The Time Travelling Taxman Series Box Set

by Rachel Ford

  Still, he did sleep a little better, having heard the other man’s perspective. His heart felt a little gladder as he held Nance tight against the evening chill. And, he had to admit, there was something beautiful in the thought that they two, of all the timelines and the worlds, had found each other.

  Maybe that was their fate. If there was such a thing as destiny, maybe this was theirs: to be the couple who made their own.

  Nancy, of course, was not privy to his inner musings. So she was a touch surprised to be greeted the next morning with warm kisses, and a more-than-usual number of I-love-yous. But it was a pleasant kind of surprise, and she smiled at him. “Well, aren’t you in a good mood, my handsome Sir Knight?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “Waking up with the most beautiful woman across any timeline in my arms will do that to a man.”

  The comment elicited a self-deprecating eyeroll. Still, Nance suggested, a twinkle in her eyes, “Hey, you think we’d be missed at breakfast if we slept in this morning?”

  He was half way through his, “Definitely not,” when angry shouting interrupted. They frowned in unison, listening to the commotion. At first, they heard a man’s voice, raised and raging.

  Then another joined, and another. Alfred couldn’t make out the words, but the anger transcended language.

  “We better check that out,” the taxman groaned reluctantly.

  She sighed. “I know.”

  They emerged from the tent into a chilly early morning. A crowd was forming at the far end of the camp, and they set their steps in that direction. Justin and Freddo intercepted them about half way there.

  “There’s been more defections,” the former imparted, a hint of glee in his tones.

  “More women leaving,” Freddo explained, “in the night.”

  Nancy’s eyes sparkled. “It’s working.”

  “Yeah. And they are pissed.”

  Alfred felt a measure of guilt. He thought of waking up with Nance in his arms, and how happy it had made him; and he contrasted it to the men who had found themselves alone this morning, and how miserable that must have been.

  It was irrational, he knew. The women of the forest had been treated abominably. Leaving was the right call – indeed, they should have done it long ago. Theirs were not relationships like his and Nance’s, of mutual respect and love. Gwen Whod had been more a nanny and live-in servant to Robert than a wife.

  Still, he couldn’t entirely repress the pricking of conscience. “How many?”

  “I don’t know. Five or six, from what I can tell. John Naylor’s wife is gone.”

  Alfred shuddered, trying to picture anyone marrying the burly giant who wanted to use taxmen as targets. “Naylor’s married?”

  “Maybe not anymore. But he was, yeah.”

  “Ugh.”

  “This is perfect,” Nancy said. “Gwen’s going must have been a wakeup call to them.”

  She was right. The notes the women of the camp had left behind mentioned Gwen more than their own husbands. John Naylor’s wife wrote that she was done playing nursemaid and housekeeper. “Five children is enough, John. I don’t need to be married to one too. I’m following Gwen to the city, and I’ll make my own way. Don’t bother coming after us – not until you’ve sworn off the elixir.”

  A young man stared with bewildered eyes at a sheet of parchment. When he read, his voice seemed hollow. “Even Gwen has had enough. I can’t raise a baby here, Derek. I’m sorry, and I love you. But our baby deserves a normal life.”

  Allan Clare got the worst news of all. “I suppose this is goodbye, Allan. It’s been a long time coming, but I didn’t know how to tell you. Well, yesterday, Cecil asked me to marry him. I know marriage is only a social construct to you. But you know it’s more than that to me.

  “I said yes. So, this is goodbye. We’re leaving the forest tonight, and we’ll be married by time you read this. All the best, Allan. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. Love is just an emotional construct, after all.”

  There were tears and recriminations and fury aplenty. Some of this fell on Nancy’s shoulders. “You and your talk about free hospitals,” Robert growled. “You put this nonsense in our women’s heads.”

