There were times when Turpin cursed the day when he had been 'persuaded' to take on an apprentice. This cold but bright March morning, the first sunny day of a harsh Spring, was one of them. While it was true that he hadn't been well until recently, Dick refused to lend credence to Swiftnick's stubborn insistence that the chill Turpin had taken had been life-threatening and - to be brutal - the lad's constant fretting was beginning to get on his nerves.

This morning was a case in point. Their finances had been stretched to breaking point by the long period of enforced activity and Turpin was determined to get some money before they were forced to call in any more favours. Swiftnick had been loud in his opinion that Dick wasn't fit enough to do anything strenuous, let alone run the risk of having to gallop for his life if Spiker sprang another one of his traps. The resulting 'discussion' had become a shouting match very quickly and had only ended when Dick had turned his back on Swiftnick and gone to saddle Bess himself. He'd been half-convinced that Swiftnick was going to let him go on his own and he had had to swallow his sigh of relief when the young blond had eventually appeared and saddled Toby in tight-lipped silence.

That silence had continued all the way to their chosen ambush point and it had gradually started to get on Dick's nerves. That and the fact that he was beginning to think that Swiftnick might have had a small point in his flat statement that Turpin wasn't up to a full day's banditry. They had been waiting for a coach to come along for over two hours, now, and Dick was cold to the bone and far more tired than he should have been. He was trying to think of an excuse which wouldn't sound like a concession when the sound of wheels rumbling along the hard-packed surface came from up ahead and he jerked his wandering attention back to the present. First they'd see what kind of loot they could get from this target and then he'd make a decision.

He felt a quick stab of disappointment when the lumbering cart came around the bend and he got a good look at it. A travelling carriage would have yielded a better haul, since only the reasonably well-off up could afford such a mode of transport. As he kneed Bess to lunge forward onto the road, however, Dick caught the coat of arms of Sir Glutton emblazoned on the side of the carrack and his heart lightened. Even if this was just a supply vehicle, Glutton always insisted on nothing but the best and there was bound to be something they could use on board, even if it was only food.

Turpin didn't expect any great show of resistance from the driver, and such was the case. Turpin felt a glow of pride at the way Swiftnick materialised out of the undergrowth from the other side of the road as soon as the carrack had come to a halt, grabbing the reins of the horses and gentling them into stationary obedience with a pat or two and some soft words. Then he caught the look of concern that the lad sent his way and the pride was swamped by another wave of irritation. All this fussing…. He fastened his best glare on the driver and was a little surprised at the way the man quailed. He shrugged away the excessive reaction, not realising that his face above the kerchief was gaunt and white as a haunt, deciding that the man was more nervous than most.

"Keep your hands away from anything that looks like a weapon, my bucko, and we'll all live to think back to this day," he said flatly. He jerked his head at Swiftnick. "Take a look at what we've got, lad."

"This is Sir John Glutton's property," the driver quavered. "He'll be right angry if you steal anything of his."

"I'll try not to let that keep me awake at nights," Turpin said gravely.

"Just thinking about Sir John's enough to give a person nightmares," Swiftnick muttered as he went to check on the carrack's interior.

The days when he had been green enough to just walk up to it and yank open the door were long gone and he made sure he had his pistol in a secure grip before he stood to one side and yanked open the door. Nothing more dangerous than a precariously balanced box tumbling out met his gaze and he relaxed again before starting a methodical search. A lot of the stuff was regrettably too bulky for them to take away with them, but he was determined to take as much as possible. Turpin might be muleheaded enough to refuse to admit how dangerously ill he had been, but Swiftnick knew better and he also knew that Dick needed good food and warmth if he was going to get better. Some medicines would be even better, but they cost money and that was something they had very little of at the moment.

It felt strange to Swiftnick to be the one who was thinking ahead and worrying about details while Dick was the one refusing to see sense. He had had a very bad fright when the cold Dick had laughed off had suddenly become a raging fever and a congestion on the lungs which had threatened to finish the older highwayman off. He would never forget the night when things had come to a head and he had seriously thought that Turpin was going to die. No matter how hard he had tried, he hadn't been able to throw off the terror and he found himself watching every move Turpin made, even though he knew that such protectiveness was driving Dick up the wall. Knowing the reasons behind the other man's snappishness didn't stop some of the barbed comments from hurting, though. Turpin had a nasty tongue when it suited him and he had been particularly venomous of late.

