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MOST INCONVENIENT," Isaac Woodward said, just after Matthew had looked under the straw-mattressed pallet of a bed and found there to be no chaht, I&039;ht ere getting a decent room We&039;d have been better served in the barn"

"We won&039;t perish froht here" Woodward le shuttered hich was being pelted by another heavy downpour "I dare say ould perish, if we had to continue out in that weather So just be thankful, Matthew" He turned his attention back to what he was doing: getting dressed for dinner He&039;d opened his trunk and taken fros, and a pair of pale gray breeches, which he&039;d laid carefully across the bed so as not to snag the material Matthew&039;s trunk was open as well, a clean outfit at the ready It was one of Woodward&039;s requirements that, wherever they were and whatever the circumstances, they dress like civilized men for the dinner hour Matthew often saw no point in this - dressing like cardinals, sometimes for a pauper&039;s meal - but he understood that Woodward found it vitally i

Woodward had restand fro with the bed and a pinewood chair, co-stand Woodward had set one of his three hairpieces, this one dyed a passable shade of broith curling ringlets that fell about the shoulders By the s on a wallhook above the table, Woodward exaed hand land His white scalp was blotched by a dozen or hly disagreeable sight around his ears was a fragile fringe of gray hair He studied the age spots as he stood in his white undergar the cinched waistband, his legs pale and thin as an egret&039;s He gave a quiet sigh "The years," he said, "are unkind Every ti new to lament Guard your youth, Matthew It&039;s a precious commodity"

"Yes, sir" It had been said without much expression This topic of conversation was not unfamiliar to Matthew, as Woodward often waxed poetic on the tribulations of aging Matthew busied hi into a fresh white shirt

"I was handsoled the e spots "Handsohtly There were more blotches this time than the last time he&039;d counted them Yes, he was sure of it More re away as water through a punctured bucket He abruptly turned the ave Matthew a hint of a smile "No need to answer There&039;ll be no self-incriht ah! My pride!" He reached into his trunk and brought out - very carefully and with great admiration - a waistcoat But by no means an ordinary one This waistcoat was the dark brown color of rich French chocolate, with the finest of black silk linings Decorating the waistcoat, and glinting now in the candlelight as Woodward held it between his hands, were thin stripes woven with golden threads Two sold, and the waistcoat&039;s five buttons were formed of pure ivory - a rather dirty yello, after all the years of use, but ivory just the saarment, a relic from Woodward&039;s past He had co a bare larder and an even barer pocketbook, but though this garment would procure a pretty sum in the Charles Townit It was, after all, a link to his life as a gentleman of means, and many times he&039;d fallen asleep with it draped over his chest, as if it ht impart dreams of happier years in London

Thunder booun, over in the corner; water was trickling down the raw logs into a puddle on the floor He had noted as well the nus around the rooer than their urban cousins He decided he would ask Shawcombe for an extra candle, and if he slept at all it would be sitting up with the lantern close at hand

as Matthew dressed in a pair of dark blue trousers and a black coat over his shirt, Woodward pulled on his stockings, the gray breeches - a tight squeeze around the s into his boots, which had been scraped of mud as much as possible, and then put on and buttoned up his prized waistcoat The ent on, was straightened and steadied with the aid of the hand mirror Woodward checked his face for stubble, as he had shaved with the benefit of a bowl of rainwater Shawco The last piece of apparel to go on was a beige jacket - much wrinkled but a sturdy traveller Matthew ran a brush through the cropped and unruly spikes of his black hair, and then they were ready to be received by their host

"Come in and set y&039;selves!" Shawcombe brayed as Woodward and Matthew ca, the sent a few candles were set about, and Maude and the girl were at work over a pot that bubbled and steamed on a hook above the red coals Shawcombe was on his feet with a wooden tankard of ru them to a table; his balance, or lack of saet He blinked and let out a lohistle that rose in voluold you&039;re wearin&039;i" Before Woodward could draw back, Shawcolittering waistcoat "ah, that&039;s a fine piece of cloth there! Maude, look at this! He&039;s wearin&039; gold, have you ever seen the likei"

The old woht to have a face like awhite hair, peered back over her shoulder and lish or a wheeze Then she focused again on her cooking, stirring the pot and snapping what sounded like orders or criticisrinning widely His ed cutlass wound "The gold bird and the black bird! ain&039;t you the sights!" He scraped back a chair from the nearest table "Come on, sit down and rest your feathers sonity had been affronted by this performance, pulled out his own chair and lowered hirace as he couldShawcorin stayed, crooked, on Shawcoer man repeated firmly "Our roo frorin had vanished The pupils of his eyes had become dark pinpoints "Chamber fuckin&039; pot, huhi Well, what do you think the woods are fori You want to shit and piss, you go out there Wipe your arse with some leaves Now sit down, your supper&039;s &039;bout ready"