  “Oh like hell I did,” she shot back, and Alfred found himself hoping her frankness wouldn’t wind up with them hanging from the trees, peppered in arrows like human pincushions. “This has been a long time coming. It’s a miracle they put up with you all as long as they did. When’s the last time one of you lazy bastards lifted a finger to help your wives? When’s the last time you fed yourselves, or helped look after your own children? When’s the last time you picked up after yourselves? You do what you like when you like. If you want to roam the forest playing at banditry, you do. If you want to stay home and drink, you do. But when’s the last time your wives had a day off? When did they get to decide not to work?”

  “A mother can’t take a day off,” one of the young men snorted.

  Nancy raised an eyebrow at him. “But fathers can take every day off?”

  “We keep the forest safe,” John raged. “We protect our families.”

  “From what? Free medicine at the local hospital? Clean beds and rooves over their heads?” She shook her head in exasperation. “When’s the last time Basil bothered you people?”

  “He doesn’t bother us because he doesn’t know where we are,” Robert said. “He doesn’t bother us because we do such a good job at protecting our forest.”

  “Or maybe,” Nancy countered, “he doesn’t bother you because he has no interest in bothering you.”

  The outlaw snorted, and several men laughed. “Ridiculous. I’ve never heard anything so preposterous.” Now, he turned to Alfred. “My God, how do you put up with this? I thought it was bad to lose my woman. But you’ve got yours, and you’re the one who deserves pity.”

  The taxman gazed at her and smiled. “No, Robert. I’m not. She’s right. Your wives are right. You’ve dragged them out here to live like hobos, because you’re mad about taxes and drugs.” He shook his head. “You don’t deserve pity. Gwen deserves pity. All of your wives deserve pity, for putting up with you as long as they have. Your kids deserve pity, for everything you’ve put them through. But you?” He held the other man’s outraged gaze. “You don’t deserve pity, Robert.”

  The outlaw’s nostrils flared, and for a long moment they stood face-to-face, eyes locked. Then, Robert spoke, and his tones were low and constrained. “I think, Alfred Favero, your time in the Freemen’s Forest is at an end. You and your friends should seek shelter elsewhere.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” the taxman nodded. “I choose to be a truly free man: one who pays my own share in society and steals from no one. One who is master of my own head, and a slave to no elixir. One who gives as much as I take and respects my fellow human beings.”

  His speech was interrupted by a fist, flying fast and hard into his face. Alfred found himself sprawled out in the dirt a moment later, staring up at the trees and sky overhead. He tasted blood, and pain coursed through his head. Nancy, meanwhile, flew to his side. “Alfred. Oh my God, Alfred, are you alright?”

  It took him half a second to realize what had happened. He sat up, brushing the point of impact, his swelling lips and cheek. His fingers came away with blood on them. “Ow. You punched me.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all I did,” Robert growled. “Now get your shit and get the hell out of my camp.”

  And here, the taxman’s discretion bested valor. He fell silent, and under the poisonous gaze of the woodsmen, they gathered their belongings and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was a long walk back to Warwick-on-Eden. His feet ached and his head throbbed. But Nancy regarded him with admiring eyes. “You were so brave, Alfred. I couldn’t believe the way you stood up to him. He looked like he was going to kill you.” She squeezed his arm. “But you didn’t flinch.”

  His read on the situation had been a little di
fferent. Whatever mortal peril Nance had observed, the taxman had missed. He’d been stunned by the punch, and oblivious to any darker intent.

  Still, he didn’t feel it necessary to remark this out loud. If Nance wanted to believe him a little more courageous, and a little more reckless, than he actually was, well, he’d let her.

  Freddo seemed impressed too. “Well, you certainly gave them something to think about.”

  Even Justin acknowledged a grudging respect. “Ballsy, Freddie. Dumb, for sure. I mean, you could have got us all killed. But definitely ballsy.”

  “It’s Alfred. I don’t do nicknames.”

  “Neither did Freddo. But he changed his mind.”

  “Well I’m not Freddo.”

  “That’s for sure. He’s much cuter.”

  Nance and he rolled their eyes in unison, and she leaned into his embrace. “My heroic Alfred.”

