There were four caravans in the clearing, each brightly and individually painted with flowers and fanciful creatures and emblazoned with the words the Mallory Players. In the circle made by the drawn up wagons, a handful of people sat talking quietly around a cooking fire, watching the flames dancing in a rough stone hearth. A young woman with dark curly hair was tending the chickens roasting on a spit above the fire, slapping away an inquisitive hand and scolding the slender young man who had attempted to sneak a sliver of chicken.

“Wait until it’s done, Raphael,” she warned.

“Must we wait all night then?” he retorted, his dark brown eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m hungry, Mariska.”

“Only until it’s cooked....”

“Remember the last time you sneaked a leg before it was ready?” another young man added. “I'm not cleaning up after you this time....”

Raphael glared at his dark haired older brother. “It was not the chicken leg, Georgiou....”

“What was it then? Acting?” Georgiou retorted. “I didn’t know you could be that convincing.”

Raphael bristled indignantly. “And what is that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with my acting?”

Mariska sighed and prodded the chicken with her knife again, hoping it would hurry up and finish cooking.

The sweet lilt of pipe music interrupted them as it drifted across the clearing, lilting lightly through the shadows. “Enough, lads,” advised the brightly clothed third man seated on a log beside the fire as he lowered the pipe. “I hear hoof beats....”

At that they all looked up sharply, listening hard. Sure enough the distant drumming of approaching horses galloping through the woods could be hard.

“That’s either someone very stupid....” murmured Georgiou, well knowing the dangers of galloping through unfamiliar woodland in the dark. 

 “Or someone in a big hurry who knows their way,” Raphael finished, reaching for the pistol beside him. Peaceful players they might be, but there were those who took exception to their presence and the woods were full of those who considered them to be prey.

“The last thing we need is trouble,” Mariska said uncomfortably, sweeping her hands down her skirts to make sure she could reach her knife easily. “Tell Tab to stay out of sight....”

Georgiou nodded and slipped to his feet, touching his brother lightly on the shoulder as they withdrew into the shadows. If they were to be attacked then they would have the advantage of concealment. They were barely gone before two riders hurtled into the clearing and reined in, clearly as startled to see them as Mariska was to recognise them,

“Turpin?” she exclaimed in shock. “Swiftnick?”

“Mariska?” Turpin gaped back at her in astonishment then flashed a hunted look over his shoulder. “No time....We’ve only got a couple of minutes before they catch us. Can you hide us? If not...”

Mariska had not come to lead her own troupe of players by dithering and she didn’t bother wasting time with stupid questions.  “Get in the wagon,” she ordered crisply, pointing at the nearest caravan. “Raphael! Hide the horses....” Raphael shot out of the shadows again as the highwaymen dismounted and were shooed into the wagon by Georgiou. Taking the reins, the young man swung onto the bay’s back and led Turpin’s mare into the trees, vanishing rapidly into the soft summer darkness.

The pipe player had taken up his instrument and was playing again as Mariska and Georgiou hastily covered up the horses’ tracks as best they could. They had barely settled back beside the fire before five armed men on horseback burst into the clearing, all of them finely dressed and clearly somewhat the worse for drink.

“You there!” their elegantly dressed leader bellowed, beckoning to Georgiou impatiently. “Have you seen two men come this way?”

“Two men? When?” Georgiou responded vaguely.

“A few minutes ago obviously. On horses....”

“Oh....can’t say as I have,” Georgiou glanced at the others. “Mariska, Gideon? You seen anyone?”

Gideon shook his head. “I'm afraid not, my lord. And we’ve been here a while...”

“The three of you?” asked one of the other men, frowning at the caravans. “There are four wagons....”

“Raphael’s checking the horses, down by the stream,” Mariska offered, the picture of sweet confusion as she gazed up at them, all dewy eyed adoration. At least two of them started preening, the third was the worse for drink and more interested in staying in the saddle.

“We’d better take a look, Chiswick,” the second man commented.

“Oh, must we?” complained the one swaying in his saddle and clad in pale pink. “You said this was going to be fun, but it’s quite ruining my coat....”

“Oh, shut up,” Chiswick snapped at him. “No one asked you to come anyway. We’re going to lose them if we check behind every bush between here and London, Chesterton....”

“Oh, I say! Are we going all the way to London?”

“Shut up!” Chiswick repeated angrily.

“Well, there’s no need to be like that,” sniffed the pale pink vision.

“You ride on then and I’ll catch you up then.”

“Oh I say! Those ruffians could shoot you!” pale pink protested.

Chiswick gave him an exasperated look. “For once, you’re right,” he said however. “We’ll all go. You there....” He jabbed a finger at Georgiou again. “You, show us where this stream is....”

Crouched in the back of the wagon behind a huge swathe of musty fabric tossed over what he suspected was a painted wooden backdrop, Dick breathed as slowly and quietly as he could, hoping their pursuers wouldn’t hear him and straining to hear what was being said outside. Beside him, Swiftnick was scrunched into the corner, pistol held loosely across his chest. The very tenseness of him told Turpin his young partner was scared.

“Easy,” Dick soothed him softly. “If anyone can throw them off our scent it’s Mariska....”

“Did you know she was here?” Swiftnick whispered.

“No. Highwayman’s luck, hmmh?”

“Highwayman’s luck that she knew us, you mean. If it’d been anyone else....”

“We’d have kept going and been no worse off,” Dick said firmly.

“I didn’t know the other man with them,” Swiftnick said.

“With Chiswick?”

“No, with Mariska....He wasn’t with them when I met her....”

“That’s Gideon Shakespear,” Dick answered. “Their playwright...”

“Shakespear?” Swiftnick echoed, awed enough to forget his alarm.  “You mean the one who....?”

“No,” Dick said in amusement. “It’s what he calls himself, I have no idea what his real name is. Hush....” He warned his partner to silence and took a tighter grip on his own pistol as he heard movement beside the caravan. Mariska’s quiet voice carried softly to his straining ears.

“Georgiou’s taken them down to the stream. You’d better stay where you are for now....And you’d better have a good explanation for this....”

Dick smiled ruefully as he heard her move away again. Knowing Mariska she wouldn't accept ‘It wasn’t my fault’ as an answer.

“What do we do if they come back?” Swiftnick fretted.

“Fight our way out and make a run for it down to the stream and the horses,” Dick said succinctly. “We make out we were holding pistols on Mariska to make them help us....But they won’t come back...” Turpin shifted position, moving to lean his back against the side of the wagon so he could see Swiftnick without craning his neck. Swiftnick wasn't looking convinced. “Look, they didn’t think to look in the wagons,” Dick pointed out. “If it occurs to them they should have done, they’ll think we’re long gone and not bother to search. None of them are sober enough to be a problem.”

“They came close enough to catching us to be a problem....” Swiftnick pointed out sourly.

Turpin grimaced. “How was I to know Lord Chiswick would walk into the blasted pub and recognise us?” he complained.

“Expect the unexpected you always say....”

Dick glared at him. “Don’t start with me, Swiftnick. Now is not the time....”

Swiftnick snorted and rested his head back against a handy fold of curtain fabric, settling down as comfortably as he could for what he suspected would be a long wait. They had been on horseback practically since the night before; first there had been the coach they had held up, then Spiker and his dragoons had chased and nearly caught them and then when they finally managed to give him the slip Chiswick and his companions had walked into the pub and set off another pursuit. Their chances of finding anywhere to hole up safely in unfamiliar territory were unlikely to say the least and he was tired and hungry and a bit scared....

“Get some sleep, Swiftnick. I’ll keep watch,” Dick said gruffly, surprising the youth into thinking he was reading his mind again.  “It’ll be all right...”

Turpin wasn’t sure how long he waited silently in the musty darkness of the caravan. Swiftnick had fallen asleep and Dick had folded a length of curtain over him without disturbing him. The older highwayman was half dozing when the caravan jostled slightly and he came instantly awake, scooping up his pistol from the floor beside him. No need to hug it all night and risk firing off a shot by accident if his trigger finger twitched...

“Dick?” Mariska called softly. “Are you there?”

Dick laughed softly, easing forward enough to see her outlined faintly against the firelight at the back of the caravan. “Did you think I’d vanish away?”

“I half hoped you would. You’re nothing but trouble.....”

“As soon as we’re sure Chiswick’s gone, we’ll be off and away,” Turpin answered.

“Why was Chiswick after you?”

“It’s a long story, but he recognised us....”

“It can wait then. I brought you some food and something to drink. Georgiou’s come back and says Chiswick and the others have gone. Raphael was going to follow them to make sure they didn’t double back. But you’d better stay where you are for now...”

“Fair enough,” Dick eased forward to take the cloth wrapped bundle of food and wine bottle. He took a quick pull of the wine, glad of something to wash out his dry mouth.

“Where’s Swiftnick?”

“Asleep....I told him I’d keep watch.”

“Neither of you are hurt?”

“We’re fine....”

“All right then. Gideon’s going to keep watch until Raphael comes back. If you hear him playing his pipe, stay down. Good night.....”

“Good night, love....” Dick grinned as she sniffed at that and listened to the swish of her skirts as she moved away from the caravan. Squeezing back behind the backdrop, he examined the contents of the bundle; chicken, bread, cheese and a couple of apples. Dividing the food in half, he rewrapped one lot for Swiftnick and settled back to eat the rest. The last time he had eaten anything had been the night before they went on the robbery. After that there had been no time. He ate quickly and drank sparingly of the wine, then settled down to sleep while he could. For now they were safe enough, but if Chiswick came back, they might need to make another run for it...

Swiftnick woke reluctantly the next morning, gingerly uncurling from the cramped position he found himself in. He was alone in the back of the caravan, Turpin having apparently vanished although he had left his cloak behind. Outside he could hear voices and a sudden burst of laughter which told him at least that he was in no immediate danger. Sitting up a bit more, he found the wineskin and bundle Dick had left beside him and tugged open the loose knot. His stomach startled rumbling the second he discovered the food and he bit into the apple first in delight, then took a quick mouthful of the wine before stuffing his mouth hungrily with the chicken. The food vanished quickly and, after a final inspection to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, he squirmed out from behind the backdrop into the main part of the caravan. In the light pouring in from the open door at the back, he was startled by the jumble of boxes and trunks, of strange costumes and wigs suspended from every available hook. There was a stack of painted boards leaning precariously against the side of the wagon, one of them of a seascape with an improbably well endowed mermaid that immediately drew the youth’s earnest and fascinated attention.

“Ah hah, an art connoisseur are you?” a friendly male voice asked lightly, startling him into looking round wildly. The speaker was leaning on the side of the caravan door, smiling at him amiably. He was about Dick’s age, brown haired with sparkling blue eyes set in a square jawed roguishly handsome face. “I myself am a connoisseur of the real thing....”

“Of mermaids?” Swiftnick, who suspected such creatures didn’t exist, wondered.

“No. Of pretty young creatures such as yourself.”

Swiftnick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The smile widened. “Would you like me to explain it to you? Or perhaps a demonstration is called for? Come a little closer, my sweet...”

“I've got a pistol....” Swiftnick warned warily.

“Really?” came the teasing reply. “And so young too....”

Swiftnick felt his face warm with a blush without quite knowing why. “Who are you?” he demanded belligerently.

“I'm Gideon. And you, I think, are the ram’s lamb....A juicy young....”

“Gideon! You keep your sticky mitts off him!” Turpin’s strangled screech made Swiftnick let out a silent breath of relief.

 Gideon grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Surely not jealous, Richard?” he asked as Turpin loomed up behind him.

“You so much as leer at him and I’ll settle you,” Dick growled in warning.

“Ooh. Promise?”

“Pervert....” Turpin snarled.

“How do you know?” Swiftnick asked inquisitively however.

“What?” Gideon and Turpin both looked at him in surprise.

“Well, how do you know he’s a pervert?” Swiftnick pressed, nodding at Gideon. “What does he do?”

Gideon’s jaw dropped and he floundered while Turpin gave his partner a dumbfounded look that quickly shifted into a glare. “You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself,” Dick grumbled.

            “I was only asking,” Swiftnick protested with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Gideon however suddenly exploded into a joyous laugh of appreciation. “Dick, you have found yourself a veritable treasure. Swiftnick is a swift wit it would seem....”

“Say that after you’ve had a drink or two,” Turpin snorted at him. “Come out of there, Swiftnick.”

Swiftnick picked his way to the end of the caravan and hopped down to the grass. Hopefully Dick wouldn't realise he had been ogling the mermaid’s charms and he would escape a lecture. “Are we going?” he wondered.

“Not yet. You want breakfast?” Dick grinned as Swiftnick’s stomach rumbled loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled as the youth flushed in chagrin. Shooting another warning glare at Gideon, Turpin led the way towards the hearth where Mariska was handing round slices of ham and fried potatoes. Raphael was back and sitting cross legged on the grass, drinking coffee between bites of food.

“I followed Chiswick back to his manor and watched him and the others go inside. I waited for a while to make sure they weren’t going to make another move, then came back here,” he explained when Swiftnick asked.

“Didn’t they spot our horses?” the youth fretted.

Raphael shook his head. “I dabbed a bit of mud on Toby’s markings and hid Black Bess in the trees. Give her an apple and that mare is as good as gold.”

“Bribery,” Dick snorted, flashing a smile at Mariska as she handed him a platter of food.

“Something you’re good at,” she retorted. “What have you been up to, to make him chase you?”

“I told you, he recognised us at the pub. Him and his mates were on a bit of a pub crawl and fancied chasing us for the reward I suppose...” Dick answered innocently.

“And why did he recognise you?” she pressed

“Ah.....”

“I knew it. You robbed him!”

“Only a little....” Dick protested.

“He didn’t have much on him.....” Swiftnick put in helpfully without looking up from his fried potatoes.

Mariska’s dark eyes narrowed as she shot a look at the youth. “Dick....” she grumbled reproachfully.

“What? We’re highwaymen. It’s what we do...”

“You told me you were giving it up....”

“I did no such thing....”

“You said you were going to run a pub!”

“No, I said I was thinking of running a pub eventually.....” Dick argued evasively.

“I don’t know why I bother!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

“You love me really,” Dick teased.

“I do no such thing!”

“You hid us....”

“I hid Swiftnick,” Mariska retorted. “You happened to be with him....”

“Oh, I'm hurt, love....”

“You’re a bad influence on that boy....”

Dick grinned at her. “Highwayman....”

“As if that’s an excuse!”

“Well, what do you expect? I do my best. But I’m only a lonely man tossed on the winds of fate.....” Dick declaimed, pressing one hand to his chest as she glared at him.

“Ooh, that’s good one. Let me get that down....tossed on the winds of fate....” Gideon fished out a scrap of paper and a charcoal stick that Swiftnick was to learn he was never without.

“You’re incorrigible!” Mariska groaned. “Don’t encourage him, Gideon.”

Gideon glanced up from his scribbling with a grin. “In my experience, he doesn’t need any encouragement....except....”

“Not in front of the boy,” Dick interrupted hastily.

“Oi....” Swiftnick protested.

“...because if you do you can explain it to him. He’s got a knack for asking awkward questions....” Turpin finished as Gideon opened his mouth to argue. Catching Turpin’s expression, Gideon closed his mouth again with a thoughtful expression.

“So,” Raphael said hastily. “What are you going to do now?”

Swiftnick looked up, interested in the answer to that one himself. Dick pursed his lips consideringly. “Tricky one that,” he admitted. “Spiker’s got his dragoons out looking for us, so we need to lay low for a while. Can’t go back to the pub. Chiswick might get the idea of looking for us there....” He paused, cocking a casual eye at Mariska. “Swiftnick? Any ideas?”

Swiftnick gave him an alarmed look. “No....”

“We can probably find a cave or something; keep ourselves from starving for a while at least with a bit of hunting.....” Dick mused.

“Oh for...!” Mariska exploded. “Don’t think you can get round me that way!”

“Whatever do you mean?” Dick exclaimed.  

“I'm not having him staying in a cave!” Mariska snapped, pointing at a startled Swiftnick. “You’ll stay with us for a while. No, smirking, Turpin!”

“Smirking? Me? As if I would!” Dick protested.

“Hah! You asked for it....” As Mariska turned away, heading towards one of the caravans, Dick turned to wink at Swiftnick.

“Is that a good idea?” Swiftnick whispered nervously.

Turpin’s grin widened. “It’s a perfect idea. No one will be looking for two highwaymen with the Mallory Players.”

Swiftnick frowned.  “The....?”

“Named after Sir Willoughby Mallory himself,” Dick chuckled smugly. “I was in disguise when I first met......” he paused, noting the way Swiftnick’s eyes widened. With sudden suspicion, Dick turned to look behind him to see what Mariska was up to. It wasn't Mariska that was going to be the problem he realised however, but the trim, delightfully pretty strawberry blonde tripping towards them across the grass. “Who is that?” Dick choked, shooting a dismayed look at the stunned expression on Swiftnick’s face.

“Our new ingénue,” Gideon said cheerfully.

“Ingénue?” Dick moaned.

“Tabitha Scott,” Raphael put in. “She’s about your age, Swiftnick....”

Turpin made a gurgling noise reminiscent of a drowning man, staring at the smirk on Mariska’s face as she introduced the girl to them.

Tabitha gave Turpin a considering look and then promptly sat on the grass beside Swiftnick. “You can call me Tab,” she told him brightly as she arranged her skirts carefully.