Swallowing the surge of resentment he felt when he remembered the cutting remarks Dick had made that morning, Swiftnick paid attention to his current task, not wanting to give Dick any more fuel for his seemingly endless temper. He had soon appropriated several sacks of precious salt and spices- the latter that they could sell to any number of inns with no questions asked - some well-cured hams, a sack of raisins, another of fine flour. He also appropriated some tins of tea and a sack of coffee, both extremely valuable if sold to the right inn. He then grabbed a few jars of preserves and a large crock of oranges in syrup. Even though the latter was bulky, he remembered his mother saying that oranges were good for you and he decided that they might tempt Dick to eat more than he had been doing. Toby gave him a long-suffering look as Swiftnick carefully loaded him up, but the sturdy horse had carried far heavier weights and Swiftnick had learned the trick of evenly distributing the weight to make it easier on the horse.

"Have you finished?" Turpin demanded from the front.

"Almost," Swiftnick called back.

He ducked back inside to give one last look around. He eyed the bulky crates wistfully, but it was impossible to get them back to the hideout, and he wasn't sure they would be worth the effort. He grabbed a couple of bottles of wine for Dick, then saw the polished wooden box just behind them. Curiosity made him open it and his eyes widened when he saw the single bottle nestled inside. The box had obviously been made to fit the bottle and he wondered what drink could possibly be so valuable as to warrant that kind of care being taken. There was a small card nestled inside and Swiftnick gazed at the elegant scrawl in bewilderment. Thanks to Dick's tutoring he could now manage quite a bit of reading provided it was in print. Handwriting could defeat him very easily.

Deciding that the bottle's obvious value might translate into some money elsewhere, Swiftnick took that and scooped up a bag of pepper before wriggling back out and kicking the door shut as he made his way to Toby. It was the work of minutes to fasten the last of his treasures to the rest and then he heaved himself up into the saddle, ignoring the deep sigh which Toby made as he obeyed his urging to move back towards Bess.

"Finally," Turpin growled. "I was beginning to think you were eating everything inside, what with the time you were taking!"

Swiftnick choked back the retort that sprang to his lips. The comment was similar to several that Dick had made in the past. It was only the tone of voice and the scowl that accompanied it which scraped at his overwrought nerves. His silence seemed to annoy Turpin even further but he switched his attention back to the unnerved driver instead.

"You, on your way and be thankful I was in a good mood! Go on, get!"

The driver didn't need to be told again and the carrack was soon bowling along at a pace that made it sway alarmingly as it vanished around another bend. The two of them watched it leave, an unsettled silence between them. Swiftnick would have given anything to know how to break it but he was afraid that any incautious remark would just make Turpin lose his temper again. When Dick pulled down his mask and grinned wolfishly, Swiftnick had to force himself to stay silent and not cry out in protest at the pinched, white look of his mentor's face. Why was Dick being so stubborn about this? He was always telling Swiftnick to be sensible and recognise his limitations, so why wasn't the idiot practising what he preached?

The ride back to their current hideout was accomplished in silence, although Swiftnick's newly practised ear could detect the faint whistle in Turpin's breathing by the time they got there. His dismount lacked all its usual grace and he turned a blackly suspicious look in Swiftnick's direction, obviously daring him to say anything. Choking back the protest he wanted to make, Swiftnick concentrated instead on unloading Toby before taking Bess's reins and heading off to the spacious lean-to they used as a stable.

When he returned, he glanced through the windows before opening the door and froze in his tracks when he saw the way Dick was slumped in a seat. His anger, which had been forced down after the morning's argument, flared back into hot life and before he could stop and think of the consequences, he had barrelled in through the door and was squaring up to a Turpin who had obviously been jerked out of a light doze.

"When are you going to admit that you're still ill?" Swiftnick demanded belligerently.

"Now you just wait a minute-" Turpin started, his eyes flaring with temper as well as he realised that he had been caught at a disadvantage.