  All things considered, the taxman was in good spirits by time they reached the town. His mood improved as he saw familiar faces. He didn’t know all the names, but he recognized women of the forest. These were the people he’d seen laboring over cooking pits, toiling over wash buckets, working in the camp. And now, he saw them – a lot of them – here, in Warwick-on-Eden.

  “Oh my God,” Nance gasped, as she waved greeting to a thin young woman. “Edith left too.”

  After running off to embrace a stout middle-aged mother, she returned to gush, “That was Francesca. She actually did it: she’s living with her sister, now.”

  They made their way through town one reunion after another. After a while, Justin shook his head. “Well damn. I don’t think those dumbasses realized just how many women had gone.”

  “No,” Alfred agreed. “They must have lost half the camp in two nights.”

  It wasn’t quite that dire for the Freemen, but Nance confirmed that there were more missing than they’d realized in those early morning hours.

  “That’s disappointing,” Justin said.

  “No, it’s great news,” Nance argued.

  “Oh, I know. I mean, it’s disappointing that they kicked us out before we got to see their reactions.”

  Here, they laughed conspiratorially, and Nancy nodded. “True.”

  Alfred’s mood took a sharp decline, though, when they met Lord Basil. They’d gone to the hospital, at Nancy’s urging. “You have to let someone take a look at that, babe.”

  Grumbling, he’d acquiesced, protesting all the while that they should be figuring out shelter. “We need to find a place to spend the night. I’m a grown man, darling. I can handle a little scrimmage.” He laughed lightly, as if the motion of speaking didn’t send waves of pain through him.

  Justin, meanwhile, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, by definition, men who use the word ‘scrimmage’ can’t handle them.”

  “Well, you know, you can always kiss my buns, Justin,” Alfred shrugged. He was feeling a little too heroic to let the other man’s words register.

  “Oh God,” he shivered. “Buns? You know that sounds so much worse than ass, right?”

  The taxman wasn’t sure how, but finding a place in queue at the hospital took his attention. Due to repairs and an influx of patients – here, Nancy found a fresh wave of women and children she’d met in Yngil-wode – the lines were long, and they were cautioned that it would be awhile before Alfred was seen.

  So they waited in the atrium, with dozens of other people. They’d been waiting a good half an hour when Basil Rickman’s voice greeted them. “Miss Nancy?”

  Alfred frowned at the nobleman, who was headed straight for them, but who seemed not to notice the Faveros or Justin.

  “One of the staff told me you were here. Are you alright?”

  “Basil,” Nancy greeted meanwhile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Repairs.” He shook his head. “But why are you here?”

  “We had an argument with Robert.” She turned, now, to the taxman. “I’m here with Alfred.”

  Basil’s eyes widened, and the taxman was about to demur, “Oh, it’s nothing,” when the other turned back to Nance.

  “My God, Miss Nancy, are you alright? That madman’s gone too far this time.”

  Alfred blinked. Not that he didn’t appreciate concern for Nance, of course. But it was him, and not her, who had absorbed the full force of Robert’s fury. With my face, no less.

  “I’m fine, Basil. Alfred’s the one who got hit.”

  Still, the nobleman looked her over carefully. “Are you sure?”

  She laughed. “Of course I’m sure. Hell, it’s probably half my fault that poor Alfred got hit at all. I pissed Robert off first.” She turned to the taxman, smiling tenderly at the memory. “And he stood up for me.”

  “Oh.” Basil’s expression changed at that, and he glanced between them. “I see. Well, I’m, uh, glad you’re alright Mister Favero.”

  Alfred hadn’t said that he was alright, but he nodded. “Thanks.” And, just for good measure, he put his arm around Nance.

  “Actually, your lordship,” Justin piped up, “we kind of got evicted from the forest earlier. For standing up for you and the city and all that. So, we don’t really have a place to stay.”

  “Oh.” Basil’s brow furrowed. “Oh, well, you’re more than welcome to stay at the tower, if you like.” He glanced back at Nance. “All of you.”

  “I don’t know,” Alfred said. He didn’t have an alternative in mind, but, on the other hand, he found himself disliking Lord Basil a little more with every passing moment.