“Nick.....” Swiftnick managed.

“I didn’t know anyone else was joining us,” she commented. “Are you an actor too?” she asked curiously.

“Er....” Swiftnick wasn’t quite sure how to answer that and shot a pleading look at Turpin.

Turpin glowered back at him. He was not about to help his apprentice one little bit when it came to this young....floozy.

Mariska was kinder. “He’s considering it. He’s going to be helping us with the props and stage dressing and so on for now. Dick is an actor....”

Turpin shot a quick glare at her and she smiled back sweetly. “Somewhat....” he muttered darkly.

“But he and Nick will both be helping out until the others come back.”

“Others?” Dick looked up sharply.

“They went on ahead to Bucksby Ford. We’re going to the fair there,” Raphael explained, rising to his feet and stretching. “I’d better go and help Georgiou with the horses if we’re moving soon?”

Mariska nodded. “Dick and Nick can ride the prop wagon. I dare say your horses could do with a rest, Dick?”

Turpin rose to his own feet. “Wouldn’t hurt. We’d better take a look at them,” he agreed. “Nick, that means you too...” The last thing he as going to do was leave Swiftnick anywhere near such a temptation as Tabitha.

Swiftnick dragged his eyes away from Tabitha as she helped herself to breakfast and scrambled up to join him. Tabitha barely noticed them go. “Don’t you think she’s beautiful?” he murmured as soon as they were out of hearing range.

“Who?” Dick asked amiably.

“Tabitha!”

“Oh, her. Passably pretty I suppose....”

Swiftnick gave him an aghast look. “Passably....” he choked.

“I've seen prettier.....”

Raphael shot a look over his shoulder at them as Swiftnick gurgled and with a broad grin he strode hastily on ahead.

“But she’s beautiful.....” Swiftnick insisted.

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “She’s pretty now, yes, but she’s got no bone structure.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Swiftnick demanded hotly.

“If she had bone structure, it’d be different....That’s the kind of beauty that stays. She’s pretty because she's young.....Though not as young as she pretends I suspect....”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Swiftnick grumbled.

“Probably got no conversation either. Struck me as the vacuous type....”

“I didn’t think she was er....” Swiftnick floundered.

“Means empty headed....Much like someone else I could mention.”

Swiftnick glared at him. “She’s an actress.....She’s got to be able to remember her lines....”

“Or smile sweetly and look flustered a lot...Looks adorable and is instantly forgiven...” Dick retorted. “I've seen her kind before. Latches on to the first available male for protection. And I noticed she ignored me.”

“That’s because you’re.....” Swiftnick was going to say old but hastily thought better of it as Turpin turned a gimlet eye on him.

“Yes....?” Dick prompted forbiddingly.

“Unavailable.....”

“Nice answer,” Turpin snorted. “Even if you are lying. You were going to say old....”

“I wouldn’t dare....”

“But you’d think it....” Dick said dryly. “You want to watch her....” He paused thoughtfully. “Actually no, you’re going to be doing that anyway. Let me rephrase it.....you make sure you don’t let her make any trouble for you.”

Swiftnick frowned. “I don’t see how she could....” he said in bewilderment.

“That, Swiftnick, is because you don’t know anything about conniving little minxes like her,” Dick said solemnly. “And I hope you stay that way.”

“She’s not....”

“And you know that because you had a long and involved conversation with her, did you?”

Swiftnick flushed. “You didn’t even speak to her....” he challenged.

Turpin sighed. “No,” he admitted. “But a nice young girl would have spoken to me. Instead she ignored me completely.” Swiftnick opened his mouth to argue again and then paused. Turpin did have a point there.  “Besides, we won’t be staying with Mariska that long.  So, we don’t have time for you to fall in love....”

“I'm not going to fall in love!”

Dick sighed heavily. “Ah, if only we could all decide that, things would be so much simpler.”

Swiftnick glared at him and stomped on ahead, picking his way down the bank to the sheltering stand of trees where the horses had been tethered for the night beside the rush fringed stream. Georgiou looked up from eating the breakfast Raphael had brought him and waved a hand in greeting.

Ambling after his young partner, Dick smiled to himself and stretched lazily in the warmth of the sweet summer air. He doubted if flirting with Tabitha would do Swiftnick much harm.  He was a sensible enough lad to see through any airs and graces she might have soon enough. As long as she didn't find out who they were, everything should be fine.

                                                            * * *

“So, this is Bucksby Ford,” Swiftnick commented as he drove the caravan through the shallow waters of the stream and let the horse haul it up the gentle slope on the far side. Ahead of them a little further down the track was the sprawl of houses that was the village, while off to their right on the meadow the tents and stalls of the fair were being set up. They were following Mariska’s caravan as she led the way, while Gideon, Raphael and Georgiou brought the final two wagons and the horses along behind.

Dick, who was lazing back in his seat with his arms folded across his chest and his feet up on the footboard while he dozed, opened a lazy eye to look. “That’s it,” he agreed, sitting up with a yawn. “Nice little place, friendly people. Good pubs.”

“You've been here before?” Swiftnick wondered, shoving back the lopsided circlet of flowers he was wearing before it poked him in the eye. Mariska had brought them an armful of flower chains and garlands that she and Tabitha had made up and insisted that they both wear them. Swiftnick’s circlet was made up of bright blue flowers and Mariska had teased him, telling him that it matched his eyes and that he was to toss the other garlands to any girls he fancied. “It’s traditional,” she had reminded a spluttering Turpin before she went on to give garlands to her brothers and Gideon.

Dick nodded. “This fair’s one of Mariska’s regular stops.” He grinned as a gaggle of children erupted into view and came racing down the track, squealing and laughing and waving in greeting. Ahead of them, Mariska and Tabitha tossed handfuls of sweets to them as they clustered around the caravan. Dick waved as they went past, keeping a careful eye on them to make sure no children disappeared under the wheels as Swiftnick slowed the caravan to be on the safe side.

Soon, they were following Mariska as she turned onto the meadow heading across the flower speckled grass towards the shade of the trees where a makeshift stage was being put up. “I thought we’d have to build that,” Swiftnick commented, pointing it out to his partner.

“The villagers know what she wants here. If not, the players make do with what’s available. Bit tricky to carry an entire stage around with you....” He broke off, realising that Swiftnick had spotted a couple of pretty girls gossiping as they wandered through the fair. They glanced up at the caravans as they went by, pointing at the fanciful pictures painted on the sides. One of them dug her elbow in her friend’s side as they saw Swiftnick looking at them and the two of them giggled together.

With a grin, Swiftnick scooped up a couple of the garlands from the seat beside him and tossed them to the girls. There was another explosion of giggles as they both scrambled to catch them and then wave as the caravan lumbered past. Delighted, Swiftnick craned round the side of the caravan to wave back then hastily turned his attention back to the horse.

Turpin glowered at him. “Are you going to flirt with every girl you see?” he demanded impatiently.

Swiftnick opened his mouth to deny it indignantly, then suddenly laughed. “Yes!” he chirped in youthful pleasure. “Why not? It’s what they expect. I have a role to play!”

For once Dick was lost for words. He could hardly argue with Swiftnick when he was right. “Watch where you’re going,” he ordered instead and did his best to ignore Swiftnick’s smug expression.

Following Mariska’s directions, they halted their caravan alongside the bigger one and Swiftnick slid down from the sea to tend the horse while Dick ambled over to find out what she had planned for them to do next. Mariska was talking to two of the men who were helping to build their stage.

“It’s almost ready,” the younger of the two was saying, pausing to wave to her brothers as they pulled in behind Gideon. “A few finishing touches and then we can set up the curtains.”

“Lovely,” Mariska said approvingly, casting a critical eye over the stage. “Ah, Dick, there you are,” she said as she noticed Turpin.

“Was I supposed to be somewhere else?” Turpin responded amiably. “I don’t remember there being so many young girls the last time I was here.”

Mariska chuckled. “That’s because they’re a bit bigger now and you never had any interest in them until Nick came along....”

“And started attracting them like wasps,” Dick muttered.

“Wasps to honey,” Mariska said lightly. “Now, Dick, this is Tobias McCall,” she indicated the young brown haired man who responded with an outthrust hand and a friendly grin. “And Obadiah Toop.” The older, weather beaten man nodded shortly, managing a polite smile that never reached his oddly pale blue eyes.

“Richard Turner,” Turpin responded smoothly.

“Dick’s an actor. He’s ridden with us before,” Mariska explained. “He and Nick.....” She hesitated uncertainly.

“Nicholas Smythe,” Dick said blandly. “I acquired him as an apprentice actor, although he hasn’t shown much aptitude as yet. He’s a good willing lad though, eager to learn...” Toop gave him a funny look, grunted and turned back to his hammer and nails.

“Obadiah’s all right, but he doesn’t say much,” Tobias confided quietly. “I’d better go and find out which backdrops Gideon wants to use.”

As Tobias loped off, Dick followed Mariska back towards the wagons. “So what do they do?”

“Obadiah mostly builds the sets and looks after things. He stays in the background. I’ll never get him on the stage. Tobias joined us as a carpenter, but he’s a dab hand at painting. He took to acting like a duck to water,” she chuckled.

“What?” Dick eyed her warily.

“I thought I had my hands full with him and Raphael, now with Nick I have a blond to add to the mix,” she said in amusement. “Poor Georgiou will have another one to stand guard over.”

Dick snorted. “Swiftnick won’t be going anywhere where I can’t watch him,” he growled.

“Oh, let him have a little fun,” Mariska protested. “He’s young. You can’t expect him to be careful all the time.”

“Oh yes, I can. It keeps him and me alive,” Turpin retorted sourly. “Where is he anyway?”

Mariska looked around in surprise, seeing no sign of him. “I don’t see Tabitha either,” she admitted, puzzled.

“Georgiou!” Turpin hailed, striding towards where the dark haired young man was picketing the horses in the shade. “Have you seen Nick?”

“Aye, Gideon sent him and Tab into the village to start handing out the flyers,” Georgiou answered, patting the bay horse beside him. “They’ll be back once they satisfy their curiosity....”

“What curiosity?” Dick squawked.

“About the village,” Georgiou said blandly, giving him an innocent look. “What did you think I meant?”

“Oh er.....” Dick glared at him, counting Mariska in for good measure. “Did you arrange that?” he hissed at her.

“Me?” Mariska fluttered her dark eyelashes at him. “As if I would send off a poor innocent creature like that....with such a dangerous one as Tabitha....”

Turpin caught his tongue on his response. “Are you being sarcastic?” he demanded suspiciously instead.

“Well, how much trouble do you think he can get into?” she demanded in exasperation. “They’re only going for a walk in the village.”

Dick laughed mirthlessly. “You don’t know him the way I do,” he snorted.

“You can't keep him on too tight a rein for goodness sake. And you certainly can’t go after him without making both of you look like fools.”

Dick, who had been considering doing exactly that, hesitated.

“Besides, I promise you Tabitha won’t debauch him....” Mariska said primly, turning her heel on him and marching off with head held high.

“Nooo, she wouldn't do that,” Georgiou commented in amusement. “She won’t have time to do it properly.”

Turpin gave him a startled look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Georgiou grinned ruefully. “Let’s say, she’s not the little innocent she pretends to be. But I wouldn’t worry about Swiftnick. I think she’d prefer something with a bit more experience....”

“How’d she join you anyway?”

“She was on her way to London by stagecoach, but ran out of money. Mariska, being a soft touch and horrified by the idea of her going to London on her own, suggested she stayed with us until she could afford the stagecoach. She's not been with us long.”

“Long enough for you to get her measure.”

Georgiou shrugged. “If you ask me, she was running away. Under all those sweet looks, she’s a calculating little thing.”

“Not as young as she looks either,” Dick commented.

“No,” Georgiou agreed, meeting his eyes. “So, you watch Raphael for me and I’ll watch Swiftnick for you. Deal?”

“Deal,” Dick grinned in agreement. “Not including Gideon in that?”

“Gideon can take better care of himself than either of us can,” Georgiou retorted. “Care to give me a hand brushing down the horses? Unless you’d prefer stage building....”

“Clearly you have never seen me attempting to kill myself with a hammer,” Dick retorted dryly. “Why do you think I became a highwayman? Horses I can cope with....”

                                                            * * *

Swiftnick was a little startled to be sent off into the village with Tabitha. But Georgiou assured him he didn’t mind looking after the horse for him and nudged him in the ribs with a wink, urging him not to keep Tabitha waiting. Besides, he couldn’t resist sneaking off when Turpin wasn’t looking. It was only a few minutes walk across the meadow, made longer by Tabitha’s habit of stopping to smell and pick the flowers to wave under Swiftnick’s nose. He had managed to lose the circlet Mariska had given him, but by the time a giggling Tabitha had finished with him he had several new flowers tucked into his blond curls.

 “So, do we hand the flyers to people or what?” he wondered as they entered the village between two small half timbered cottages.

“We give them out and pin a few up where we can,” Tabitha answered brightly. “Mostly we talk to everyone and tell them we’re here. Obadiah and Tobias will have been telling people we’re coming anyway.”

“You've done this before?”

“Oh er....a few times, yes. That’s what Gideon said to do anyway,” she said, nodding hastily.

“Do we tell them what play you’re doing?”

Tabitha blushed. “I don’t know which one it is yet,” she admitted. “Gideon and Mariska haven’t decided.”

Swiftnick frowned, glancing at the top one of the flyers he had been carrying while Tabitha was prancing around picking flowers. It looked like the ones he had seen in other villages when the fair was coming; the name of the Mallory Players and a list of what Dick referred to as ‘the usual twaddle’ about the actors and the spectacular plays they would be performing. “Is that usual?” he wondered curiously. He was sure the flyers he’d seen before usually listed at least one play, sometimes more. People liked to know what they were going to see.

Tabitha shot a quick, sharp look at him, a faint frown crossing her pretty features. “No,” she said shortly. “When I asked Gideon said he wanted to see what the villagers’ mood was like before he decided.” She rushed on as Swiftnick gave her a puzzled look. “There’s the pub. We can ask to put up some flyers in there. The innkeeper will pass the word along too....”

As she bustled on ahead, Swiftnick paused to make sure the flowers were all brushed out of his hair. The girls might like it, but he was quite sure any lads who saw them would taunt him and that would only lead to a fight and another of Turpin’s interminable lectures about keeping his head down. Besides, he didn’t actually need warning to stay out of trouble.

“Are you coming or not?” Tabitha called impatiently from the pub door.

Swiftnick smiled vaguely and hurried after her. He had a feeling that Tabitha’s high-handed attitude was going to get on his nerves before long. He’d have liked to have a look round the village before heading to the pub, but an ale wouldn't go amiss after the caravan journey.

                                                            * * *

Turpin had a scowl for his apprentice when Swiftnick and Tabitha returned to the caravans, but refrained from yelling at him until the girl was out of the way and then took the youth to one side. “And what did you get up to?” he demanded as they sat on the steps of their caravan.

“Er, nothing much,” Swiftnick answered warily. “We stuck a few flyers up and talked to the innkeeper.”

“Did you see anyone you know?”

“No. Was I supposed to?”

“No dragoons?”

“No. I didn’t tell anyone who I was either. And I didn’t ask if there were any coaches coming to the fair. And I didn’t act suspicious.”

Dick gazed at him silently for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh of relief. “All right then...”

“Did you expect me to?” Swiftnick demanded impatiently.

For a moment, the highwayman looked shifty then he gave him a rueful smile. “Actually, yes,” he admitted, hurrying on as Swiftnick bristled indignantly. “All right, you know better, but you had a pretty girl to impress and I know what you’re like for showing off.”

“I do not!”

Dick snorted. “Of course you do. I’d wonder what’s wrong with you if you didn’t,” he commented in amusement. “Ease down, lad. I don’t suppose anyone would notice if you did ask about any coaches. They’d only think you wanted to find out who might be coming to the play.”

“Oh, I never thought of that,” Swiftnick admitted thoughtfully. “You mean I should’ve....?”

“No!” Dick interrupted hastily, shooting a wary look round to see if they were being overheard. “I don’t want you to even think about coaches while we’re with Mariska. She’d kill me!”

“Really?” Swiftnick murmured, all innocence.

Turpin glared at him. “And don’t think you can drop me in it with her either. She's wise to your tricks already.”

Swiftnick pulled a face at him. “So what am I allowed to do?”

“I thought you were going to entertain yourself flirting with Tab?” Turpin teased.

“I said allowed,” Swiftnick reminded him hotly. “Besides, she’s not my sort.”

“Oh? How hard did she hit you?”

“She didn’t hit me!” Swiftnick yelped in indignant protest. “She’s a know it all, too pushy....And a tease. And I think she prefers older men anyway....”

“Older men?” Dick said curiously.

“Yes, anyone who looks rich anyway. Everyone she talked to in the village was male. And there was some man at the pub, all dressed up in his finery like a gentleman. She spent about ten minutes talking to him. She said it was about the players.”

“But you didn’t believe her? Not jealous, are you?”

Swiftnick frowned, ignoring Turpin’s teasing and remembering how Tabitha had sat close beside the gentleman, their heads together as they whispered. “The odd thing was, she wasn’t really sort of flirting with him. It was more like they knew each other, sort of whispering to each other...”

“You couldn’t hear what they were saying?”

Swiftnick shook his head. “The pub was too noisy and I didn’t want to seem suspicious. Besides I was talking to the innkeeper. Do you know he’s called George?”

