it on a horse that size. Shires were reputed to be the tallest horses in the world, and this one certainly aspired to match that record. But the lad, even as short as he was, accomplished it with ease, hopping up to grasp the pommel and lifting himself high enough to reach the stirrup, then the rest was a normal mount.
“Considering you’re not done growing, I’d think you’d want a horse more your size,” Montgomery said when he reached the boy sitting atop the white beast.
“I like the view from up here.”
Montgomery choked back a laugh, since the boy was looking down on him when he said it. There was probably a grin on his face, but with the light from the road behind the boy leaving his entire figure darkly shadowed, Montgomery couldn’t tell for sure.
“He’s a good extra weapon, too, if I need one,” the boy added. “He would think nothing about charging into another horse to unseat its rider. He would have made a magnificent warhorse in olden days.”
“Know your history, do you?”
“I know a lot of things.”
The boy walked Snow King out to the road. Even light steps like that fluttered the hair on the horse’s legs.
Montgomery followed, remarking, “I should just turn those two over to a magistrate in the first town we reach since they attempted to rob us. They’d have a devilish time trying to defend themselves when they can’t speak English.” He stared at the top of the coach with no room on it for trussed-up bodies and amended, “Too much trouble and time wasted. And where are you going now that you’ve snubbed your nose at London?”
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