"No, I'm done with waiting," Swiftnick snapped. "I've been waiting for you to show some sense every since you got ill and if I keep waiting I'll probably be doing it when they're shovelling the dirt in on top of your coffin!"

Turpin's mouth dropped open in shock. Truth be told, Swiftnick was equally taken aback by his own temerity, but he had been shaken to the core when he had found himself caring for a seriously ill Turpin, especially when it had sunk in that he couldn't just approach a doctor for help. If Glenrae had been here, the ex-Army surgeon turned highwayman would have been able to help, but with him away, Swiftnick had no-one beside Green Mary to turn to and she hadn't been at her usual hideaway. The panic had grown until he had felt as strung out as a fiddle string. He'd even been afraid to chance the four-hour round trip to his mother's tavern to seek her help.

He'd almost burst into tears of relief when Turpin's fever had finally broken and his mentor had started to recover. He'd expected things to get back to normal quickly, but Dick had started acting more and more out of character, snapping at Swiftnick for no reason and refusing to listen to reason. Swiftnick had sometimes wondered resentfully just which of them was the younger, since Turpin was acting more like a mulish child than the clever rogue Swiftnick had come to admire far more than the dimly remembered father of his childhood.

"I'll thank you to keep a respectful tongue in your head, brat!" Turpin said coldly.

"I'll be respectful just as soon as you do something which deserves it," Swiftnick shot back. "You're not well and the sooner you admit it-"

He broke off and backed up involuntarily as Turpin shot to his feet, an expression of pure fury twisting his face. Dick could sometimes show a dangerous streak when his temper was well and truly lost, but Swiftnick had rarely felt it turned in his direction. Right now it looked as if he was having to hang on to his self-control with every last scrap of restraint he had.

"While you ride with me, Swiftnick, you follow my lead and you take orders from me. You may think you know everything, but you're still barely more than a child and you haven't earned the right to say yay or nay to me. Now I think we both need to spend a little time apart before we say something we might regret, so I'll go and check on the horses and you can start supper."

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Swiftnick was torn between wanting to maintain a dignified silence and the urge to throw something at the ungrateful tyrant. Fortunately, he was still dithering by the time Dick had reached the door that led through to where the horses were being stabled. Left on his own, Swiftnick pulled in a shaky breath and shook his head. He had no idea what was happening to them, but he was beginning to feel very scared and very much alone. Needing to do something to distract himself, he turned his attention to putting away the loot they had gained from Sir John Glutton.

He put the coffee and spices to one side for them to sell later, but kept back the tea. Although that was also a luxury that could command a high price, Dick preferred to keep the tea for himself and the liking for the beverage had rubbed off on Swiftnick once he'd got his first real taste. He'd practically spat it out again when Dick had gleefully told him what had been done to the unpleasant stuff he'd sampled previously. The genuine article had turned out to be a completely different matter and it hadn't taken long for the putting on of the kettle to become as automatic a habit for Swiftnick as it had been for Turpin.

He started the potatoes baking in the hot ashes of the hearth before he continued with his assessment. He sliced off several generous slices of the ham to go with the potatoes and fished out a couple of onions to be sliced and fried later on. It was while he was looking for the sacks of herbs that he came across the box containing the mysterious bottle. He had originally intended to either sell the bottle or give it to Dick. Turpin occasionally showed a taste for the finer things in life and it amused him to enjoy the same things which the gentry thought exclusively their own, and doing it without forking out so much as a penny.

Now, however, Swiftnick had a better idea. Since Turpin was acting like a spoilt child, making Swiftnick be the adult, it seemed only fair that Swiftnick should enjoy the fruits of that responsibility. Dick was extremely firm over his apprentice's drinking habits and Swiftnick was rarely allowed anything stronger than ale or the occasional cider. It was about time he got to enjoy something a little stronger. Of course, that depended on whether or not whatever was in the bottle was actually drinkable!