“Popular name,” Dick pointed out absently, musing over who Tabitha might know.

“But George Georgeson of the Royal George in George Lane of George Square?”

Turpin blinked and gave the youth a startled look. “You’re having me on....”

“Nope. He was named for his father and his father owned the pub before him. Apparently, he was very popular and they kept naming things after him. There’s also a King Harry pub on the other side of the village, a Harry Street and a Harry Square.” Swiftnick grinned impishly. “Apparently the villagers are not very original but very loyal to the king. Oh, and there’s a baker on Baker Lane that does very good pies.”

“Ah. So you won’t be hungry for your dinner then,” Dick observed, bemused by all the information Swiftnick seemed to have discovered. He knew his way around the village from his previous visit with the players, but he had to admit he hadn't paid much attention to the names.

“It was a small fruit pie!” Swiftnick protested. “That’s not dinner....”

Turpin chuckled. “We’re going to the Royal George to eat,” he soothed. 

“Oh, that’s all right then,” Swiftnick sighed in relief, then frowned. “Dick, there was something else....”

“All right. What did you do?”

“Why do you always think I've done something?!”

“It saves time....”

“Well, I didn’t!  Someone else had been putting up flyers....”

“Probably Tobias and Obadiah....”

“Not unless they’ve been putting up flyers for someone else. These were in the name of the Hardwick Players. They were all over the place. And they look new.”

Dick frowned. “Now that Mariska will want to know about....”

“Ah hah! There you are. You’ve been hiding from me, haven’t you?” Gideon cooed as he appeared around the side of the caravan and startled Turpin so much he almost fell off his seat.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he roared at him.

“Tsk, Richard, don’t tell me I managed to surprise you!”

“Next time I’ll shoot you!” Turpin shot a glare at a grinning Swiftnick. “What do you want anyway?” he snarled.

“For the two of you to pop over to my wagon with me, of course,” Gideon responded sweetly.

“Why?” Turpin growled suspiciously.

“For your fitting....”

“What fitting?” Dick asked warily.

“You can’t represent the Mallory Players looking like that,” Gideon said disdainfully, waving a hand at the highwayman’s clothes. “Mariska told me to find you both something suitable to wear for the pub. I found a lovely blue jacket for you, Nick. And a delicious russet for you, Dick...”

                                                            * * *

“The Hardwick Players?” Georgiou echoed when Swiftnick, prompted by Turpin, told them about the flyers at the inn over dinner. He shot a wary glance at Mariska who had stiffened in her seat. “Maybe they’re old flyers....”

“They looked new to me,” Swiftnick assured him around a mouthful of peas. He and Dick were sharing a table with Mariska and Georgiou while the others had a larger one on the other side of the tap room.

“You know them then?” Dick asked.

“Oh, we know them,” Mariska said grimly. “They’re run by Benjamin Hardwick, the actor....”

There was something in the way she said actor that made Georgiou wince and Dick shoot a quick look at him. “You’re not gong to start throwing things again, are you?” Georgiou asked warily. 

“No,” Mariska answered icily, savagely stabbing her roast beef.

“I wonder why Tab didn't mention them,” Georgiou said casually. 

Eyeing Mariska warily, Dick suspected it was sheer self preservation.

“She was too busy flirting to notice them,” Swiftnick observed sourly.

Mariska frowned at him. “That’s only to get the men interested in coming to the play,” she told him sternly. “And I dare say you did a bit of flirting of your own.”

Swiftnick ducked his head and hastily turned his attention back to his meal before Turpin could comment. Dick however hid a grin behind his napkin.

“At least we’re here before Hardwick this time,” Georgiou said cautiously, attempting to soothe Mariska’s temper. “And he won’t know what play we’re doing....”

Mariska sniffed. “But he knows we’re coming....”

“Maybe not. Did the flyers say where they were performing, Nick?” Georgiou asked.

Swiftnick shook his head. “There was a lot of waffle about classics and awe inspiring tragedy and stuff, but no play name. It sounded boring. Nothing I’d want to go and see anyway.”

“Would you know the name of any plays?” Dick asked dryly.

Swiftnick shot a glare at him. “I should do, Glenrae blathers on about enough of them.”

“Hardwick is very into tragedy,” Mariska commented sourly. “They also do myths and tableaux....”

“An odd combination,” Dick noted cautiously, taking note of her tone of voice.

“We’ve seen tableaux,” Swiftnick piped up.

“No, we haven’t....” Dick told him flatly.

“Yes, we have. Madame Desiree and her....”  Swiftnick was silenced by the hand Dick slapped over his mouth.

“That’s enough out of you. You’re imagining things.”

Mariska gave Turpin a frosty look. “You took him to see Madame Desiree?!” she prompted coldly.

“No, not at all.....” Dick denied it as Swiftnick wriggled free.

“Yes, we did!” Swiftnick insisted. “You remember, there was that one with all the mermaids and you offered to help the blonde one whose shells nearly fell off.....” He paused, realising from the murderous look Turpin was giving him that he had said the wrong thing as usual. “Um....it was all very er tasteful and er.....educational?” 

“I’ll bet it was educational,” Georgiou chuckled, then hastily hid his grin in his tankard as Mariska glared at him.

“It was an accident. We walked into the pub halfway through the performance,” Dick said hastily as she swung back to him. “We could hardly have walked out. It would have been rude....”

“So you let him watch?” she demanded, nodding at Swiftnick.

“What was I supposed to do? Make him wait in the stable? It was cold....”

“While you presumably stayed inside and watched? To make sure they weren’t dangerous of course....” Mariska snapped.

“It was artistic. She said so....” Swiftnick offered desperately.

Turpin drew himself up. “He’s got to learn sometime,” he said flatly. “And it was artistic....well, mostly. I've seen worse....” Mariska glared at him. “Looking won’t do him any harm.”  Mariska took a deep breath. “And we were talking about Hardwick....” Dick added hastily.

“Him!” she spat in disgust. “That puffed up popinjay!”

“You’re not keen on him then?” the highwayman asked warily.

“No, I am not!” Mariska retorted. “When he’s not poaching my players, he’s taking our spot at the fairs by sneaking in early and doing the same play as we were planning on doing. Three times he’s asked Gideon to join him! Last time he saw us, he sent one of those trollops of his after Georgiou to persuade him to join his troupe.” Dick shot a quick look at Georgiou who winked and then looked suitably virtuous when Mariska gave him a suspicious glance. “The man’s totally unscrupulous. I'm surprised he didn’t get here first this time. No doubt he’s got something planned.”

“Probably,” Georgiou agreed. “But he’s got no one like Gideon to write new plays for him. And now we’ve got Dick with us, I’m sure he’ll know how to deal with his tricks.”

Turpin raised an eyebrow at him. “I'm not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult,” he said dryly.

Georgiou grinned at him. “Whatever...” he said cheerfully and after a moment Turpin smiled back ruefully.

“I could have a little chat with him....” he suggested.

“A chat....?” Swiftnick wondered. “We could hold him up....”

“Sssshhh,” Dick hissed sharply.

“But we could....” Swiftnick argued.

Turpin shot a quick look at Mariska’s disapproving expression and sighed. “I know we could, but we’re not gong to,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” Swiftnick demanded impatiently.

“There is such a thing as reasoned discussion, you know....” Dick told him in exasperation.

“Huh?”

“Hardwick hasn’t actually done anything wrong,” Mariska told Swiftnick grimly. “Annoyed us, interfered with us, made a nuisance of himself.....” Georgiou made a small sound as her tone sharpened and she shot a quick look at him and sighed. “But he hasn’t actually done anything harmful, only unscrupulous.”

“What we need to do is play him at his own game,” Dick said thoughtfully.

“How?” Mariska asked darkly. “The one thing he does have is money. We can’t afford to lure his actors away. And I'm sure he been paying bribes to attract people.”

“Bribes?” Dick echoed curiously.

Mariska nodded gloomily. “Some of the gentry like to have a performance put on for them. Hardwick always seems to get them recently. You know how it goes, slip a few coins in the right hand and their name gets mentioned instead of ours when the gentry wants a play.”

“That’s not fair,” Swiftnick blurted as Turpin frowned pensively.

Mariska shrugged. “I did not say it was,” she admitted, then broke off, looking up at Raphael as he came over to their table. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Fine. George was wondering if we were going to sing for him,” Raphael answered. “Tab and Tobias don’t mind doing a duet. And Gideon said he’d do a prologue.”

“All right then, we will. Raphael, did George mention the Hardwick players to you?”

Raphael grimaced. “He did,” he admitted. “But nothing good. They were here a while back, but refused to perform in the pub. They didn’t make themselves popular in the village either apparently. According to George they drink too much and fight too much and make too free with the women.”

“A lesson for you,” Dick told his partner sternly.

“Me?!” Swiftnick exclaimed indignantly. “I'm not the one who personally knows every inn maid from here to....” He shut up at the dirty look Turpin gave him.  “Is that one of the things I'm not supposed to mention?” he asked, all wide eyed innocence.

“Are you sure you don’t want to put him on the stage?” Georgiou asked a fulminating Turpin curiously. “You could make money out of him with talent like that.”

“I'll give him talent if he drops me in it one more time,” Dick growled.

Mariska however chuckled, her mood lightening at hearing George's low opinion of her rivals. “He’s hardly revealing your darkest secrets, Dick. I know you too well,” she pointed out in amusement. “Now, let’s get a little show together for George. No singing from you, Dick...”

“What’s the matter with my singing?” Turpin protested.

“You are not exactly the most melodious of singers, dear,” Mariska told him wryly. “Nick, how about you?” Swiftnick shook his head in horror, attempting to shrink out of sight. Mariska ruffled his hair. “So shy....” she teased, winking at him.

Dick’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at Swiftnick’s blush. “You can stay with me then,” he decided darkly. “I'm not having you wandering under any inn maid’s skirts....”

“Keeping him out of trouble should keep you away from them too then,” Mariska laughed as she stood up and brushed down her dark red skirts. Dropping a kiss on Dick’s cheek, she made her way across the tap room to speak to Tabitha. Raphael and Georgiou had already gone to join the others and were rearranging the tables and chairs for a bit of room with the help of the eager pub’s customers.

“The players seem to be popular,” Swiftnick commented, drawing Dick’s eyes away from Mariska back to his young partner.

“They behave themselves and they’re friendly,” Dick said quietly. “This Hardwick seems to think his acting ability makes up for the poor reputation of his players.” He looked around the pub, scanning the faces for trouble. “Do you see man Tabitha was talking to?”

Swiftnick shook his head as he reached for the ale pitcher to refill his own tankard and Turpin’s.  “No, I looked he’s not here. I’ll tell you who else isn't here either; Obadiah.”

“Gideon said he was going to the King Harry instead. Apparently he knows the innkeeper there.” Dick glanced at the tankards absently. He tended to keep an eye on what Swiftnick was drinking; more out of habit than anything else. The youth could normally be trusted to avoid spirits and rarely drank too much unless he forget the rules Turpin had laid down when they first started to ride together.

“Doesn’t she look lovely,” Swiftnick murmured dreamily, starting Dick out of his thoughts into looking up. Tabitha was starting to sing, standing tall with her hands clasped neatly at her waist as she started....

“I thought you said she was a know it all....”

“She is. But she’s a pretty know it all....” Swiftnick grinned.

Dick chuckled and settled back in his seat with his ale, feeling safe enough for once to relax and enjoy the performance.

                                                            * * *

“I didn’t get the one about the hedgehog never being bothered....” Swiftnick complained as he and Dick walked back across the meadow with the others. Behind them, Georgiou and Raphael were half carrying Tobias who had started telling ribald jokes after one too many strong ales.

“Good,” said Dick firmly. He thought he’d heard a few dirty jokes in his time, but one or two of Tobias’ were enough to make even him blush.

“Maybe I should ask Tobias,” Swiftnick mused.

“I doubt if he’ll remember it,” Turpin observed dryly, glancing back to check that Mariska and Tabitha were still behind them with Gideon. Gideon had been saying something about a new play he had in mind so Dick had hurriedly dragged Swiftnick on ahead. He knew what the playwright was like once he got started.

Up ahead of them, the flicker of lanterns could be seen, glimmering through the soft flower scented darkness. “Oh good, Obadiah must have gotten back before us,” Mariska said coming up beside them and waving at the light. She companionably slipped her arm through Turpin’s.

“What’s the matter? Gideon boring you?”

“Don’t be mean. He’s only being enthusiastic. Did you two enjoy the show?”

“It was good,” Swiftnick assured her. “I don’t know what Gideon was talking about though...But some people seemed to enjoy it....” He shot a quick look at Turpin.

“Dick can explain it to you then,” Mariska said mildly, waving to Obadiah as he appeared beside the caravans. He didn’t wave back but stomped towards them grimly. “Obadiah? What is it?” she asked, her good mood evaporating as she saw his scowl. 

“Someone’s smashed the locks and searched our caravans,” he said sourly. “Everything’s a mess....”

“See?” Obadiah said sourly as Gideon stared in dismay at the tumbled contents of the caravan they shared. His eyes travelled suspiciously first to Turpin and then Swiftnick. “So, where were you, lad?”

“Me?” Swiftnick protested indignantly.

“Oh don’t be daft. They were with us at the pub,” Mariska scolded, starting to recover from her shock.

“All the time?”

“I’ve known Richard longer than I have you, Obadiah,” she reminded him sharply.

“What about him?” Obadiah jerked a thumb at Swiftnick.

Swiftnick stiffened in anger and Turpin put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Go check our wagon,” he told him. Swiftnick shot an annoyed look at the highwayman, but turned on his heel and went. Dick turned back to Obadiah. “Nick didn’t do this,” he said flatly. “Neither of us have any reason to do it.”

“How do I know that? You turn up unexpected like....”

“That’s enough,” Mariska warned him in exasperation, turning to Georgiou as he rejoined them. “Well?”

“My wagon’s a mess as well. Someone was looking for something. Yours doesn’t look so bad though. Looks like they gave up...Tab’s having hysterics though. And Raphael's gone to get a bucket of water to chuck over Tobias.”

“Tobias is hysterical?” Dick said in surprise.

“No. Drunk. I thought we might want him awake.”

“What are we going to do?” Gideon said faintly. He had climbed into his caravan and was anxiously examining the contents of the trunk where he kept the plays.

“Find out what’s missing first,” Dick suggested, ignoring the way Obadiah was staring at him.

Mariska nodded. “That’s a good idea. And I’d better calm Tab down.”

“Dick.....” Swiftnick called from the prop wagon as Mariska headed for her caravan. Dick was relieved to get away from Obadiah’s pale stare to see what the youth wanted. It was obvious enough. The young highwayman was waiting by the caravan’s open doors, staring uneasily at the jumble of props and equipment inside.

Turpin gritted his teeth for a moment. “Did you have anything with you, you shouldn’t have?” he whispered.

“No. You?”

“No....” Dick said thoughtfully as he tugged at the door and examined the battered old iron lock that had fastened it.

“You think they were looking for us?” Swiftnick wondered uneasily.

“I doubt it. Check the guns....”

“Obadiah thinks I did it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Dick retorted.

“Because I was with you....” Swiftnick muttered.

Dick laughed. “No, because you wouldn’t have smashed the locks and I’ve taught you to search better than this....Now, make sure they didn’t find the guns while I talk to Mariska.”

“You going to tell her I didn’t do it?” Swiftnick asked anxiously as he climbed into the caravan and started shifting a pile of cloth to find the concealed compartment where they had hidden their flintlocks and saddlebags.

“She knows you know which side your bread’s buttered, lad. I want to find out if she knows what they were looking for.”

                                                            * * *

By the time Dick returned to the caravan half an hour or so later, Swiftnick had given up on attempting to tidy up the mess and gone to bed. Turpin called him softly as he climbed into the wagon, not wanting to get himself shot unexpectedly. Swiftnick watched him over the top of the book he was reading by candlelight as Dick settled on his own straw pallet and stretched before starting to peel out of his jacket.

“Well?” the youth prompted sharply when Turpin turned his attention to his boots without commenting.

“Well what? I thought you’d be asleep...” Dick had been considering asking his partner for help with his boots but he could tell from Swiftnick’s voice that he wasn't in the mood.

“What did Mariska say about me?”

Dick smiled to himself. “What makes you think we were talking about you? I told you, she doesn't think you did it.”

Swiftnick slapped his book shut with a thump. “What took you so long then?”

Turpin half shrugged as he wrestled his first boot off. “Did you find the guns?”

“Yes. As far as I can tell nothing’s missing. Dick....”

“She doesn’t know who did it, although at a guess it’s probably someone from the Hardwick Players,” Dick answered calmly.  “No one else seems to be missing anything either. They’ve been through Gideon’s trunk, but all his plays are still there.”

Swiftnick frowned. “What were they after then?” he wondered, baffled. “Does Mariska have a strongbox?”

Dick nodded. “And it’s still safely hidden away. Whoever it was didn't find it.” He dragged off his boot and leaned back against the side of the wagon, absently wriggling his stockinged toes. “It’s odd. All the caravans were searched, but Mariska’s looks like it was only done for the look of things.”

“Maybe they got disturbed....”

“Maybe....”

“Or they could have found what they were looking for....”

“Mariska would say if she was missing anything. No reason for her to hide anything.”

“Tabitha might and she shares her caravan....”