Matthew re harder He could feel the raw tension in the air between them, as nasty as the pinewood sorged with blood There was a defiant, churlish expression on his face that invited Matthew to strike him, and once that strike was delivered the response would be triplefold in its violence Theto see what Matthew&039;s next rasped Matthew&039;s sleeve "Sit down"

"I think we deserve a chaaze with the tavern-keeper&039;s "at the very least a bucket"

"Young master"- - and nocombe&039;s voice drooled false sentiment - "you should understand where you are This ain&039;t no royal palace, and you ain&039;t in no civilized country out here Maybe you squat over a fancy chamberpot in Charles Town, but here we squat out behind the barn and that&039;s how things is anyway, you wouldn&039;t want the girl to have to clean up behind you, would youi" His eyebrows lifted "Wouldn&039;t be the gentleed at his sleeve, knowing this particular skir "We&039;ll make do, Mr Shawcombe," Woodward said, as Matthew reluctantly surrendered and sat down "What ! went a noise as loud as a pistol shot, and both men jumped in their chairs They looked toward the hearth, at the source of the sound, and saw the old woots at &039;aun!" she rasped, and proudly raised her other hand, two fingers of which pinched the long tail of a large, crushed black rat that twitched in its death throes

"Well, toss the bastard!" Shawcombe told her Both Woodward and Matthew expected her to throw the rat into the cookpot, but she shambled over to a , unlatched the shutter, and out went the dying rodent into the stormy dark

The door opened a wet rat of another breed ca of curses Uncle abner was soaked, his clothes and white beard dripping, his boots clotted with mud "End &039;a the damn world, what it is!" he pronounced, as he slammed the door and bolted it "Gonna wash us away, d&039;rectly!"

"You feed and water them horsesi" Shawcombe had previously coon to shelter in the barn, as well as tend to the three other sway-backed steeds

"I reckon I did"

"You bed &039;es standin&039; in the rain again, I&039;ll whip your arse!"

"They&039;re in the damn barn, and you can kiss my pickle if you&039;re doubtin&039; me!"

"Watch that sents some rum!"

"I ain&039;t doin&039; nothin&039;!" the old man squalled "I&039;m so wet I&039;m near swimmin&039; in my skin!"

"I believe I&039;d prefer ale," Woodward said, re how his earlier taste of Shawcoue to a cinder "Or tea, if you have it"

"Myself the saentlemen!" Shawcombe hollered at his hapless uncle "Go on and fetch &039;em some ale! Best in the house! Move, I said!" He took a threatening two steps toward the oldhis tankard as if he were about to crown abner&039;s skull with it, in the process sloshing the foul-slance at Woodward, but the older man just shook his head at the base comedy of the situation abner&039;s soaked spirit collapsed before his nephew&039;s ire and he scurried off to the storage pantry, but not without leaving a vile, half-sobbed oath lingering in his wake

"Some people don&039;t knoho&039;s the master of this house!" Shawcombe pulled a chair over and sat without invitation at their table "You should pity ents! Everywhere I look, I have to rest my eyes on a halfwit!"

and a halfwit behind his eyes too, Matthew thought

Woodward shifted in his chair "I&039; a tavern is a troublesome business"

"That&039;s God&039;s own truth! Get a few travellers through here, but not many Do some tradin&039; with the trappers and the redskins &039;Course, I only been here three, four months"

"You built this place yourselfi" Matthew asked He had noted a half-dozen sparkles of water dripping fro and board, done it all"

"Your bad back allowed you to cut and haul the logsi"

"My bad backi" Shawcooin&039; on abouti"

"Your bad back that you injured lifting the heavy bales Didn&039;t you say you worked on the river Tha anything likeoha trunk or two"

Shawcombe&039;s face had becoue flicked out and licked his lower lip He smiled, but there was a hardness in it "Oh," he said slowly, "my back WellI did have a partner He was the one did the cuttin&039; and haulin&039; We hired a few redskins too, paid &039;elass beads What I meant to say ismy back&039;s in pain more when it&039;s wet out Some days I&039;m fit as a fiddle"

"What happened to your partneri" Woodward inquired

"Took sick," came the quick response His stare was still fixed on Matthew "Fever Poor soul had to give it up, go back to Charles Town"

"He didn&039;t go to Fount Royali" Mattheed on His bloodhound&039;s instinct had been alerted, and in the air hung the definite smell of deceit "There&039;s a doctor in Fount Royal, isn&039;t therei"