The decision made, Swiftnick quickly broke the seal on the top of the bottle and used Dick's corkscrew to get the cork out. He sniffed cautiously at the open bottle and wrinkled his nose at the strong, slightly flowery scent which met his nostrils. Grabbing a cup, he poured out a generous measure and studied the dark amber liquid suspiciously. Realising that there was only one way he was going to find out what it tasted like, he took a cautious sip. Almost immediately he started coughing as the drink hit the back of his throat and felt like it had been set alight. His eyes watering, he turned to toss the rest of the drink on the fire, then paused as the original burning suddenly became a warm, rich caress which flowed down his throat and expanded to fill his chest. Blinking a little in pleasure, Swiftnick took a second sip. This time the explosion was less ferocious and the pleasure more intense.

Licking his lips and feeling terribly grown-up, Swiftnick poured a little more of the drink into the cup before pushing the cork back into the bottle and taking it over to his special cranny where he kept his things. Taking another, healthier gulp, he turned back to finish his chores. He'd draw a couple of tankards of beer from the small cask they had so that Turpin wouldn't be suspicious if he came back and smelt alcohol on Swiftnick's breath. He didn't want another argument while Dick was acting so irresponsibly.

oooOooo

Turpin managed to make it as far as the stables but he was shaking with weariness by the time he got to Black Bess and leaned against her comforting warmth. She left off pulling at her hay to give him a curious sniff, then returned to the pressing matter of filling her stomach. The sound of horses eating filled the air and Turpin gradually started to relax as some of the trembling eased. He really hated this feeling of helplessness. It wasn't often that he was ill, which was just as well, given the precarious nature of their lives, but this last bout had taken him by surprise.

He'd thought it nothing more than an ordinary cold at first. The aches and pains he had dismissed as nothing more than the cold making old injuries feel that little bit worse. He'd been angry with Swiftnick when the boy had started telling him that he was sicker than he was willing to admit. He couldn't afford to be sick; not when the hand of every lawkeeper in the area was raised against them and all too many people would have been happy to sell their location to Glutton for a bag of coins. Swiftnick was still too trusting, too ready to believe the best of everyone. Turpin had lived a hard life and had learned some bitter lessons about human nature along the way.

It was fear which fuelled the anger. Fear of what would happen to Swiftnick should anything happen to Turpin. The lad had gone too far down the path that Turpin rode and his face was known to the Law. His only hope of survival should anything happen to Dick would be to flee to some other part of the country and Dick was pretty certain that the idea wouldn't occur to him. Most people grew up and stayed in the same small area where they were born. Travel was the province of the very rich or the soldier. Swiftnick had barely travelled more than ten miles from the place of his birth before he had taken up with Turpin. If Turpin died or was killed, Swiftnick was more likely to try and stay close to his mother and continue as a highwayman and he lack of experience and impetuous nature would soon get him either killed or hung.

Dick shuddered as his imagination summoned up an all-too-vivid image of Swiftnick hanging from a gibbet. The time when he had considered Swiftnick to be a tiresome burden had long since passed and the occasions when they were parted by circumstances had left Turpin realising that he actually missed the boy a lot. He'd been a solitary creature for so long that it took some time to acclimatise himself to the knowledge that he now had to think for two, but he'd done so and now found himself worrying over what might happen after he died; something he had got out of the habit of doing since he'd come home from military service to find his parents dead and Glutton the owner of what should have been his inheritance. He had been highly indignant when Glenrae had commented that taking Swiftnick under his wing had made Turpin a better man, but once he'd left off growling, he'd been honest enough to admit that it was probably true.

Mind you, if he didn't mend his ways fairly quickly, he'd probably have to learn how to be solitary again. Swiftnick might be more sweet-natured than Dick had ever been, but every man had his limits and Turpin had probably been pushing very close to the lad's of late. A better man would probably go in and apologise for his bad behaviour but Turpin new full well that he would find it very difficult to say sorry unless he was driven to it. His pig-headedness had cost him more than one friendship in the past.

Shivering a little at the thought of losing Swiftnick, Turpin left the horses and went back into the main room. He might not be able to see his way to apologising in words, but he would find some way to make it up to his apprentice. Maybe he would finally honour that vague promise to take him to London - although he personally considered that Swiftnick would be better off staying clear of that cesspool of humanity. Swiftnick thought it was a city paved with gold, though, and was likely to try and go there himself if Dick didn't take him. Yes, that was what he would do, just as soon as he shook off the last of this cursed weakness….