“Good point. But there was no chance of getting much out of her, sobbing all over the place she was..”

“She’s an actress,” Swiftnick pointed out flatly.                                                  

“There’s that,” Dick shifted round to stretch out on his pallet and fold his arms behind his back. “What puzzles me is why they didn’t finish searching Mariska’s caravan. It was like they were only interested in the others.”

“So they knew where what they were looking for was probably hidden.”  Dick turned his head slightly to look at him. Swiftnick was lying on his side watching him, pillowing his head on his arm. “Unless....” Swiftnick continued thoughtfully. “They found it in Mariska’s caravan and searched the others to make it look as if they hadn’t.”

Turpin chuckled. “You’ll tie yourself into knots with that kind of thinking,” he told him, amused. “Those three caravans have one thing in common. You, me, Obadiah and Tobias....”

“You think they were looking for us?” Swiftnick asked in alarm.

“No. We’ve got nothing anyone would want so no need to search the wagons. We’re worth more in person than any valuables we might have,” Turpin answered reassuringly. “But we joined the players as strangers and Obadiah and Tobias weren’t travelling with them until we got here.”

Swiftnick yawned. “So, it could be something one of them had....”

“Or someone thinks they had. Something small enough to be hidden in the caravans....”

“Maybe Obadiah did it. He wasn’t with us at the pub. He had time.”

Dick pursed his lips, considering as he gazed up into the shadowy roof of the caravan “Could be. But he shares with Gideon, he could search any time he wanted to without making it so obvious.”

“All the more reason for it to be him,” Swiftnick mumbled.

“Could as easily be Tabitha,” Dick pointed out and paused thoughtfully.  “And she’s sharing with Mariska. Maybe whoever it was knew that it wasn’t there and that’s why they didn't make a thorough search. We don’t know much about her. Perhaps someone wanted to confirm who she is....”  He stopped, glancing curiously over at the silent stripling. Swiftnick had fallen asleep.  With a rueful smile, Dick leaned over and blew out the candle then settled back to sleep, letting the warm night air be his blanket.

                                                            * * *

“I thought we would start rehearsals,” Gideon announced as they gathered around the fire the next morning for a late breakfast. To Dick and Swiftnick’s relief, Obadiah had already gone into the village in search of a blacksmith for new locks. Tobias had gone down to the stream in an effort to wake himself up enough to be of some use and Mariska and Tabitha had gone to the village to do some shopping. “Richard, as I recall, you used to be rather good with a sword....”

Dick paused in mid sip of his coffee, eyeing him warily. “Used to be?”

Gideon gave him a mischievous grin. “I would like you to pass on your expertise on to Tobias if you would. His skills are a little basic....”

“He uses a sword like a club!” Raphael laughed.

“Listen to you talk!” Georgiou snorted. “You’re not much better.”

“Enough,” Gideon warned. “Dick?”

Turpin shrugged. “Tell me who you want to win the fight and I’ll see what I can do.” He glanced at Swiftnick who was munching happily on the fresh bread rolls Georgiou had fetched from the village. “Nick’s coming along with a sword. He can help.” Swiftnick nodded hopefully. Sword practise sounded like more fun than backdrop painting.

“If you want,” Gideon agreed.

“What play are we doing?” Georgiou asked.

“The Lady’s Slipper,” Gideon answered. “We’ll have a read through after breakfast. And  I thought I’d start writing a new play....” He slid a sly glance at Turpin. “I thought I’d call it the Lady and The Highwayman.”

“Sounds like fun....” Raphael said cheerfully.

Sipping his coffee slowly, Turpin shot a quick look at him and then turned his suspicious gaze on Gideon.

“And who would that be about then?” Swiftnick asked brightly.

Gideon didn’t quite smirk. “I thought....” he paused deliberately. “....Dick Turpin....”

Dick nearly choked on an incautious sip of coffee. “What?!” he gurgled as Swiftnick leaned over to helpfully thump him on the back.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Tobias commented as he wandered into ear shot and sat down beside Georgiou. He ruffled one hand through his wet hair and eyed Gideon curiously. “I thought they hanged him though. At York wasn’t it?”

“Some say he roams the roads as a ghost....” Raphael murmured sweetly. 

“Haunting all the pubs....” Georgiou grinned as Dick struggled not to glare at them.

 “A ghost story then is it?” Tobias wondered, helping himself to a bread roll.

“No,” Gideon said mildly, half smiling. “I thought I’d start with Turpin’s cunning escape from being hanged at York....”

“How would he do that then?” Tobias prompted.

“Maybe his partner helped him,” Swiftnick suggested helpfully, ignoring Turpin’s glare.

“Turpin didn’t have a partner....” Tobias pointed out dubiously.

“He does now,” Swiftnick retorted.

“You think he’s alive then?”

Swiftnick caught his breath on his answer. “I've heard tales about him being alive....” he said slowly, not daring to look at a silently fuming Turpin.

“Won’t be him though, will it?” Tobias argued. “They all call themselves Dick Turpin. Must be hundreds of them, right Richard?”

“Oh hundreds,” Dick agreed sourly. “So I've heard anyway. And I've heard his partner is a girl.....” It was Swiftnick’s turn to glare at his partner.

“Exactly,” Gideon cut in. “I shall have it that Turpin is in love with a beautiful Baroness, who helps him escape. They plan to run away together and Turpin will give up being a highwayman. But she is tragically killed.....”

“By her husband?” Raphael suggested.

“Yes, indeed, by her husband.  Filled with remorse and the need for revenge, Turpin takes to the road, plotting to destroy the Baron. But.....”

By now, Tobias and Raphael were both caught up in the story and listening open mouthed. “You can’t stop there....” Tobias prompted indignantly.

“....when he robs a coach, he unexpectedly comes across a young woman, called....” Gideon shot a mischievous look at Swiftnick. “....Nicole, who is to marry his enemy and become the new Baroness. Still driven by vengeance, he kidnaps her, although he does her no harm. But it seems that Nicole does not wish to marry the Baron at all, for she has been forced into it by her family....Nor does she wish to return to her family, but falls in love with Turpin and joins him.....”

“Let me guess,” Dick said darkly. “....as Swiftnick?”

Swiftnick gurgled incoherently and with a dark grin, Turpin leaned over and patted him on the back. “Take more water with it,” he advised him.

 Gideon grinned, enjoying himself. “I think it is an excellent beginning, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Dick said sourly. “No one’s going to believe it....”

“Who’s going to be Turpin?” Tobias wanted to know however.

Gideon slid a glance sideways at Turpin. “I thought perhaps.....?”

“Oh no, not me....” Dick shook his head firmly. “And you haven’t written it yet....” The look he gave Gideon also silently added ‘And you’re not going to if I have anything to do with it...’

“Georgiou as Turpin and Tab as Nicole perhaps?” Raphael suggested slyly. “And Mariska can be the Baroness. She’d make a very good Baroness....”

“Maybe the Baroness wasn’t killed,” Swiftnick said suddenly. “Maybe she was only wounded and comes back. And Nicole turns out to be a thieftaker....”

“A thieftaker?” Dick said in astonishment. He really did wonder where his young partner came up with such flights of fancy at times.

“And Turpin’s saved from her by his partner....” Swiftnick enthused.

“What partner?” Tobias asked in bewilderment.

“The real one. The one who was wounded which was why Turpin let himself be captured so he could get away. Turpin thought he’d been killed too, but his partner’s been looking for him all the time. He’s fallen in with the Baroness and the two of them rescue Turpin from the evil young woman’s clutches....”

“Now wait a minute....” Dick began in protest.

“Oh, no, it’s a good story,” Gideon said quickly. “A nice twist in the tail.....”

“It makes...Turpin look like an idiot!” Dick snapped. “What’s wrong with it being a romance?”

“No, no, no, Richard, every good play needs at least one sword fight....per act....” Gideon said hastily.

“And the Baron? What happens to the Baron?” Tobias wanted to know.

 “Ooh, I know!” Swiftnick yelped, on a roll. “He’s his brother!”

“What?” They all looked at him in confusion.

“The Baron is really Turpin’s younger brother. And only got the title because everyone thought Turpin was killed in....somewhere foreign.....” Swiftnick waved his hands, rushing on as they all stared at him, agog. “He’d run off because he’d been disgraced....probably over a girl.....but it wasn’t really his fault and Turpin can now prove it. Only the Baron doesn’t know who Turpin really is. And there can be a really big sword fight at the end and the Baron gets killed.....only not by Turpin, because that wouldn’t be right, but by the girl maybe. And Turpin gets his title back!”

“Where did you get all this from?” Dick wondered aloud, bemused.

“From Sir Willoughby” Swiftnick flashed a sparkling grin at him.

Dick winced. “You never did....” he said however.

“Sounds like his style,” Gideon murmured casually, enjoying Dick’s discomfiture.

“Sir Willoughby?” Tobias said curiously. “Who’s he then?”

“A poet I happen to know,” Turpin said flatly.

“He’s a very flamboyant personality,” Georgiou added helpfully.

“Oh, you know him too then?”

“We named ourselves after him; the Mallory Players,” Raphael told him.

“Oh! That Sir Willoughby!” Tobias exclaimed as he caught on. “I've always wanted to meet him. Do you think he might turn up here?”

“I do hope not,” Georgiou commented meaningfully, exchanging a look with Gideon and Turpin. “I think we can do without any more complications.”

“What complications?” Tobias wondered, baffled.

Turpin snorted. “You know, Tobias reminds me of you,” he muttered under his breath to Swiftnick, who glared back at him.

“What did I do?” the youth protested.

“He shares your knack for daft questions....”

“What daft questions?” Swiftnick demanded and then flushed as Turpin raised an eyebrow at him.

Georgiou meanwhile was staring at Tobias blankly. He could hardly tell him who Dick really was. “The caravans being searched,” Gideon explained smoothly for him. “Now, we really must start rehearsing. No reason why we can’t use the stage is there, Tobias dear? I need to do a little bit of blocking....”

As Gideon urged everyone to their feet and off to get their scripts and props, Turpin turned a sour look on Swiftnick. “You are so not helping,” he told him sternly.

“What?” Swiftnick gazed back at him innocently. “I thought it’d make the play more exciting.”

“Gideon doesn’t need any encouragement from you,” Dick retorted. “We don’t want anyone to know who we are, remember?”

“Yes, but....”

“I’m starting to think we should move on. I doubt if Chiswick is looking for us now. And we can avoid Spiker easily enough....”

“But I wanted to see the play,” Swiftnick protested.

“You do?” Dick looked at him in surprise, then frowned suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you mean the Lady and the Highwayman?”

“No, the Lady’s Slipper. Raphael told me it’s one of his favourites. Lady Constance has taken a lover and she wears a pair of fancy diamond studded shoes her husband has given her to meet him. But she loses one of her shoes during an assassination....”

“I think you mean assignation....” Dick corrected, amused. “Although an assassination would make it interesting....”

“Anyway, she loses it at an assignation at the harbour....”

“....arbour in the garden.....” Dick said dryly. He was never quite sure whether Swiftnick was winding him up or not at times. “And the play is all about the efforts of Lady Constance’s lover to get the shoe back to her before her husband realises it’s missing. I've seen this one....”

“Oh...” Swiftnick drooped. “I’ll get the saddlebags then...”

“I thought you wanted to see the play?” Dick asked mildly.

“I would have liked to.....” Swiftnick admitted, then brightened up hopefully. “You mean we can stay?”

“Aye, why not? It’s one way of getting you to the theatre....”

                                                            * * *

“No, you idiot! Your left, not my left!” Dick screamed at Tobias, dodging hastily as the  actor nearly run him though. Tobias fumbled and almost dropped his sword again. Dick had been endeavouring all morning to teach Tobias the rudiments of sword play and had long ago come to the conclusion that it was hopeless. He was starting to think that Tobias really would be better off with a club.  

“Sorry,” Tobias mumbled, abashed.

“Want me to show him?” Swiftnick, who was idly painting grass on the backdrop, called helpfully. Tobias had shown him a trick for painting the flowers with a daub of two colours on the brush and a deft swirl of the wrist that created surprisingly realistic blossoms. Swiftnick had become a dab hand at it and Gideon had been quite impressed with the meadow he had created.

Turpin glared at him. “You want him to skewer me?”

“Hey, you said I’d improved!” Swiftnick argued indignantly.

“Compared to Tobias you’re ruddy brilliant, but I can’t cope with both of you,” Dick retorted, turning back to Tobias while Swiftnick was still frowning over the backhanded compliment. “Now, listen,” he growled. “You lunge to your left....That’s that way.....Got that?”

“Yes, Dick....” Tobias nodded.

“All right, now one more time....Follow me....Step....”

As Turpin moved through the first steps of the sword fight he had blocked out with Georgiou, Tobias copied him, tracking him across the stage. He was light on his feet and graceful enough, but he didn’t have a feel for the sword. Dick had to admit that his efforts to teach Swiftnick had been much easier; Swiftnick had had a knack for the weapon. “Now lunge.....”

Tobias lunged obediently and Dick successfully deflected his blade, twisting deftly aside. “Yay!” Tobias yelped in triumph as Swiftnick cheered and applauded.

Dick merely suppressed a sigh of relief and stepped back, catching his breath.

“Most impressive,” an unfamiliar voice said however. Turpin’s head snapped round and he stared suspiciously at the well built, finely dressed older man in a fancy wig who was watching them from in front of the stage. He lifted his hands in polite applause as he smiled. “Is this to be part of the play?”

“And you are, sir?” Dick said warily.

“Dick, this is Benjamin Hardwick....” Tobias introduced him sourly.

“Ah, one of our rivals...” Turpin said blandly.

Hardwick’s round face tensed a little around the eyes, but his smile remained fixed in place. “Are we not all rivals?” he said mildly. “For all the world’s a stage....”

“And all the men and women merely players,” Dick finished with a little bow. “Richard Turner, sir. What can we do for you?”

“This is naught but a social call....”

“Social call?” Tobias snorted.

Dick shot a warning look at him. “Indeed, sir?”

Hardwick gracefully inclined his head, his wig dipping over his shoulders like long white ears. “I thought to see how dear Mariska was,” he murmured. “And I find she has new company....You have a familiar look to you, Mr Turner. Perhaps we have met before?”

“Perhaps you have seen me in a play then,” Dick replied blandly, aware that Hardwick’s eyes had travelled past him to consider Swiftnick as the youth came up behind his partner. “But I do not believe we have actually met, Mr Hardwick. I am sure I would remember you.”

“Hmmh, perhaps. So, which play do you perform?”

Tobias opened his mouth and got Swiftnick’s elbow jabbed sharply into his ribs to silent him. “A Subtle Jest,” Turpin lied coolly. “Perhaps you have heard of it? A missing Shakespear play.”

“A play by Shakespear?” Hardwick gurgled. “You do indeed jest with me.”

Turpin smiled mysteriously.  “Indeed, sir.”

“Mr Hardwick, how nice of you to join us,” Georgiou said waspishly as he arrived, still draped in the long black cloak Gideon had been fitting him for. It was clasped with a huge sparkling gemmed brooch that glittered in the sunshine. Hardwick started as he saw it. And so did Turpin...

“Georgiou, how nice to see you again. And how is dear Mariska? Is she here?” he said however.

“She’s rehearsing with Raphael.”

“Ah, excellent. I must greet her....”

“Not while rehearsing, I'm afraid. You understand I'm sure.” Georgiou said politely.

Hardwick’s eyes hardened. “Oh, of course,” he said blandly. “Well, I must be going. Do tell her I stopped by.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of it,” Georgiou assured him.

“Quite. It was nice meeting you, Mr Turner. Perhaps you would join me at the King Harry later and I shall buy you a drink?”

“Perhaps,” Dick said easily, smiling vaguely. Hardwick bowed and stalked off, picking his way across the grass.

“Popinjay,” Tobias muttered at his back. “Dick, you know what he wants, don’t you?”

“A good hard kick if you ask me,” Georgiou grumbled.

“Why? He was polite....”  Swiftnick wondered, baffled.

“He wanted to take Dick away. He does that every time we get a new actor....” Tobias explained. “And he keeps sniffing round Mariska’s skirts. He’s got some idea of marrying her....”

“Marrying her?” Swiftnick exclaimed, aghast. “Him? But he’s....ancient....”

“He’s not that old,” Georgiou said grimly, breaking off to eye Dick warily. The highwayman had jumped down from the stage and was peering at the brooch. “What is it?”

“May I?” Dick asked, expertly unpinning and relieving Georgiou of the brooch almost before he knew what the highwayman was doing. “Where’d did you get this?”

Georgiou shrugged. “It’s only costume jewellery....”

Dick half laughed as he weighed the brooch in his hand, speculating on its value. Now, if he’d taken this off someone..... “My dear Georgiou, I know costume jewellery and believe me, this isn't it. This is real.....”

“Real?” Mariska echoed in astonishment a few minutes later, gazing in awe at the glittering brooch that filled her hand. They were gathered around Gideon’s wagon where he had been choosing costumes for the play while Mariska and Raphael rehearsed their lines.  

“The back’s gold and the gems are ruby and diamond,” Dick told her. “It’s a nice piece...familiar looking....”

“But it’s huge.....” Raphael argued, taking from her hand; it was easily four inches or so across and glittered dazzlingly bright.