  “We’d be obliged,” Justin cut in quickly.

  “Of course. I’ll send word ahead, to make sure rooms are ready. And I’ll get a carriage, so you don’t have to walk.”

  He stayed for a few minutes longer, but once he’d assured himself that Nance – and all of them, of course – wanted for nothing, he took his leave.

  “Well,” Justin declared, a hint of amusement in his tones, “he’s very helpful.”

  Alfred snorted. “I don’t know. I don’t like him.”

  “Really?” the other man grinned. “Why?”

  “He was very upset that Robert hit you, darling,” Nance said.

  Justin’s grin broadened. “Oh, he was, Nance. That was obvious.”

  The taxman just scowled at him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The weeks moved quickly after that, but, oddly, time seemed to stand still. Alfred joined the hospital repair workforce. So did his friends. So did Nance, and her engineering skills wowed the locals.

  They wowed Lord Basil, too, who was only too eager to grant whatever help or supplies she needed. “Anything, for Cumberland’s wizards,” he’d smile.

  Alfred did not care for the other man, but, as they were residing in his house and living on his hospitality, he tried to conceal the feeling. Anyway, Nance was convinced he was a remarkable leader, and as much as he wanted to argue the point, he did seem to put the people of Cumberland first.

  As the repairs wound down, Alfred tried to help with her projects where he could. His forte was numbers, not engineering. Still, he did what he could, and Nance was always glad to work with him.

  So when Nancy managed to rig up a series of wind-powered pumps to bring running water to the hospital, he was there with her the day they finished. “Good job, babe.”

  “It’s genius, Nancy,” Basil told her. “It will save our staff so much time every day.”

  “It’ll also help if there’s ever another fire. You won’t need bucket brigades running from wells and rivers.”

  He’d hoped, at first, to convince her to move on from Cumberland. But with no promise of better things outside the shire, and an amenable host here, it was a doomed effort. Nor could he rely on Justin and Freddo for help. “Hell no, man,” the former had said. “You think I’m leaving a castle to go exploring in some whacky version of medieval England? You’re out of your mind.”

  The other Favero hadn’t been much more reasonable. “It’s not like there’s a portal b
ack home, Alfred. We’re stuck here. And even though they met us, they still like us. I’d say we lucked out, all things considered.”

  The taxman didn’t have a good counter to this either. So he tried to adjust his mind to life in this world, where time passed slowly, where one day was much the same as the other.

  He didn’t much miss the things Nance would mention now and again: social media, the internet, video games and all the comic books and television shows she loved. Sure, he loved settling in for a good show now and then. But he could live without it, too. And he knew they brought her an immense amount of joy, so for her sake he missed them.

  But for his own, he found good books and quiet walks to and from the hospital with Nance more than made up for anything the television might have provided.

  Oddly enough, it was work that he missed. He missed the thrill of the chase, the feeling of doing good, the knowledge that he was making the world a fairer, more equitable place by rooting out tax cheats, one fraudster at a time.

  He did not, though, particularly miss his coworkers. He regretted that he’d never see Director Caspersen again, and now and then he’d think fondly of some of the people around the office. But for the most part, he was indifferent. When it came to Justin, he was almost relieved.

  Sure, he was stuck in this world with a version of Justin. But this one was less obnoxious and more personable than the Justin he knew. This one was almost likeable.

  He even came to like the idea of spending time with another version of himself. Freddo was like a kind of mirror, and there were times when that admittedly made him uncomfortable. There were times, too, when he wondered how they could possibly be versions of the same human being – like when he revealed his abiding love of cauliflower.

  Still, Freddo was an incarnation of Alfred Favero, and though he might not match the original, there was a lot to like. He was sharp, and clever, and more often than not agreed with him.

  Alfred had a brother, Tony Favero. But Freddo was more like the kind of brother he might have chosen, if he’d been given the choice. He had always considered his real brother the human equivalent of a braying donkey: big, loud, stubborn and rather stupid.