"I wouldn&039;t know You asked, I&039;m answerin&039; He went back to Charles Town"

"Here! Drink &039;til your guts bust!" Tooden tankards bri with liquid were slammed down in the center of the table, and then abner withdrew - still- to dry himself before the hearth

"It&039;s a hard country," Woodward said, to break the tension between the other two ly, that an oily film had risen to the liquid&039;s surface

"It&039;s a hard world," Shawcombe corrected, and only then did he pull his stare away fro the ruh to try sipping the stuff first, and they were glad at their failure of courage The ale, brewed of what tasted like ferh to make the mouth pucker and the throat clench Matthew&039;s eyes watered and Woodas sure he felt prickles of sweat under his wig Even so, they both got a sn

"I get that ale from the Indians" Shawcombe wiped his lips with the back of his hand "They call it a word means &039;snakebite&039;"

"I feel soundly bitten," Woodward said

"Second swaller&039;s not so bad Once you get halfway done, you&039;ll be a lion or a lamb" Shawcombe took another drink and sloshed the liquor around in his mouth He propped his feet up on the table beside them and leaned back in his chair "You don&039;t mind me askin&039;, what business do you have in Fount Royali"

"It&039;s a legal istrate"

"ahhhhhh" Shawcombe nodded as if he understood perfectly "Both of you wear the robesi"

"No, Matthew is hti"

"It is ahow much this ive him any more rope hich to bundle a tale for other travellers

"Oh, I know the particulars," Shawcoe riders been back and forth through here for the last couple a&039; onna hang her, burn her, or cut her head offi"

"Firstly, the accusations against her must be proven Secondly, execution is not one of my duties"

"But you&039;ll be passin&039; the sentence, won&039;t youi C&039;et him off this route was to run the distance "If she&039;s found guilty, the penalty is hanging"

"Pah!" Shawco hand "If it was up to my quirt, I&039;d cut her head off and burn her to boot! Then I&039;d take them ashes and throw &039;em in the ocean! They can&039;t stand salt water, y&039;know" He tilted his head toward the hearth and hollered, "Hey, there! We&039;re waitin&039; for our suppers!"

Maude snapped so at him that sprayed an arc of spittle from herof ruuests&039; silence, "this here&039;s how I see it: they ought to shut Fount Royal down, set fire to everything there, and call it quits Once the Devil gets in a place, ain&039;t no re her or whatever you please, but the Devil&039;s took root in Fount Royal now, and there ain&039;t no savin&039; it"

"I think that&039;s an extreme position," Woodward said "Other towns have had similar problems, and they survived - and have flourished - once the situation was corrected"

"Well,Iwouldn&039;t want to live in Fount Royal, or any other place where the Devil&039;s been walkin&039; &039;round town like he&039;s h as it is I don&039;t want conjures bein&039; put on runted to emphasize his point "Yessir, you talk pretty, but I&039;ll wager you wouldn&039;t care to turn down an alley and see ol&039; Scratch waitin&039; in the dark! So my advice to you, sir - lowly tavern-keeper that I am - is to cut the head off that Devil&039;s whore and order the whole town burnt to the ground"

"I will not pretend that I know any answers to istrate said evenly, "but I do know the situation in Fount Royal is precarious"

"and da else, but his open mouth expelled no words; it was obvious to Woodward and Matthew that his attention,drink, had been diverted froold-threaded waistcoat once more "I swear, that&039;s a fine piece a&039; work," he said, and dared to run his griet thati New Yorki"

"Itwas a present from my wife In London"

"I was ave a gruff, huers continued to caress the fabric, much to Woodward&039;s discomfort "Your wife is in Charles Towni"

"No" Woodward&039;s voice had thickened "My wiferemains in London"

"Mine&039;s at the bottoe, shit herself to death They rolled her up and rolled her over Y&039;knoaistc&039;t like thishow much is somethin&039; like this worthi"

"More than any man should have to pay," Woodward said, and then he pointedly moved his chair a few inches away fro the air

"Clear room! Watchyer elbows, there!" Maude slapped tooden bowls, both filled with a murky brown stew, onto the table in front of Shawcoht by the girl, who set it down and quickly turned away to retreat to the hearth again as she did, her clothes brushed his ar scent to Matthew&039;s nostrils: the scent of an unwashed body, yes, but another odor that overpowered the first It was ency, and it hit him like a fist to the chest that it was the aroion

Shawcombe inhaled deeply, with a raucous noise He looked at Matthehose eyes had widened slightly and were still tracking the girl "Hey, there!" Shawco" Matthew averted his gaze to the stel

"Uh huh"