“It’s old,” Dick explained. “And worth a fortune. Not the sort of thing you’d wear now, of course, more’s the pity...” He paused, realising from the look Mariska gave him that he was speaking from a  highwayman’s perspective. “But....er....someone must have missed it....”

“Hardwick?” Swiftnick suggested. “He spotted it....”

“Did he?” Tobias said in surprise.

Swiftnick nodded. “Oh yes....surprised him it did.....”

Dick smiled faintly. Swiftnick was a lot more observant than he used to be. “Not the sort of thing he’d wear though....”

“He might. He’s popinjay enough....” Raphael commented.

Dick shook his head. “Thinks he’s got style that one. I doubt if it was his. So, where did it come from? Gideon?”

“I found it in the repair box,” Gideon said hastily. “It was wrapped up in an old torn cloak and stuffed in down the side. I assumed someone forgot to take it off when they tore the cloak and shoved it in there when we were packing up. I never thought anything of it.”

“Has any of you seen it before?” Dick asked, looking round at them all. Everyone shook their heads.

“Where’s Tab?” Swiftnick wondered however.

“She went to get pies for dinner,” Mariska answered absently as she gazed at the brooch doubtfully.

“Um, it wouldn’t be hers, would it?” Swiftnick asked.

“It’s hardly the sort of thing she’d wear either,” Raphael snorted.

“But if she was running away she might have taken it to sell....” Swiftnick argued.

“Tabitha wouldn’t do that sort of thing,” Mariska said firmly. “Raphael, if you’ve finished fondling the thing......”

“You’d better give it to me to look after,” Turpin said quickly, plucking it out of Raphael’s hand before Mariska could take it.

“Dick....” Mariska reproached.

“Why don’t you come for a walk with me,” Dick countered quickly as he slipped the brooch into his waistcoat pocket.

“Ooh, romance....” Raphael teased. Georgiou snorted and clipped him round the ear, but he was grinning. Swiftnick was barely hiding a smirk as Dick shot a glare at him. Loftily ignoring all of them, Mariska took the arm Dick offered and let him walk her away from the caravans.

“I'm not sure you should keep the brooch,” she commented as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Why? What do you think I'm going to do with it?”

“I think it’s dangerous for you, that’s all....” Mariska protested. “What if someone finds it on you?”

“Better if they find it on me, than on you. I'm the highwayman, not you. You pretend you didn’t know and then lie about Swiftnick to keep him out of it. Everything will be fine.”

Mariska smiled. “You’re a good man, Dick.”

“That’s not what you usually say about me,” Turpin teased wryly.

“But we both know it to be true,” she replied. “What are you going to do with the brooch?”

Dick sighed. “Can’t keep it. Can’t sell it....”

“No?”

Turpin smiled faintly at the edge to her voice. “No. It’s not the sort of thing a real highwayman would take, love. Too easily recognisable. You’d have to break it up and by the time you’ve done that, it’s worthless.”

“Ah...” Mariska relaxed slightly, her grip on his arm moulding more comfortably into his.

“Did you think I hid it there?” Dick asked sharply, affronted. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I didn’t think you would, but if you’d been in trouble....”

“Stupid place to hide it, if I’d been stupid enough to take it in the first place.” Dick said coolly.

“Who do you think took it then?”

Turpin cocked his head to one side, considering. “Not you or the lads. Gideon wouldn’t have let Georgiou wear it if he knew what it was and by the same token Georgiou wouldn’t have worn it....”

“I see....” Mariska sniffed.

“Turnabout it fair play,” Dick remarked. “Could have been Obadiah, Tobias, even Tabitha....”

“Oh, no, I can’t believe it. They’re our friends....”

“You’re a little too trusting, love. But I doubt if it was one of them anyway. Whoever hid it in the box, did it in a hurry. I doubt if they expected to leave it there for long.”

Mariska looked at him with wide dark eyes. “Ooh, do you think that’s why the caravans were searched?”

“Could be. But that means whoever it is, didn’t know where the box was....If it’d been one of your troupe....What is it?”

Mariska had come to a stop. “Searching....” she exclaimed. “Dick! The dragoons searched our caravans! What if they'd found it?”

“Well, they didn’t,” Turpin pointed out briskly. “When was this?”

“Oh, I'm not sure. Not long ago. There was a huge masquerade ball at the Morehamptons and we put on a play. The Hardwick Players were there too. Someone got robbed after they left and the dragoons searched everyone and everywhere looking for something.  We were all in a tizzy. You can imagine what a hurry we left in.”

“And your repair box got shoved in any old how and didn’t turn up until now,” Dick mused thoughtfully. “It’d fit. The dragoons were coming and the brooch was hidden in a panic. Before it could be retrieved though, you’d packed up and left. You don’t remember who got robbed, do you?”

“No,” Mariska admitted. “I don’t anyone ever told us....”

“How about who joined you after that?”

“Joined us?” Mariska gave him a blank look. “Only Tabitha, but that was my idea. You can hardly think she’d.....”

“She’s had plenty of time to search,” Dick pointed out.

“But she was with us at the pub....”

Turpin nodded. “True enough. But your caravan which she shares with you, wasn’t ransacked like the others, was it?”

“I can’t believe it, I won’t believe it. She’s such a sweet girl....”

“She’s an actress,” Dick pointed out blandly.

Mariska shot a worried look at him. “What are you going to do?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, I'm not going to hand the brooch over to her....”

“You can’t keep it....”

“I can, for now at least. Best thing to do is find out who it belongs to and return it....”

                                                            * * *

“Return it?!” Swiftnick exclaimed, aghast. He and Turpin were standing in the wings of the stage, watching the play in the soft early evening light. The youth was standing guard over the props, ready to hand them out as necessary. Dick, heavily disguised by paint and powder, was playing the part of the outraged husband and was waiting for his turn on stage, where Mariska’s hysterics at the discovery her husband had discovered her missing shoe were currently being soothed by Gideon, playing her erstwhile lover.

“That’s what I said,” Dick said blandly, adding under his breath, “As soon as I find out who it belongs to....”

“But we’d have to rob at least five coaches to make a haul worth as much as that brooch. And that includes selling the coaches!”

“Hush, not so loud. Do you want everyone to hear?” Dick scolded. He doubted if anyone would hear since the audience was laughing at the antics on stage, but it paid to be cautious. “Besides, the brooch isn’t ours....”

“Since when did that ever stop us?” Swiftnick demanded hotly.

Turpin lifted his quizzing glass and inspected him through it. “Shame on you, sir, shame....” he reproved. “We don’t want Mariska getting the blame for it, do we?”

“No one’s going to blame her. Chiswick’s already blaming us!”

Turpin blinked and gave him a bewildered look. “What? Why? What for?”

“For robbing him!”

Dick goggled at him for a moment. “I don’t think I could ever be drunk enough not to remember taking it, Swiftnick,” he managed at last. “And you’d better not have....”

Swiftnick frowned at him in exasperation. “But that was the whole point of robbing him, you said!” he yelped in frustration.

“What?”

“Chiswick said we took the Star. It was in the newssheet. So, we robbed him so you could tell him we didn’t! Only I don’t think he believed us. That’s why he came after us when he saw us at the pub, because of the Star.....” Swiftnick slowed to a halt at the expression on his partner’s face.  “Isn’t it?” he asked in a small voice. “That’s what I thought anyway.....”

“That’s why the brooch is familiar; there was a drawing and description of it in the newssheet....” Dick groaned.

“Didn’t you know?” Swiftnick pressed curiously. “I thought for certain you’d recognised it....”

Turpin was saved from having to answer, by realising he was about to miss his cue. Grabbing up his cane, he hastily minced out onto the stage, greeting Mariska and Gideon with a cheerful, “What ho!”

For Dick, the rest of the play passed in a blur; a tangle of scenes to follow and tongue twisting lines to remember. Acting itself came back to him easily enough; he had pretended t be the likes of Sir Willoughby often enough that he could slip into his role with ease. Only the lines occasionally gave him pause, but as long as he remembered where they were in the play, then he could find something to trigger his memory if it stalled.

At last, it was over and they could take their bows to a pleasingly appreciative audience before they retreated to the pub for celebratory drinks and a meal. Like the others, Turpin was about to slip away and remove his costume and paint when Swiftnick practically materialised out of nowhere under his nose.

“What are you doing?!” Dick hissed at him in annoyance.

“It’s him!” Swiftnick hissed back, seizing his partner’s arm and dragging him back the way he had come.

“Who’s him?” Turpin wondered in confusion,

“Him!” Swiftnick pointed into the crowd. “There!”

“Where?”

“Him! Talking to Tab! He’s the one she was talking to at the pub when we arrived....”

Frowning, Dick peered into the crowd, eyeing the foppishly dressed younger man talking to Tabitha. The two of them were imperfectly concealed between two carriages and from his stiff stance and the way Tabitha kept looking around her they were both worried about being seen together. “So?”

“Don’t you get it?”

“Apparently not. Besides, I thought you said he was an older gentleman....”

“I did not!”

“You implied it....”

Swiftnick hesitated. “Well, he is older....than me anyway....” he said fiercely. “But what do you think?”

“So, she’s got herself a flirt....Jealous, are you?” Dick hid a grin as Tabitha and her young man moved closer together, sharing a quick furtive embrace.

Swiftnick ignored the dig. “Raphael says that’s Cornelius Constantine. He’s an actor....”

“With a name like that, he’d have to be. Either that or a highwayman....” Dick retorted sarcastically, then paused as a thoughtful light entered his eyes. “Ah hah.....” he said softly.

“Or playing the part?” Swiftnick suggested. “He’s with the Hardwick Players...”

Turpin smiled wickedly, watching the couple hiding in the shadows. “Ah yes....” he said softly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “A boy playing a girl and a girl playing a boy....”

“What?” Swiftnick eyed him in bewilderment.

Dick glanced at him with a grin. “Chiswick was robbed by us, he said. Yes?”

Swiftnick nodded. “So he said.....”

“So, who was playing your part, my lad, hmmh?”

Swiftnick frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Her? A girl?!” he blurted in outrage.

Turpin chuckled, noting that Constantine and the girl had broken apart. Tabitha was scuttling off back towards the caravans while Cornelius straightened his waistcoat and stepped out of the shadows in the opposite direction. “The play’s the thing wherein to catch the conscience of the king....” Dick murmured in delight.

“What?! I think this acting thing’s having a funny effect on you, Dick....”

Turpin patted his shoulder. “Never mind. Go find Gideon and tell him I want to talk to him,” he urged and briskly stepped forward, twirling the cane he still carried. “Oh, I say, sir, Cornelius Constantine, isn’t it?” he called.

Constantine came to a startled halt, flashing a quick look round to check Tabitha had gone before focusing on the advancing Turpin. “You have the advantage of me....”

“Richard Turner,” Dick announced himself. Constantine introduced himself. “Yes, yes, of course. Admirable.”

“You know me, sir....”

“Oh but of course. Did you enjoy the play?”

“Oh yes, it was delightful, quite delightful....”

“Yes, Tabitha is quite excellent as the go between, isn’t she?”

“Quite....” Constantine said faintly.

“You should come to rehearsals,” Dick invited. “Perhaps we can lure you away from Hardwick. You’d be quite a feather in our hat....”

Cornelius floundered. But under Dick’s gushing flattery and deft manoeuvring soon found himself agreeing to come to rehearsals and left in a state of bewildered satisfaction at being so approved of by an apparently well known actor.

Grinning to himself, Dick watched him go with a dark twinkle in his eyes.

                                                            * * *

“You want me to do what?!” Gideon screeched at the pub a while later. He had been startled to be cornered by Turpin, since it was usually the other way around. Swiftnick’s baffled presence behind his partner wasn't really reassuring him either. “I can’t write a whole play in one evening!”

“I don’t want the whole play. Merely a scene or two.....” Dick coaxed.

“But you threatened to shoot me if I so much as wrote a single line of it...”

“I changed my mind....” Dick soothed, pressing a tankard into the playwright’s hand.

Gideon took a gulp of the ale and considered, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And what about the rest of the play?” he pressed.

“What about it?” Dick asked suspiciously.

“Can I write it?”

“No...”

“Then I won’t write the scenes.”

“I need them....”

“So get Sir Willoughby to do it....”

Turpin gritted his teeth, considering. “All right....” he grated reluctantly.

“I can write it?”

“If and only if you let me read it before you show it and I approve of it. And if you don’t use me or Swiftnick in it....” Dick ignored Swiftnick’s muffled protest. The youth rather liked the idea of being a character in a play. “Do we have an accord?”

 Gideon was silent, supping his ale while he contemplated the deal. “We have an accord,” he agreed. “What scenes do you want?”

Dick grinned darkly. “One to catch the attention of a highwayman.....”

                                                            * * *

“But why do I have to wear a dress? It’s only a rehearsal!” Swiftnick wailed as a harassed looking Gideon struggled to lace him up at the back.

Leaning against the side of the wagon, watching to make sure Gideon didn’t get any funny ideas, Dick grinned to himself. “So you can look the part. You look lovely,” he told him solemnly.

Swiftnick shot a look of loathing at him. “Why can’t Tab do it?”

“I told you why,” Turpin sighed. “Because if she knows, Cornelius whatisname will know and the game will be up.”

“Why can’t you do it then? Why does it have to be me?”

“A fine thing that would look, you pretending to be him and him pretending to be you,” Gideon snorted. “Now, turn round,” He ordered, giving a bewildered Swiftnick a firm push to turn him around so he could straighten the dress bodice and start pinning on a row of silk flowers to the pink silk.

“Does it have to be pink?” Swiftnick complained.

Gideon looked up at him musingly  for a moment. “It’s a well known fact that all blond girls wear pink, even if it doesn’t suit them,” he answered.

“But I'm not a girl!”

Gideon grinned and patted Swiftnick’s cheek. “Trust me, Swiftnick; no one will mistake you for a girl.”

Turpin grunted at that although Swiftnick looked definitely relieved. “Stop flirting with him, Gideon,” the highwayman warned darkly.

“Hmmh, flirting with him is all anyone could do. Do you have any idea how difficult was to get him laced up? Getting him undone is going to take forever....”

Dick chuckled. “Clearly you have no experience with undressing females then.”

“Ah, but he’s not female is he....” Gideon retorted, winking at an uneasy Swiftnick.

“I've got a pistol, you know,” Swiftnick threatened.

Gideon’s grin widened. “And there was I thinking you were pleased to see me.”

“What?” Swiftnick gave him a blank look that turned into a look of dawning horror as he caught on. “Now you wait a minute....”

“Stop flapping, my dear. I’m hardly going to molest you when I know your guardian is hovering right behind me.” The playwright chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at a glowering Turpin before he stepped back to look Swiftnick up and down as he inspected the costume. “There, you’ll do for a rehearsal at least.” He paused frowning as he considered Swiftnick’s unruly blond curls.  “Unless....did you want him to wear a wig, Dick?”

“No wig...” Dick said firmly.

“A bonnet then?” Gideon suggested, glancing round and flipping open a trunk. “I have this lovely little straw ensemble with the pink silk roses.....”

“No,” Swiftnick snarled. “I am not wearing that thing. The ruddy dress is bad enough....Let’s get this over with...” He wriggled past Gideon, hitching up his skirts to scramble down the steps to the ground.

“Is he wearing boots?” Dick asked in astonishment as a darkly muttering Swiftnick stomped off towards the stage.

“And breeches,” Gideon sighed. “I couldn’t persuade him to take them off.....” Catching the dangerous look Turpin threw him at the comment, he rushed on. “He said it would be too draughty without them!”

“Draughty?” Dick echoed incredulously. It was a lovely warm day and he could hardly imagine Swiftnick being cold dressed in several layers of silk as he was.

“Perhaps we should go after him,” Gideon cooed. “Unless you want to be alone with me?”

“Oh shut up....” Dick growled, hastily following his accomplice out of the wagon. Shaking his head in amusement, Gideon climbed out of the caravan and followed the highwaymen towards the stage.

Swiftnick was already on the stage, fighting with his petticoats and hitching them up from his ankles. “Don’t hitch them up like that,” Dick scolded sharply. “You’re supposed to be a lady, not some hoyden.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Swiftnick demanded. “I’ll trip over the blasted things if I don’t....”

  “Hold them up at the front daintily,” Dick answered. “Hitching them up at the sides is what trollops do to display the wares...”

“Daintily...bah....” Swiftnick grumbled, stomping across the stage with all the finesse of a drunken stable hand.

Dick sighed and ran one hand down his face. “Can’t you at least pretend to be lady like?” he asked wistfully. “Girls don’t walk like that!”

Swiftnick stared at him for a long moment, then a calculating look crossed his face and he started back towards his partner, hips swinging in an artfully exaggerated sashay. “Like this you mean?”

Turpin’s jaw dropped. “Since when do you know any girls who walk like that?” he demanded in shock..

Swiftnick fluttered his eyelashes coyly at him. “I don’t, but you do....” he answered, only ruining his display when he tripped over the edge of his skirt and had to flail wildly to catch his balance.

“Unless you want him to get jumped by entirely the wrong type, I shouldn’t let him walk like that,” Gideon said quietly while Dick was still recovering.

“You have a point,” Turpin said weakly. “And don’t mince either!” he yelped as Swiftnick sorted out his skirts and started towards him again.

“Well, make your mind up,” Swiftnick retorted.

“Look, don’t stomp that’s all....” Turpin told him in frustration. “In fact, stand still....”