One look at Swiftnick was enough to warn Turpin that the lad was still angry. His face was still flushed and there was a hard glitter to the eyes that fleetingly met his own before Swiftnick switched his attention back to getting them a meal. When a curious Turpin went to glance over his shoulder, he caught the scent of alcohol on his breath. A quick glance around and Turpin saw the tankards drawn ready on the table. He gave a sigh of relief , having been worried that Swiftnick might have picked up some stronger spirits in Glutton's coach. Most people considered him odd for his disapproval of Swiftnick drinking anything stronger than cider, but he had seen the havoc the gin and whisky could cause a man and he figured that Swiftnick needed to keep a clear head more than most.

A little unnerved at the cool silence Swiftnick was maintaining, Turpin decided that discretion was the better part of valour and withdrew to his bed, hoping that his lying down would be seen as a tacit agreement of his part that he wasn't as fit as he had tried to say he was. Swiftnick gave him a single, dark, sidelong look before going back to the cooking. Turpin started to feel a little aggrieved but managed to quell the urge to make sarcastic comments about sulking. Sniffing in appreciation to the smell of food cooking, he settled back and decided that he would read his book in a little while, after he had closed his eyes to help them stop burning quite so much….

oooOooo

Swiftnick gave a snort when he realised that Turpin had fallen asleep. So much for the man's assertion that he was perfectly all right! The only time he had ever known Dick to fall asleep during the day was in the summer when they had spent their night either evading capture or making a foray outside their normal territory. He turned his attention back to the food, wiping his forehead and wondering how it had got so hot so quickly. The fire was burning merrily enough but with the weather this cold it usually took the room a lot longer to warm completely. After a while he shrugged, deciding that he was still warm from all the activity of the day and now leaning over the fire to get the meal ready.

That was another thing; how come it was always he who had to get the meals ready? True, Turpin had all the culinary ability of a pregnant sow, but even he could manage to heat soup and slice bread! Every day it was 'put the kettle on, Swiftnick', 'get the dinner, Swiftnick' or 'make the breakfast after you've tended to the horses, Swiftnick'. Swiftnick was well aware that, by the standards of the day, he was practically spoiled by Turpin. The man had never done more than cuff him around the ear or torn a verbal strip off him for some infraction. Other apprentices were beaten or starved, enough of them dying that it wasn't considered news when another body turned up. Normally Swiftnick counted his blessings that he had fallen in with someone as soft as Turpin, but tonight he was in the mood to decide that such compassion stemmed more from Dick's wanting to keep his mother sweet than any real feeling for Swiftnick as an individual.

Raking some of the fire's embers flat, Swiftnick slapped the skillet down and tossed in a lump of butter, wiping his forehead with a handy rag as he waited for it to melt and froth up ready for the onions. His head was starting to ache a little and he wondered a little guiltily if that last measure of spirit had been too much. He didn't feel drunk though. If anything, his mind felt sharper and clearer than ever, making connections he had never caught before. Like the way he did all the hard work and Turpin got all the credit, or how Dick always refused to take him to London or Bristol when he went to fence their loot. Swiftnick ran the same risks as Turpin whenever they went out after unwary victims, so how come he got none of the rewards? Oh, yes, he had a roof over his head (except sometimes it was one that leaked) and food in his stomach (except he was always the one who had to prepare it), but what would happen if Turpin ever took it into his head to throw Swiftnick aside and take on another apprentice? It wasn't as if Swiftnick could appeal to the law!

The meal was eventually ready and Swiftnick piled the food on the pewter platters and put them on the table before going over to wake Turpin up. Dick jerked awake and stared around in obvious befuddlement. Normally Swiftnick would have teased him about 'lightning fast reflexes' but the sullen anger still curdled inside him and he went back to sit at the table and start eating. After a long moment, he heard the bed creak and then Dick came over to join him. He still looked more than a little sleepy and he pushed the food around his plate for a while as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with.

""Are you going to eat that or play with it?" Swiftnick eventually demanded, the constant scrape of fork against metal plate finally getting on his nerves.