“But it says here I'm supposed to stomp up and down....” Swiftnick waved the crumpled play sheet he was holding.

“Pace, lad, pace,” Gideon corrected.

“Never mind, I’ll pace, you stand still,” Dick said hastily, having spotted Constantine arriving. He had brought Hardwick with him as well, which Dick hadn’t anticipated.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gideon assured him when the highwayman muttered under his breath about it. “He thinks he can sneak one past us, but since this isn't the play we’re doing....”

Dick glanced at him. “And while he’s here, he’s not watching Mariska and the others rehearsing the real play,” he agreed as he acknowledged Constantine’s presence with a polite wave of one hand. “All right, let’s start. Ready, Nick?”

Swiftnick gave him a dubious look. “I suppose....”

“You suppose?” Dick exclaimed. “All you’ve got to do is read your ruddy lines....”

“That’s not what it says here,” Swiftnick grumbled, jabbing at his play sheet.

Frowning, Dick plucked it out of his hand. “Kissing? I never mentioned kissing....” he exclaimed as he read, shooting a startled glare at Gideon.

The playwright shrugged innocently. “Romance always brings the audiences in....”

“So does murder,” Dick snarled.

“I'm not kissing you,” Swiftnick announced firmly and loudly. “You've got stubble. I'm not kissing anyone with stubble....”

Turpin gave him a murderous look. “You’re not my type anyway,” he retorted, shoving the play sheet back in his hand. “Read your lines....You start...”

Swiftnick nodded and pressed the back of one hand to his forehead. “Oh, you cad, sir! I am undone!” he exclaimed.

“You’re ruddy melodramatic is what you are,” Dick growled, fighting the urge to hit his partner.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t hit a lady, would you, sir?” Swiftnick asked, reading his mind and fluttering his eyelashes at him again.

“Behave yourself, Nick,” Gideon scolded hastily, then rushed on. “Now, this is the scene where Turpin has taken his new er acquisition back to his hideout. But instead of the seduction he has planned, he is intrigued by her....”

“Not if she’s anything like you I wouldn’t be,” Dick muttered to Swiftnick.

“Well, I'm not supposed to be alluring, am I?” Swiftnick shot back. “She don’t want to be seduced, she wants you to help her plan a robbery....”

“Dick, you begin....” Gideon interrupted. “From ‘I am undone’”

Turpin snorted, but dug his play sheet out of his waistcoat and glanced at his lines. “’Ere, don’t you go keeling over on me,” he read aloud.

“I had not intended to, sir. I merely demonstrate my talents....”

“I've seen them...” Turpin said with a leer, making a groping gesture at Swiftnick’s bodice. “Very fetching they are too....”

Swiftnick smacked the back of his hand.  “Hands off,” he snapped. “For I am an actress....”

“An actress?” Dick echoed obediently. “So what? I'm a highwayman...”

“And I know it, sir,” Swiftnick responded, frowning at his lines. “I also have a plan, a scheme, a cunning device....”

“It doesn’t say that....” Dick argued, peering at Swiftnick’s sheet.

“Yes, it does...look....it says to say all three....” Swiftnick jabbed a finger at it.

“I haven’t decided which one is best yet,” Gideon said hastily. “Read on....”

Turpin sighed, sliding a look towards the audience. Constantine and Hardwick had made themselves comfortable. Hardwick was looking bored, Constantine faintly concerned. “Which plan is this then?” he asked.

“Um...oh yes....” Swiftnick had lost his place. “A robbery...”

“I'm good at those,” Dick said cheerfully.

“Of a certain nobleman who has er.....what’s that say?”

Dick studied the handwritten page. “Er...dishevelled?” he guessed.

“Dishonoured!” Gideon barked indignantly.

“Are you sure? Dick frowned.

“I wrote it! Of course I'm sure!”

“....nobleman who has dishonoured me,” Swiftnick read on. “Revenge is sweet. For as he took my star, I shall take his!” The youth frowned, casting a dubious look over at Gideon. “I'm not sure I should be saying something like that....”

“You’re a boy playing a girl,” Gideon reminded him.

“What’s that got to do with it? Doesn’t seem right.....It’s not polite...”

“There are worse ways to say it,” Dick observed dryly.

“Keep going....” Gideon urged desperately.

“But I'm a boy playing a girl, who’s going to be a girl pretending to be a boy!” Swiftnick yelped. “I’m getting confused...”

“Well, we haven’t got to that bit yet,” Dick reminded him, delighted that Swiftnick had remembered his instructions to complain. Cornelius had noticed too and was starting to look vaguely worried. “Tab will be doing this later.” He waved his play sheet again. “Now, my girl, what star is this?”

“Oh er....” Swiftnick turned back to his lines, a flicker of relief crossing his face as he realised it was the brooch Turpin was referring too. “A fabulous heirloom, a brooch of rubies and diamonds....”

Dick hid a grin; Cornelius was definitely starting to twitch. “And what is this plan of yours?”

“Why, that we shall rob this nobleman together. I shall ride with you disguised as a boy....We shall pretend to be Turpin and Swiftnick and together rob the rogue....”

Cornelius went white, sliding a horrified look at an oblivious Hardwick who was listening with only the vaguest of interest beside him.

Gotcha, Dick thought in delight. Keeping in character, he took a quick step in close and wrapped one hand loosely around Swiftnick’s neck. “You have such a lovely neck...don’t you dare!” He broke off for a second, warned by the instinctive twitch of Swiftnick’s knee.

“Sorry,” Swiftnick mumbled, chagrined. “You startled me....”

Turpin snorted. “Fine excuse that is. As if I’d molest you...”

“Gideon unnerved me....”

“Understandable...Where was I? Oh yes....” Dick released his partner to check his lines. “You have such a lovely neck, such a pity to stretch it.”

“Stretch it, sir?”

“By hanging, lad, er, girl. By hanging....For that is how highwaymen are oft rewarded....”

“There is a greater treasure in wait to reward you beyond the star.....” Swiftnick read in a monotone. “Er.....is that supposed to mean something?”

Dick caught the look on Gideon’s face and resisted the temptation to laugh. Swiftnick hadn’t quite figured out the intricacies of innuendos yet.

“Revenge,” Gideon managed.

“Revenge for what?” Swiftnick puzzled.

“Never mind, keep going....” Gideon urged, shooting a glare at Turpin.

Turpin grinned, keeping one eye on Constantine. Hardwick was blatently bored, but a pale faced Cornelius was clearly struggling to make him stay and listen.

Swiftnick shook his head in bafflement. “It’s your line....”

“Hmmh, oh yes....” Dick focused again hastily. “You tempt me, my sweet one. But who is this nobleman you would have me rob to earn your gratitude?”

“I cannot tell you that. For how do I know you would not abandon me? I am but a simple girl....” Swiftnick broke off with a snort of laughter. “Yeah, right, she’s already been rolling around in the hay with this nobleman and now she’s conniving with Turpin....”

“Keep your secret then. But you’ll not convince me without a name. And if we rob this nobleman, then what?” Turpin interrupted hastily. “The dragoons will come after us. You may be disguised as a boy and will escape, but what of me?”

“We will hide the star where it will not be found....I know the very place. The nobleman attends a ball to which he will wear the brooch.  We shall rob him on his return...If the dragoons come, we shall hide it....”

“And will you tell me where this hiding place, shall be?”

 “You must trust me on that....”

“It seems this trust goes but one way...” Dick retorted. “And why should I trust you?”

Swiftnick gave him a cool look. “This is the bit I'm not doing,” he said flatly. “And I'm not going off in the bushes with you either....Though what they’d be doing in a hideout I don’t know. Seems stupid to me....”

“It’s a stage direction. A metaphor,” Gideon said faintly.

“What’s that then? Some kind of bed?” Swiftnick demanded suspiciously.

“I believe the bushes are a metaphor for a roll in the hay,” Turpin told him dryly.

Swiftnick open his mouth to retort then blushed as he caught on. “Ohhh......”

“Yes, ohhh.....” Dick mocked. “And you knew it had something to do with a bed too, didn’t you?”

Swiftnick gave him a sheepish grin. “May-be....I’m not that daft...”

Dick winked at him and turned towards their scanty audience. “So, gentlemen, what do you think of it so far? It’s a little rough around the edges.....”

“Rough?” Gideon choked indignantly.

“Imperfectly polished then,” Dick told him, cheerfully, turning back Hardwick. “But it has promise....”

Hardwick sniffed. “A little far fetched perhaps. A girl pretending to be a highwayman? As if anyone would be fooled by such a story....”

“I believe my Lord Chiswick was fooled by such a ploy,” Dick commented, enjoying a fidgeting Constantine’s increasing discomfiture.

“Lord Chiswick?” Cornelius gasped weakly.

“Apparently, whoever robbed him of the Chiswick Star pretended to be Turpin and Swiftnick. I’ve heard rumours that the one pretending to be Swiftnick was actually a girl in disguise,” Dick told them conversationally. “The real Turpin is understandably annoyed and is looking for them.”

“I never listen to gossip. And the activities of such ruffians as highwaymen are hardly my concern,” Hardwick retorted loftily. “What does concern me is this belittling of my good friend Lord Chiswick’s name.”

“Oh, I assure you, Lord Chiswick will not be mentioned,” Dick told him earnestly, boggling at the idea of Hardwick being Chiswick’s good friend.  He somehow doubted that Chiswick would even remember the actor’s name. “And as you say, the whole idea is a little far fetched. A few minor changes perhaps, Gideon?”

Gideon was still fuming from having his precious prose described as rough around the edges, but he rallied to the call even as he gave Turpin a venomous look. “Perhaps the girl can meet up with an actor who she persuades to join her in the robbery,” he suggested sarcastically. “When they are pursued, they panic and hide the stolen property in one of the troupe’s wagons. But they are unable to retrieve it immediately for some reason....”

“And then the girl joins the troupe to find it!” Swiftnick put in with a burst of enthusiasm.

Dick winced. He had coached Gideon carefully in his lines and hadn't expected Swiftnick to butt in. He should have known better. Constantine however was looking ready to keel over in terror, while Hardwick looked bored.

“It’s all nonsense. No one will believe such a farrago of nonsense as a tragedy.  Where are the sword fights? The drama? Does the girl get killed? The highwayman actor?” Hardwick demanded, jabbing an elbow into Constantine’s side. “What’s the matter with you? You’re not going to keel over are you?”

“It’s a little warm....” Cornelius whispered, tugging at his stock.

“You could have a big fight scene,” Swiftnick suggested. “The real Turpin and the actor Turpin fight it out....Ooh, and Swiftnick get the girl because she’s really been in love with him the whole time!” he added triumphantly.

“Why?” Dick asked in bewilderment.

“Er.....because Gideon says every play needs romance and lots of fights?”

“Why would she be in love with Swiftnick and not Turpin?” Dick demanded.

“Because she's only a girl and Turpin is....er, everyone knows.....” Swiftnick floundered to a halt.

“Yes?” Turpin growled forbiddingly.

Swiftnick grimaced, knowing that a sweet smile wasn't going to dig him out of this one.

“I think I’ll turn it into a comedy,” Gideon said weakly, looking round for somewhere to sit down with his ink and paper.

“H’how, I m’mean,” Constantine swallowed hard. “How does it end?”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Dick responded crisply, distracted from Swiftnick for the moment.  “Obviously, the brooch can’t be sold....”

“No?” Constantine quavered.

“Far too easily recognised,” Dick told him solemnly. “Bit pointless taking it really. And he’s annoyed Turpin who’s likely to come after him for using his name. He’d better have a good excuse for making such a mess of things. Then there’s the girl, lying to everyone....”

Constantine shot a sideways look at Hardwick. “Might I make a suggestion?” he murmured diffidently. Hardwick grunted and waved a hand.  “Perhaps, the girl had run away from her father who refuses to let her marry the man she loves. And they took the brooch to get the money so they could marry....”

 Dick stared at him. “Run away from her father?” he echoed.

Hardwick grunted again. “Damn stupid idea if you ask me...”

Dick expected Swiftnick to chip in, but this partner was silent and it was Gideon who spoke up. “Then it must be a romantic comedy. And Turpin must somehow assist the lovers to a happy ending....”

Turpin shot a glare at him. “Wasn’t Turpin supposed to end up with the girl?” he reminded him pointedly.

“That would be in the one you didn’t want to me to write,” Gideon retorted equally pointedly.

“I'm rapidly going off the idea of this one as well,” Dick assured him icily.

“It’s all stuff and nonsense anyway,” Hardwick said loudly. “Come Cornelius, we have much to do....” As the actor stalked off with a worried Constantine in tow, they could hear him muttering that no one would come to watch such a mishmash and their own play was much better.

“Oh wonderful, now he’s going to tell everyone I write rubbish plays,” Gideon groaned.

“And everyone will come to see it anyway. They always do. And it’s not as if we’re going to perform this one anyway,” Dick soothed, frowning around him. “Where’d Swiftnick go?”

“To change I assume,” Gideon answered absently, frowning at the sheet of paper he was clutching that he had been scribbling on.

Turpin eyed him for a moment, then sighed heavily. Gideon was unlikely to pay any attention to him while he was in the throes of composition. The best thing he could do now was go and find Tabitha and find out who she really was. “I’ll see you later then, Gideon,” he said casually as he hopped down from the stage and Gideon waved a hand in vague acknowledgement. Dick smiled ruefully as he strode briskly back towards the caravans. His plan had gone well enough, he thought. Constantine was definitely alarmed and a bit more stirring, should put the wind right up him. Revenge was indeed sweet; it’d teach him a lesson to hide stolen property on Mariska!

“Dick!” Mariska’s cry was practically a wail of alarm as she flung herself at him out of nowhere and grabbed his arm.

“What the...?!” Dick reeled back, catching his balance and her with an arm around her slender waist. “What’s the matter?”

“Chiswick’s here, coming this way,” Mariska blurted in panic, tugging at him frantically. “He can’t see you here! He’ll know we hid you! You have to hide....”

Forgetting about the enjoyable sensation of holding her close, Turpin let her tug him along with her. “What’s he coming here for?” he wondered uneasily.

“I don’t know. Obadiah said he was looking for someone to perform a play for him. He did it before; us and Hardwick’s lot. I think he’s suspicious!” Mariska exclaimed. “He knows we were there, if he realises it was us he met when he was chasing you....Where’s Swiftnick?”

“Gone to change. Look, love, calm down....”

“He’s not at the caravans,” Mariska interrupted in alarm. “Oh, what if Chiswick sees him?”

“He’s still in costume. He’ll never recognise him,” Dick soothed her, even as his own nerves itched with alarm.

“And what if he wants to search the caravans!”

“He’s got no reason to. And he won't find the star even if he does,” Turpin told her. “But I do need to hide.” A rueful grin crossed his face. “And find Swiftnick....What is it they say about hiding in plain sight?”

                                                            * * *

Swiftnick had thought slipping away while Turpin was distracted and then following Hardwick and Constantine when they left might reveal something useful. But all Hardwick did was belittle Gideon’s playwriting and scoff at the acting while Constantine mumbled the occasional morose grunt of agreement.

Only when they disappeared into a beer tent and he tripped over the edge of his skirt did Swiftnick skid to a halt in horror, realising that he was still wearing his costume and that he was getting some very funny looks. Swearing under his breath, he turned around and hurried back the way he had come, finally finding a spot where he could slip behind the stalls and attempt to wriggle out of the dress. That was when he realised how impossible it was to get the laces undone without assistance. He was still wrestling with the laces and about to sneak back out of hiding again and make a dash back for the caravans when a voice behind him made him freeze in his tracks.

“My dear girl, do let me help you with those,” a slightly slurred male voice said from behind him.

Dismayed, Swiftnick whipped around, putting his back to the nearest tent and starting at the slender gentleman swaying gently behind him. He was dressed in pink and plum velvet with an extravagantly feathered hat this time, but Swiftnick still recognised him as the pink powderpuff who had been one of Chiswick’s cronies from the night of the chase. From the miasma of wine fumes floating around him, he was every bit as drunk too. “I can manage,” Swiftnick squeaked, sidling away from him.

Powderpuff teetered closer, peering at him and obviously too drunk to focus clearly. “Now, now, my sweet, you really mustn’t rush off,” he slurred, attempting to catch Swiftnick as he ducked under his arm.

“I really must....” Swiftnick assured him as Powderpuff blocked his way by lurching backwards.

“No need. I shall not harm you...I am looking for my brother.”

“Well, he’s not here....” Swiftnick pointed out.

“Oh, you silly little minx, you don’t even know who my brother is! He’s Lord Chiswick!”

“Really. Got to go....” Swiftnick ducked backwards as Powderpuff snatched at him.

“Saucy! You must pay a forfeit,” Powderpuff giggled at him, clapping his hands. “Yes, yes, you shall pay a forfeit for being a naughty girl! A kiss!”

“I don’t think so....” Swiftnick retorted, dodging sideways then nipping smartly back the other way.

More by accident than design, Powderpuff wobbled the wrong way and managed to catch Swiftnick with an arm sliding around his waist and pulling the youth up close. “I have you now, my darling. A kiss.....I say, muscular little thing, aren’t yoooo-ou........” Powderpuff’s burbling’s turned into a yodel as Swiftnick kneed him where it hurts and tore himself free; literally as he left a strip of lace in Powderpuff’s fingers.

Not waiting to see how much damage he had done, Swiftnick sprinted off as fast as his tangled skirts would let him. Powderpuff however came in wobbling pursuit, too drunk to feel very much.

Tripping and scrambling, Swiftnick lurched back through the tents and stalls, dodging and ducking through the crowds as Powderpuff pursued him with surprising speed. “Oh coo-eee!” he yodelled periodically. “Coo-eee! Le purr, my darling, le purr!”

“I’ll give you ruddy darling,” Swiftnick panted as he rounded the first of the caravans and slammed straight into a woman in a dark blue dress. “Oops sorry....” he began automatically before he realised that instead of knocking her flying, she had caught him. Astounded he peered under the huge ruffles of lace edging her bonnet and all but hiding her face “Dick?!” he blurted in astonishment as a very unladylike hand pushed the bonnet back to show Turpin’s exasperated face. “What are you ...?!”

“About to come looking for you. Chiswick’s here,” Dick snapped. “But what’s your rush?”

Recalling his pursuer, Swiftnick looked round in time to see Powderpuff totter round the corner after him. “Him!” he yelped, ducking behind Turpin for protection.

“Him?” Dick said in astonishment as Powderpuff tripped towards them.  “You could take him with one hand tied behind your back!”

“Not in a skirt I can’t,” Swiftnick protested, shrinking even further behind Turpin. “He wanted to kiss me!”

“Did he now,” Dick said darkly, glowering at Powderpuff as he minced towards them.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Powderpuff giggled, totally ignoring Dick as he focused on Swiftnick. “Oh, there you are, you naughty little minx. Come and give me a kiss now....” Holding his hands out and puckering up his lips, Powderpuff attempted to circle round Dick to get Swiftnick. Swiftnick retreated and the two of them circled with the highwayman revolving between them.

“Oh for.....” Dick muttered and smacked Powderpuff smartly in the chest with his fan. “Enough, sir! Leave the girl alone!”

Powderpuff paused, blinking at Dick as he hadn’t noticed him before. “Oh go away....” he ordered. “Come here, you saucy little creature....”

“I'm warning you!” Turpin snapped.

“Oh, I'm so scared,” Powderpuff mocked, attempting to dodge round him. Swiftnick ducked the other way.

“I shall hit you with my fan!” Dick sniffed, lifting the lacy thing threateningly. 

“By all means!” Powderpuff challenged, lifting his chin and closing his eyes.

Turpin’s eyes narrowed. “You asked for it,” he snapped, handing his fan to Swiftnick as he hauled off and smacked Powderpuff in the jaw with considerable force. Powderpuff didn’t even open his eyes but dropped like a fallen log.

“Nice one....” Swiftnick said admiringly even as Dick swore and shook his fist in pain.

“Come on you,” Turpin snapped, grabbing his partner by the wrist and yanking him after him. “We’ve got to hide until Chiswick’s gone.”

“But I want to change!” Swiftnick wailed.

Wearing a dowdy frock had put Dick in a bad mood and he was not inclined to be understanding. “You’ll have to wait. We’d have had time to if you hadn't decided to start flirting....”

“I wasn’t flirting! I was too busy running!”

“You were chaste, so he chased you....”

“Dick! It wasn’t my fault....He cornered me!”

“That’s what they all say....”

                                                            * * *

Rather than wander around the fair or the village and risk being seen, Dick headed for the wood where he reluctantly helped Swiftnick out of his laced bodice and skirts; mainly because Swiftnick refused to return the favour if he didn’t. After that, they found a sunny clearing near the stream and settled down to relax. Dick frankly dozed while Swiftnick pulled his boots off and paddled, attempting to tickle trout and thoroughly enjoy failing.

It was mid afternoon when Dick finally decided it would be safe to return and the two of them sneaked in around the back of the caravans, carrying their costumes. Swiftnick was about to march off towards their wagon when Dick grabbed his arm and yanked him back out of sight. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he hissed in exasperation. “Look before you leap....”

“But....”

“Listen!” Turpin dragged him closer, letting him peek around the edge of the caravan as they listened to the conversation going on, on the other side.

Chastened but petulant, Swiftnick listened; his eyes rounding in dismay as he recognised Powderpuff’s tones. “That’s him....”he blurted. “And he’s Chiswick’s brother...”

“You didn't say he was Chiswick’s brother before....” Dick hissed at him.

“You didn’t ask me!”

Dick felt like hitting him, but since there was a good chance of Swiftnick hitting him back, he resisted the urge and did his best to listen to the conversation instead. If the powderpuff had guessed who they were....

“I tell you, sir, she was right here. A fetching young creature. And then this terrible harridan hit me! Hit me! The Honourable Timothy Chiswick!”

“Well,” Georgiou responded carefully. “We don't have any young girls like you’ve described. Except for Tab who’s been here rehearsing with us all the time.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve seen her. But I'm sure it wasn't her....But the harridan hit me! She had the temerity to knock me down! With her fan! She felled me! Look at this! Mud all over my best velvet! I ask you, is that any way for a decent woman to behave?”

“Well, pursuing young girls doesn’t seem very gentlemanly,” Georgiou said dubiously. “And if the er harridan did hit you, I'm sure she was only protecting the girl.”

“T’was uncalled for!”

“Are you sure?” Georgiou pressed.

The Honourable Timothy twitched. “Yes, well, she did seem a shy little thing...”

“Perhaps you should say no more about it....”

“But she hit me....!”

“Even so,” Georgiou murmured. “I'm not sure I would want it bandied about that I was knocked down by a mere woman....with a fan....I’m sure you wouldn’t want say Lord Chiswick to hear about it.”

Powderpuff paused, mouth open on his indignant response, as it suddenly struck him how humiliating this might be. “Goodness me, no,” he exclaimed, horrified at the idea. “You’re quite right. Obviously protecting the girl. Foolish of me. Quite right of her. Girl was perfectly respectable. Should have realised it right off. Bit tipsy, you know how it is....I say. I must go....Here, thank you for your help....Not another word, hmmh?”

“Indeed, not another word....” Georgiou assured him blandly, watching him go. As soon as he was out of sight, Dick and Swiftnick emerged.  “I was wondering where you two had got to,” he said cheerfully. “Did you hear all that?”

“Every word,” Dick admitted. “How long’s he been here?”

“A few minutes....”

“I didn’t think I hit him that hard....”

“I doubt if you did. I think he’s been sleeping it off from the amount of wine on him...And he gave me a guinea to keep quiet!” Georgiou displayed the coin with a grin.

“Handsome of him....” Dick said thoughtfully.

“The only thing that is,” Swiftnick sniffed.

“It’s your own fault for flirting with him...” Dick retorted.

“I wasn’t! And at least he didn’t call me a harridan.  And you only hit him because you were in a bad mood over your dress!”

“I was not!”

“You told me it wasn’t your colour!”

Turpin decided the only thing to do was loftily ignore him. “What happened with Chiswick?” he demanded of Georgiou.

“He had a look round, looked haughty and asked Mariska to do a play for him. He wanted a tableaux. Mariska told him to talk to Hardwick. But there’s to be a ball at the manor; a party with a select few guests he called it. Ruddy orgy more like.”

“Can we go?” Swiftnick asked hopefully, adding hastily. “Only to see the tableaux of course. It’ll be educational....”

“You don’t need that kind of education,” Dick told him flatly. “Go and give Gideon his dresses back.”

“Spoilsport,” Georgiou murmured under his breath as Swiftnick grabbed the costumes and stomped off in a sulk.

“He doesn’t need you encouraging him either,” Dick retorted.

Georgiou chuckled. “So how did your plan to trap Constantine go then? I couldn’t get anything out of Gideon, he keeps muttering about rewriting it....”

Dick frowned. “Well enough. Cornelius more or less admitted it. But he said one thing that baffled me. Is there any chance that Tab could be Hardwick’s daughter?”

“Hardwick’s daughter?” Georgiou echoed in astonishment.

Turpin nodded. “I could be wrong in assuming Tab helped him in the robbery and it’s some other girl, but I doubt it. Hardwick seems the lofty type to me. He’d think she was too good to marry a mere actor.  Probably wants her to marry someone like Chiswick.”

“Well, if she is, it’d be a good reason to run off that,” Georgiou snorted.

“Run off?”

“Well, if she’s taken with Constantine, she wouldn’t want Chiswick. Stands to reason she’d run off.”

“And spend her time going through your caravans looking for the star?” Dick said dryly.

Georgiou shrugged. “Love makes people do strange things,” he observed. “Take you for example.”

“Me? I'm certainly not in love. What did I do that’s strange?”

“There’s all kinds of love, Dick. And wearing a dress and hitting someone for flirting with your partner isn’t strange?” Georgiou asked sweetly.

“It was a disguise so Chiswick wouldn’t recognise me,” Dick snarled.

“Of course it was,” Georgiou grinned.

“You know blasted well it was! I could hardly go wafting about in a doublet and hose, could I?”

“Naturally not.”

“Don’t go there,” Dick warned.

Georgiou’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t dare,” he assured him. “But I wonder why you’re so keen on getting Constantine to admit he took the star. What’s the point?”

Turpin hesitated. “It’s the principle of the thing,” he said stiffly. “He got me and Swiftnick blamed for it, then he nearly dropped you in it by hiding it in your box. What if it had been found?”

“You want to make him squirm...”

“Yes,” Dick agreed with relish.

Georgiou’s grin had been replaced by a frown. “That’s what Mariska would call reprehensible of you....”

“Highwayman,” Dick shrugged. “Look, all I want is Chiswick to lose interest in me and Swiftnick.”

“So give the brooch back to him....There’s supposed to be a reward...”

“Really?” Dick brightened for a moment, then caught himself. “No, that’s no good to me. He’ll still think I took it. Same goes for Constantine returning it. And you can’t have anything to do with it or he’ll think you’re involved too.” Turpin sighed, shaking his head. “You know what? I need a drink.”

“Dinner at the pub?”

“Good idea. I can probably distract Swiftnick from thinking about orgies with a pudding...”

                                                            * * *

Muttering under his breath, Swiftnick slammed into Gideon’s caravan where the costumers were kept and hurled the dresses down in an untidy heap on the floor. “He’s pushing me around again,” he complained to the air in general. “And it wasn’t my fault!” Thoroughly annoyed, the young highwayman sat down on one of the trunks and glared at the heap of fabric on the floor. It all seemed to unfair. He’d thought being an actor would be fun, but he never seemed to get anything interesting to do. In fact, there didn’t seem all that much difference between being an actor and a highwayman. Dick still seemed to find chores for him to do and keep him away from anything interesting. Why, he had a good mind to sneak off and watch the tableaux anyway. He was sure he could find a disguise every bit as good as one of Turpin’s. Maybe if he had a rummage through the trunks?

“Ah, there you are! I thought I saw you come in here,” Gideon’s cheerful voice caught him as he lifted the lid of the trunk. Startled, he dropped it, nearly catching his fingers in the gap. “Tsk, anyone would think you were up to something....” the playwright teased.

“Who? Me? Fine chance that’d be! I was putting these away....” Swiftnick grumbled as he hastily grabbed up the dresses. Before he could cram them into the trunk, Gideon snatched them out of his hands.

“They don’t go in there! You’ll crease them to bits! They have to be hung or folded carefully.....” Gideon paused, seeing Swiftnick’s mutinous look. “So, what’s ruffled you feathers, my fine young buck?” he asked kindly, as he straightened the dresses over his arm.

“Nothing...” Swiftnick mumbled, sitting back down on the trunk. “Everything....”

“Ah....” Gideon nodded wisely and laid the dresses carefully over a convenient trunk. “The frustrations of being young, hmmh?”

“Dick doesn’t think I'm safe to let loose on my own!”

Gideon resisted the impulse to annoy the stripling even more by saying ‘He’s probably right.’ Because he was a highwayman didn’t make Swiftnick any different from any other lad of his age. Caught between being too young and not quite old enough was a frustrating time for any stripling. At his age, reach exceeded his grasp. An for Swiftnick a mistake could mean a short drop and a sharp stop for him and Turpin. “Cider?” the playwright said mildly, reaching for the jug he kept tucked securely between the trunks and retrieving the mugs from where he had left them.

“It wasn’t my fault that pink nitwit came after me. He was too drunk to recognise me as me even if I’d been dressed as me!” Swiftnick complained as he accepted the tankard Gideon filled and handed to him. He took a sip, nodding in appreciation at the sweet cider.

“I dare say Dick overreacted a little,” Gideon said kindly.

“Bah! He always overreacts!”

“That’s probably because he feels responsible for you....”

Swiftnick opened his mouth to make a hot response to that, then closed it again with a snap. “That’s not my fault. I can look after myself....” he grumbled after a moment.

“And as soon as you were in trouble, what did you do? Run straight to Turpin?”

Swiftnick flushed.  “He was there, I ran into him is all. I’d have lost the twit on my own...”

“And Dick happened to be out looking for you?” Gideon said mildly as he seated himself on a trunk, leaned against the wall behind it and propped his feet up on the trunk that Swiftnick was sitting on. “You know, Swiftnick, you’re a lucky lad, a very lucky lad. Turpin doesn't strike me as the kind to look out for anyone except himself mostly. But he looks out for you, even though he doesn’t have to.” The playwright chuckled, his blue twinkling. “Reminds me of Georgiou and Raphael. Always digging at each other. But if you were to hurt one of them....”

Swiftnick ducked his head, studying his reflection in his cider. “I know he’s only doing what he thinks best. But....” he sighed, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

“Every now and then it would be nice if he wasn’t so sure he was right all the time?” Gideon said mildly. “You have to have patience with the things that irritate you. I dare say Dick trusts you when it comes down to it. But I doubt if he’s got much experience coping with a young lad like you. So, if he goes over the top a bit, it’s only because he means well.” He laughed softly as Swiftnick rolled his eyes. “And you’ve heard that before, haven’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Swiftnick admitted ruefully, taking another mouthful of his cider. “I wish he’d tell me what he’s up to is all. He always keeps his plans secret until he’s ready to tell me. I think he does it on purpose. He knows it drives me up the wall....”

“You think he’s up to something?” Gideon said, eyeing him curiously. He suspected that Swiftnick knew Turpin better than anyone, even Dick himself, thought he did. If anyone knew if the highwayman was up to something, his partner would.

“This whole play thing for a start. I mean, so what if Constantine took it and maybe Tab helped him. We’ve got it now. I don’t see why we have to return it.”

“Didn’t Dick say you couldn’t sell it?”

Swiftnick shrugged. “So we break it up and sell the pieces. Chiswick’s a bully. I don’t see why he should get it back.”

“Not even for the reward?”

“There’s a reward?” Swiftnick chirped avariciously, then shook his head. “No, I know what Dick would say; Chiswick would still blame us for taking it and we’d never the reward anyway. I don’t see it matters whether he blames us or not.”

“It’s a matter of pride and principle,” Gideon told him. “He didn’t take it, so he doesn’t see why he should get blamed for it.”

Swiftnick frowned thoughtfully.  “He does get a bit ratty when people pretend to be him,” he mused. “And I know he doesn’t want Chiswick thinking Mariska’s involved.”

“There you are then. That’s why he’s bad tempered.”

Swiftnick flashed a sudden impulsive grin at him. “Nah, Dick’s always bad tempered....You want to see him when he’s really annoyed....”

                                                            * * *

Sitting around the table in the pub over steak and ale pies and vegetables, Dick was listening to Georgiou and Raphael reading out extracts of Gideon’s new play. The latest scene concerned a couple of coach drivers who were about to be robbed by Turpin; the comedy relief as Gideon described them.

“Nah, Turnip’s lost his edge if you ask me...” Georgiou was reading in a thick yokel accent.

“Aye, aye, you be right there,” Raphael drawled. “That there Turnip’s not clever enough to be a robbing his lordship of the star. That young sidekick of his though, now there’s s whip smart young lad....It would’ve been his plan....”

Dick turned his head to glower at Swiftnick and Gideon as they sat at the end of the table. Swiftnick gave him his best bright eyed light shining through from the back of his head look. Gideon merely smirked. “Did you spot the name change?” he asked sweetly.

“What name change...?” Dick rumbled, bristling.

“From Turpin, to Turnip. Subtle I thought.....”

Dick twitched, scowling at his partner. “Did you have something to do with this?”

“Who, sir? Me, sir?” Swiftnick asked with eyed innocence.

“Yes, sir. You sir,” Dick retorted with a grudging smile.

“Oh, no, sir,” Swiftnick assured him earnestly, the sparkle in his eyes belying his words.

“Rick Turnip and Sniffwick,” Gideon announced, making Swiftnick choke on his ale.

Dick chuckled, realising that Swiftnick certainly hadn't known all of Gideon’s little joke.  “Named after his fascination with candles perhaps?”

“That might make for an amusing scene,” Gideon said brightly, scribbling it down at Swiftnick stared at him in dismay.

“Everyone will think I'm weird!” he protested.

“They’ll think Sniffwick is weird,” Dick corrected. “Besides, no one believes what they see in a play.”

“They don’t?” Swiftnick gave him a round eyed look.

“Well, maybe you would....” Dick teased as Swiftnick’s eyes narrowed. “But no one’s going to see this one, are they, Gideon?”

“Hmmh? Oh, no no, of course not,” Gideon said hastily. “This is merely to amuse myself with. An exercise you might say....”

Dick eyed him suspiciously, but before he could say anything, Mariska touched his shoulder and made him budge up so she could sit beside him. She had been sitting with Tabitha, Tobias and Obadiah who had joined them for once. “I've been talking to Cyril,” she announced.