Turpin gave him a startled look and Swiftnick was taken aback by the swift flicker of hurt in the other man's eyes before he dropped his gaze back to the table. "Sorry," Dick muttered. "I still feel half-asleep, I suppose."

It was on the tip of Swiftnick's tongue to make a sarcastic comment, but something stopped him. Turpin started to eat, albeit in a desultory fashion, but the food was going down and that was all Swiftnick really cared about. The rest of the meal passed in a slightly strained silence. Turpin was obviously doing is best not to say or do anything to further annoy his apprentice. Normally Swiftnick would have recognised that as being the closest thing Turpin could come to as an apology, but right now he wasn't in a forgiving mood. The feeling prodded him into just stacking up the plates and tossing them into the basin instead of cleaning them before heading for his bed.

"Swiftnick…" Turpin began warningly.

His apprentice threw him a rebellious look over his shoulder. "I'm tired," he growled. "I'll do them in the morning."

Being conciliatory was one thing, but there were limits. "You should finish your jobs before going off to do something else," Turpin said firmly. "Come on, it won't take you that long."

"I said I'd do them in the morning," Swiftnick growled. "If it bothers you that much, you do them."

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, my lad," Turpin said, deciding that he had been as forgiving as possible for one day and look where it had got him! "Your mother apprenticed you to me and that means you do as I say."

"She meant for you to keep me safe, not to be your unpaid servant!" Swiftnick flashed back.

What is wrong with this boy? Turpin thought in annoyance. "I'm not your guardian, brat, which is something I'm thankful for. That's something your mother can be thanked for."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Swiftnick snarled, abruptly turning on his heel and coming up to thrust his face up close to Turpin's.

"It's not supposed to mean anything-" a startled Turpin started to say, but he was cut off before he could finish the sentence.

"Are you saying my mother's unfit to have me? That she raised me wrong?"

His eyes flashing, Swiftnick shoved at Turpin angrily. Taken completely by surprise, Dick crashed back against the chair and lost his balance landing on the floor hard enough to lose the breath in his body. By the time he'd got his breath back and scrambled back to his feet, Swiftnick had gone crashing out of the room. Swearing to himself and wondering just which particular maggot had got into the lad's brain on this occasion, Turpin limped stiffly across the room to go after him, but paused when he heard the sound of hoofbeats beating a furious tattoo away from the house. By the time he reached a window, Swiftnick had vanished into the night, leaving a bemused Turpin to wonder just when his life had decided to start falling apart.

oooOooo

The first thing that Swiftnick was aware of was a biting cold striking deep into his bones. His first thought was that he had somehow managed to fall onto the floor, since he was lying on a cold and unyielding surface. Rolling over onto his back, he opened his eyes and found himself staring incredulously up into a watery sky laced with a tracery of bare branches. He reached up a hand to rub his face and realised that he was covered with a fine sheen of morning dew. No wonder he was feeling cold!

Seriously confused, Swiftnick started to get up, then settled back and clutched at his head with a yelp of pure agony. It felt as though his head was going to fall off at any moment, and to be honest, he thought that would be an improvement. In addition to the pounding agony in his head, there was a bitter taste in his mouth and a roiling uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. All in all, he felt like something the cat had dragged in and spat out.

He was also a little frightened, since the last thing he remembered clearly was yet another quarrel threatening between Turpin and himself. Dick had stormed off to sulk somewhere and Swiftnick had sampled some of the drink in the bottle he had claimed for his own. He groaned as he realised he must have drunk more of the potent liquor than he'd planned and had managed to get thoroughly drunk. No wonder Turpin had been so careful abut letting Swiftnick sample anything more potent than ale or cider, if this was the result of a couple of glasses of whatever had been in the bottle!

Feeling a little sick over the thought of having to go back and face a Turpin who would undoubtedly be at his sarcastic best, Swiftnick decided that putting it off would just make things worse and he pushed himself up onto his feet. Almost immediately he found himself reaching for the support of the nearest tree while he threw up with a vengeance. It was some time before the heaving died away and Swiftnick stayed where he was for a long time afterwards, panting hard and keeping his eyes closed while he waited for his head to stop spinning like a top. He was beginning to feel a little scared. He had no idea where he was, what had happened since he had left Turpin and what he might have done during the night. Before he had to face Dick, Swiftnick had to work out how to get back to the hideout. He only hoped that Spiker wouldn't happen on him while he was so disastrously below par.

To his delighted relief, he found Toby grazing just beyond the trees he had woken up under. The stocky gelding wasn't too pleased at the idea of being ridden so early in the morning, but he only put up a token resistance to being caught. Mounting him was a lot more exhausting but Swiftnick eventually managed to scramble into the saddle and then gritted his teeth as he struggled to get back to the hideout before his head fell off completely or he fainted right away. Fortunately for him, it was too early for anyone other than the occasional farm-worker to be out and about and they were more inclined to ignore suspicious characters as they rode across the countryside and tried to look as if they knew where they were going.

His head was swimming and his focus had narrowed down to a black-edged tunnel by the time he eventually found his way back to the dilapidated farmhouse they were using this week. Toby ambled all the way up to the doors to the stable block and then came to a halt. It took a couple of seconds for Swiftnick to register that they had arrived and his dismount was more like an undignified slither than a controlled descent, with his knees giving way beneath him and only a quick grab at the saddle keeping him from collapsing on the ground. He stayed where he was for a while, leaning against the comforting solidity of Toby and gradually the nausea and vertigo eased enough for him to feel safe enough to straighten up again.

Fortunately for him, Toby was more than happy to move out of the chill morning air and into the comparative warmth of the stable, so Swiftnick was able to keep a wary hand on the horse as he walked, hating the way every step seemed to jar his entire body and set his mind reeling. It occurred to him that it was no wonder that Turpin had been so adamant that he steer clear of hard liquor, if this was what it felt like to drink too much of it. He knew that Turpin rarely indulged in hard drinking himself and that when the older man did, it was usually a sign that something was wrong.

It took him three times as long to settle Toby in and leave him pulling at some hay. It had been tempting to just take the saddle off and leave the gelding to his own devices, but that would simply put Turpin in an even worse mood than he was probably already. Unlike most of the people Swiftnick knew, Turpin was kind to his animals and always tended to their welfare whenever possible. If the horses went without, it was probably because their masters were equally empty of stomach. In fact there were times when Swiftnick was sourly of the opinion that Turpin thought more of the wellbeing of Bess and Toby than he did of his own apprentice!

The spark of resentment came from nowhere but it seemed to help against the coldness which was in his bones. Clinging to it in an effort to fight the unease he felt at having to face Turpin, Swiftnick pulled in a steadying breath and decided that he had put off the inevitable for long enough. Time to face the music.

oooOooo

Turpin had jerked out of his restless doze the moment he had heard Toby's hoofbeats. Even though he was fairly certain it had to be Swiftnick, he still kept a wary look out of the window until the boy finally came into sight on an ambling Toby. For a second, Dick was swamped with unbearably relief; he had been out of his mind with worry for most of the night and only the fact that he hadn't the faintest idea of where to look had prevented him from trying to go after Swiftnick. Exhaustion made him fall asleep eventually but every noise brought him awake again and going to the window in the hopes that Swiftnick was returning. Those hopes had been dashed again and again until his eyes had been gritty from lack of sleep and his head was pounding.

The sight of Swiftnick should have brought nothing but relief and so it did for a while, but then the anger came. The lad didn't look like he was all that eager to get back. In fact, if Toby moved any slower he'd be standing still! It wasn't until he saw the way Swiftnick half-fell out of the saddle that Dick realised that there was something more than reluctance involved in the slow pace his apprentice was setting. Turpin watched Swiftnick for a little longer, fretting as he saw the way the lad leaned against Toby as if that was the only thing keeping him upright. Dick started to make for the door, then hesitated as he remembered how prickly Swiftnick had been of late. What if he saw Turpin's concern as yet another insult to his ability to take care of himself? Lately, it had seemed like every time Turpin tried to show the lad that he cared, Swiftnick just saw it as another put-down.

After a moment, Turpin decided to risk and went over to the door. When he opened it, however, it was to find the yard deserted and he guessed that Swiftnick had taken Toby into the stables. The cold air caught at his throat unexpectedly and Dick was overtaken by a bout of coughing. Knowing that his turning up at the stables while coughing like this would simply add weight to Swiftnick's complaints that he was unable to pull his weight, Turpin decided that discretion was the better part of valour and retreated to put on the kettle. The water had had time to boil and he had made a pot of tea before Swiftnick finally made an appearance.

It had been on the tip of Turpin's tongue to make some sarcastic comment but his first good look at Swiftnick made the words die unsaid. The lad looked terrible. His face was pale, dark smudges beneath his eyes making their normal sparkling blue look dull and opaque. There was a twist to his lips which drew harsh lines on his face and he walked like someone three times his age. Turpin sucked in a breath and turned his back on Swiftnick to prevent his apprentice from seeing the look of dismay on his face.

Guilt pawed at Turpin. Swiftnick might have been foisted on him by Mary, but there had been no need for him to keep the boy by his side. There were any number of people who owed him a favour and who would have been willing to repay him by taking in Swiftnick. He'd made the attempt once, only for ill luck to put paid to his scheme. After that he had considered another attempt every now and then - mostly when Swiftnick had managed to seriously annoy him - but thinking about it had been as far as he had got. He had started to get used to having someone around, someone to talk to. Someone to care about.

And look where that's got you, Dick snarled to himself. What if the kid becomes seriously ill and needs a doctor to stay alive? What if he dies because you were too selfish to send him away when you had the chance?

Furious at the voice which whispered a truth he couldn't hide from, Turpin swung his attention back to Swiftnick. "You took your own sweet time getting back here!" he snapped.

"I…. decided to sleep somewhere else," Swiftnick said quietly.

You could have caught your death of cold! Your clothes are soaking wet! "Sometimes I wonder why I bother to offer you a roof for your fool head," Turpin growled.

"Probably because I'm useful," Swiftnick said bitterly.

That bitterness and the sheer injustice of the words hit Turpin like a physical blow. What did he have to do to make the lad understand that he wasn't ready to face the world on his own yet? Every word of caution was seen as censure, every attempt at advice ignored. The panic threatened to choke him as he visualised Swiftnick dashing off like he did last night, only this time an ambush of dragoons or a well-armed traveller lay waiting for him and then there would be nothing but the gibbet or a cold death by the wayside. You simply couldn't afford to be innocent and daring in the world Turpin inhabited. Not if you wanted to stay alive. Turpin deliberately stopped the hot words which threatened to break free. Both of them were on edge and if Swiftnick was coming down with something, he was liable to take offence at any little thing. He turned away and went to busy himself with pouring the tea.

It would never had occurred to him that Swiftnick would take his silence as being agreement to the lad's hot words, but when Dick said nothing to deny what had been said, Swiftnick felt like he had been kicked in the gut. If Turpin had said something, no matter how sarcastic, it would have at least had the comfort of normality. The silence and studied turning of his back made Swiftnick feel lost. He wanted to turn and storm out of the room again, but he had nowhere to go and he wasn't sure he had the strength to saddle Toby up again. For better or for worse - and it did seem to be worse - he had to stay where he was and make the best of things.

"Do you want some tea?" Turpin asked.

It was on the tip of Swiftnick's tongue to tell him where to put his cup, but he was thirsty and refusing might make him look childish. He came over to accept the cup which Dick had offered him, trying to look as if nothing was wrong but all too aware that his hand was shaking. He hoped that Turpin hadn't noticed, quickly gripping the cup with both hands and retreating back to sit on his bed. He felt tired, bruised and thoroughly nauseous, but there was no way he was going to admit it. He'd obviously drunk too much of that brew last night and now he had to endure the after-effects. Still, he only felt this bad because he'd drunk too much. He'd seen Dick drink a couple of glasses of brandy before now without suffering any effects at all. The key was in learning to recognise your limits. Now that he knew his own, he'd have no more problems with the liqueur and he'd have the added pleasure of having a secret of his own to match the many mysteries in Turpin's life.

Feeling a little better about what he'd seen as a major weakness on his part, Swiftnick switched his attention to sipping the tea. He missed the deep look of concern which Turpin gave him before the older man decided to let well alone and began to drink his own tea.

oooOooo