Georgiou raised an eyebrow. “Without throwing things at him? I'm amazed....”

“Oh hush! Dick wanted me to find out something for him,” Mariska retorted.

“I didn’t expect you to flat out ask them!” Dick exclaimed.

“Oh, as if I’d be so stupid!” Mariska scolded, slapping his arm. “Besides, if Tabitha really has run away from Hardwick, she wouldn’t want him to know where she is, would she?”

“What’s Tab got to do with it?” Raphael asked curiously.

“Dick thinks she's Hardwick’s daughter,” Georgiou told him.

“Where’d he come up with a ludicrous idea like that from?!” Raphael laughed.

Turpin gave him a frosty look, but it was Mariska who answered. “It’s not ludicrous. I think he’s right and she is Hardwick’s daughter. Cyril wouldn’t come right out and say it, but there’s gossip. George says that last time they were here there was a girl with them who looked a lot like Tab. But he never actually met her as such so he can’t be sure it’s the same girl.”

“Who’s Cyril anyway?” Swiftnick wondered.

“He used to be one of our players until Hardwick lured him away. He actually admitted one of the reasons he joined him was because there were a couple of very pretty girls in their troupe at the time.” Mariska pouted slightly. “We really do need to get a couple of women to join us. I can’t do all the women’s roles.”

Georgiou leaned across the table and caught up her hand. “I'm sure we will. It’s only because Hardwick pretends to be so glamorous that they all go t him. What we need to do is find new territory. Keep out of his way for a while....”

Mariska frowned. “We were here first. I'm not running away from him.”

“It’s more a sort of strategic withdrawal,” Gideon said quickly.

“What the army used to call an advance towards the rear,” Dick put in.

Mariska glanced at him in surprise and then laughed. “That’s a retreat!”

“The army never says retreat,” Dick told her solemnly. “But, if things go right, I dare say Hardwick can be persuaded to stay out of your way.”

“Oh?” Mariska murmured curiously, leaning towards him.

Dick slid his arm around her, enjoying the feel of her leaning into his side. He kissed her cheek affectionately. “If Tabitha belongs to him, he isn't going to want everyone knowing that she’s turned into a highwayman,” he murmured. “I think that gives you a bit of bargaining power...”

Mariska frowned. “That seems a little callous,” she said slowly.

“I think lying to you was callous,” Dick told her.

“So what are we going to do?” Swiftnick interrupted, getting bored with their cooing. “You said we can’t keep the you know what. But what else can we do with it?”

“What we have to do now is return the er you know what to Chiswick.....” Dick answered.

“How?” Swiftnick demanded impatiently. “We could rob him and hand it back I suppose.”

 “We couldn’t. That’d convince him we took it in the first place,” Dick retorted.  “It’s a mater of principle....”

“You mean pride,” Swiftnick retorted acidly.

“That too,” Dick surprised him by agreeing however. “We have to make Constantine explain and give it back.”

“And find a way to stop Chiswick from hanging him,” Mariska added.

“We do?” Dick said in surprise.

“We do,” Mariska said firmly. “It’d be on your conscience if you didn't prevent Chiswick hanging him.”

“What makes you think I've got a conscience?” Dick grumbled in protest, adding to his grinning young partner. “And you can stop smirking as well...”

“Dick, if you didn’t you wouldn’t be here. And Nick certainly wouldn't be with you,” Mariska answered primly.  “I suggest I talk to Tabitha and tell her what’s going on. I think the only reason they took the you know what is because she and Cornelius needed money to be together. Now that you’ve taken it, that plan’s ruined. I dare say by now they’ve realised what a mistake they made and will be only too glad to put things right.”

“Or are willing to let me go on taking the blame,” Dick muttered.

“Oh, don’t be so cynical,” Mariska scolded. “I’ll talk to her when we get back later. I’m sure everything will be all right....”

                                                            * * *

“There she goes,” Dick muttered an hour or so later, watching as Tabitha slipped out of the pub door into the warm night air. He started to his feet immediately, but Mariska caught his arm and pulled him back to his seat beside her.

“There’s no rush”, she told him. “She’ll probably come back in a minute. Besides, she didn’t say she was ready to go back. And we don’t want to scare her.”

Turpin raised an eyebrow but settled back in his seat. In his opinion, Tabitha was far from the fragile, delicate flower that Mariska thought she was. The girl had a lover, was an accomplished flirt, had run away and had taken part in a robbery.  Somehow he doubted they were going to scare the wench.

As Mariska turned her attention back to Raphael – they seemed to be discussing something to do with the Lady’s Slipper again – Dick let his eyes wander over the noisy pub, idly wondering where Swiftnick had gotten to and considering ordering himself another ale.

The Royal George had attracted most of the visiting fair folk as well as the actors and there was much lively conversation, singing and laughter. The innkeeper was a popular man with his clientele, running a respectable establishment and allowing no brawling. But he was not averse to a bit of entertainment from his visitors. Tabitha and Tobias had been singing for the crowd earlier. Obadiah was off at the King Harry and Gideon has stayed behind to write.

From what Obadiah had said the King Harry on the other side of the village was a quieter more refined place that looked down on the fair folk and catered to the more standoffish villagers who considered themselves above mixing with the riffraff. Hardwick managed to fit in there with his airs and graces, managing to convince the snobs that he was a proper gentleman.  Dick, who ape the nobility with finesse, thought he sounded thoroughly boring.

Turpin stiffened slightly, spotting Swiftnick talking to a pretty young brunette over at the of the other tables. Tensing in his seat, he started to get up to go and retrieve his straying partner. This time it was Georgiou who pulled him back down with a chuckle. “Let him be, Dick, he’s not doing anything wrong. It’d look strange if he didn’t flirt a little...”

“It’s not the flirting I'm worried about,” Dick muttered.

“Relax,” Georgiou told him firmly. “She’s come with the fair. Neither of them are going to do anything with her father sitting there watching them.”

Dick shot a sharp look at the dark haired actor and followed his quick nod towards a burly man drinking ale at the next table over. He was obviously keeping a watchful eye on both the girl and Swiftnick, but he seemed to be more amused than wary.

“I know her father quite well,” Georgiou went on. “And she’s a sweet girl. What harm does it do? Let him off the reins for a bit.”

Dick surrendered. He knew he overreacted at times where Swiftnick was concerned. The lad was on his conscience and he had promised to look out for him. And it had been quite a while since he’d been inclined to talk too much.  Mariska stirred beside him, lightly touching his hand. “She hasn’t come back,” she said quietly. “I think we should go after her.”

“What happened to there’s no rush?” Dick wondered.

“She shouldn’t be wandering around on her own,” Mariska said primly. “We should catch her up and walk back with her. She knows she’s not supposed to go back alone.”

“You thought she’d slipped out to meet Constantine!” Dick realised.

“She still might have. And I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm to catch them together...She couldn’t deny it then, could she?”

“That’s very sneaky,” Dick observed dryly.

Raphael snorted. “Tell me about it,” he muttered. “If it’s not her hovering over me, it’s Georgiou....Anyone would think I can’t look after myself.”

“You can’t....junior....” Georgiou told him crisply.

“Don’t call me junior!”

Dick grinned as they fell to bickering amiably. Raphael’s complaint was the echo of Swiftnick’s oft voiced one about him. Mariska was smiling at them affectionately but got to her feet when Dick did. “I’ll meet you at the door. Let me speak to Swiftnick first....”

Mariska followed his glance with an amused smile. “Oh, don’t ruin his fun for him,” she protested.

“I won’t,” Dick assured her as he left the table and slipped through the crowd to bend over his partner’s shoulder.  Swiftnick looked up at him warily as Turpin leaned down to his ear. “Tab’s gone and Mariska want to talk to her, so we’re going back to the caravans.”

“You want me to come?” Swiftnick wondered, sounding far from thrilled by the idea.

Dick glanced across the table at the pretty brown eyed girl watching them, seeing the hint of a disappointed pout on her sweetly curved lower lip. “No need. Stay and enjoy yourself,” he told him, patting the youth’s shoulder. “Come back when the pub closes.”

“Thanks, Dick,” Swiftnick said gratefully, glad he wasn’t going to be embarrassingly hauled off.

“Keep him out trouble, love,” Dick told the girl, giving her a wink as she blushed. Straightening up, he nodded to the burly man watching him and grinned when her father lifted his tankard in acknowledgement to the highwayman. Satisfied that Swiftnick would come to no harm on his own, Dick made his way across the crowded floor to meet Mariska at the door. She was fending off the amorous advances of a drunken villager and Turpin sent him on his way with a fierce glower as he put his arm around her possessively.

“You’ll make him think you’re my lover,” Mariska giggled as he held the door for to slip out into the warm air.

“Such a pity that’d be,” Dick retorted, tucking her arm into his as they started down the cobbled street and back towards the fair and the caravans.

Mariska tossed her head, her dark curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. She wore dark green this evening, her bodice invitingly tightly laced over her white underdress showing off her trim waist and rounded curves. Dick knew her to be an earthy, sensual creature under her cool discreet manners and his mouth went dry with hunger at the remembered feel of her lithe body in his arms.

“Mariska....” he began huskily.

“No,” she replied firmly.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say...” Dick protested.

Looking up at him, Mariska laughed softly. “But I know what you were thinking. And we wouldn’t want to give Swiftnick the wrong idea, would we?”

“I think Swiftnick knows more than enough about me already. He wouldn’t be surprised. And you know Georgiou and Raphael wouldn’t say anything....”

“They wouldn’t dare!” Mariska laughed, looking up at him reflectively, her dark eyes glinting in the faint light as she looked him up and down and flicked her tongue lightly against her upper lip. “Maybe later, hmmh?” she suggested softly, nibbling at her lower lip pensively. “When we don’t have to worry about Chiswick?”

Dick felt a quick pulse of hunger run through him. “Is that a promise?”

“Perhaps...” she laughed teasingly again, hugging his arm.

The pulse became a throb. It had been a while.....Taking a deep breath, Dick forced his mind to other things, reminding himself that Mariska was far too good a friend to be taken advantage of. “So,” he said, then cleared his voice with a swallow. “So, what exactly are you going to say to Tabitha?”

                                                            * * *

“Nick?”

Swiftnick looked up in surprise as Tabitha leaned over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Uh, yeah? I thought you’d gone back to the caravans. Mariska was looking for you.”

“Was she? Oh dear....” Tabitha smiled at him innocently. “I was going to, but I didn’t want to walk back on my own. And the others are busy.”

Swiftnick could see that; Raphael and Tobias had joined in a dice game and while Georgiou hadn’t exactly joined in, he was watching the dice closely and would probably succumb before long.  His little brunette friend had reluctantly left with her father, not without casting several wistful looks his way as she went.

“So?” Tabitha prompted.

“Hmmh?” Swiftnick looked up at her again absently and then caught on. “Oh! You want me to walk you back! Of course!”  Hastily scrambling up, he gestured for to go first and the followed.

Outside it was starting to cool off a little and Swiftnick took a deep, grateful breath of the fresh night air. It smelt of flowers and crushed grass, scents he had grown used to as a highwayman. Tabitha slipped her arm companionably through his and leaned into his side.

“Everyone will think we’re together if we walk like this. They won’t bother us then....” she explained.

Swiftnick though they were unlikely to be bothered anyway, but she felt nice against his side and she smelled delicious. “So, how did you become an actress then?” he asked curiously.

Tabitha looked at him with a faint frown. “I’ve always been one, ever since I was little. My mother and my father split up a while ago though. And I was living with my mother in Bath; she doesn't think acting is respectable. So, I ran away to join my father, but he was going to send me back to Bath again. That’s when I met up with Mariska....”

“So why did you decide to rob Chiswick?” Swiftnick asked casually.

“What?!” Tabitha came to a startled halt, genuinely surprised by the question. “How did you...? I never.....”

Swiftnick gave her a steady look. “Come on, you were having an affair with Constantine. That’s why Hardwick was sending you home. I suppose you had to rob Chiswick for money?”

Tabitha’s hand flashed out to slap him but Swiftnick was far too quick for that and caught her wrist. “How dare you?!” she spluttered, wrenching her hand free in outrage.

“Pretty easily really. It takes one to know one they say....”

Tabitha swallowed, clearly struggling to control her fury. “You don’t understand. I love Cornelius. Taking that horrible brooch was the only way. Then Cornelius had to hide the thing and it all went wrong. Oh, Nick, if you could only get it back for me, I’d be ever so, ever so grateful!” She leaned towards him, lips slightly parted as she gazed up at him in breathless adoration, her hands fluttering out to touch him.

Swiftnick caught her fingers and fended her off. “You’re a very clever actress, Tab. But how stupid do you think I am?” he demanded indignantly. “How stupid is Cornelius come to that?”

“Don’t you call my Cornelius stupid!” Tabitha flared instantly. “He’s very clever!”

“So clever that he took a brooch that can't be sold and then went and lost it anyway!” Swiftnick scoffed.

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Then you go and lie to Mariska to get it back, which you haven’t done because you couldn’t even find it. I suppose it was Cornelius who searched the caravans?” Seeing the mutinous expression on her pretty face, Swiftnick took another guess. “And that’s why Mariska’s caravan wasn't searched properly. You’d already searched it so Cornelius knew it wasn't there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Tabitha snapped defiantly, folding her arms tightly.

“What were you going to do if you did find it? You can’t sell it. It’s too well known.”

“Break it up and sell the pieces.”

“You’d get hardly anything for it,” Swiftnick pointed out sarcastically.

“Then return it for the reward!”

“And how are you going to explain getting it away from Turpin? Because that’s who Chiswick thinks took it. He’ll probably think you’re me!”

“Never!”

“Why not? You fooled him into thinking it once. Oh yeah, I know you went along with Constantine to rob him.”

“You’re impossible!” Tabitha snapped, swinging around to march off.

Swiftnick took a fast step after her and caught her arm. “Oh no, you’re not going to run off again. I'm taking you back to Dick and Mariska. You can explain to them what game you’ve been playing. We’re not taking the blame for what you did....”

“You let go of me!” Outraged, Tabitha did her best to kick his ankle, which Swiftnick dodged deftly.

“I supposed you sneaked out to meet Constantine, didn’t you?” Swiftnick said as he dragged her along with him, ignoring her efforts to pull free. “He told you about Dick’s little play and how we know what you’re up to. I’ll bet he told you that Dick had the star too.”

“You’re hurting me!” Tabitha whimpered.

Swiftnick gave her a sharp glance. “No, I’m not,” he retorted indignantly.

“I shall scream!” she threatened.

“Go ahead then, scream if you want,” Swiftnick bluffed. “What are you going to tell them? I’ll say we’re having a lovers’ tiff....And what if Hardwick turns up? I could say I was taking you back to him.”

“You’re.....” Tabitha bit her lip, clearly wanting to swear at him.

“Ah ah....” Swiftnick warned, enjoying himself.

Tabitha drew a deep breath to say something rude, then caught herself, staring over his shoulder with rounded eyes.

“Oh, you don’t catch me out that way,” Swiftnick said and then broke off, feeling the all too familiar nudge of a pistol in the centre of his back. He let go of Tabitha instinctively, but before she could turn and run a figure materialised out of the shadows and grabbed her, securing both her wrists on one large hand. In his other hand he held a heavy pistol which he pointed squarely at Swiftnick. “I haven’t got any money,” Swiftnick said cautiously. It was true enough, his purse was empty. Dick had taught him not to carry more than he needed.

“Not interested in your money, lad,” came a steady voice from behind him. “Put your hands behind you....”

“Let Tab go then....”

“She can go in a minute,” came the calm reply. “No one’s going to hurt her....”

“Unless she kicks me,” the other man growled, giving the struggling girl a hard shake and a glare of warning. Tabitha subsided, panting and frightened but waiting her chance to run.

Swiftnick reluctantly put his hands behind his back and felt a loop of rope quickly twisted around his wrists.  Once he was secured, the man put a hand on the youth’s shoulder and turned him around to face him. “Doesn’t look much like a highwayman, does he?” he commented.

“Lord Chiswick says that’s who he is. And he’s the one paying us,” came the answer. “Now, you girl....”

“Stop calling me girl!” Tabitha snapped indignantly.

“Would you prefer doxy?” the man asked casually.

“I am not a doxy!” Tabitha retorted haughtily, lifting her chin in pride.

The man laughed. “Whatever. You go back to Turpin and you tell him that we’re taking Swiftnick here to Lord Chiswick. If he wants him back, he’ll have to return the Star,” he told her. “Here....” Releasing her hands, he thrust a folded paper at her. “Give him this. Tell him if he doesn’t come to the meet on time, Chiswick will hang the boy.”

Tabitha took the paper in shaking hands, looking from it to the two men to Swiftnick then she turned and fled into the darkness. Staring after her, Swiftnick was none too sure she would tell Turpin anything. “She doesn't even know who Turpin is!” he protested.

“He could have a point there,” the man holding his shoulder commented.

“Maybe. But you heard them talking.  Turpin will be waiting for her when she gets back,” his companion said, turning a cool look on Swiftnick. “Now lad, are you going to make things awkward so we have to knock you about a bit? Or are you going to be a good boy and co-operate?”

Swiftnick sighed. “I’ll co-operate,” he agreed grudgingly. No point getting hurt if he could avoid it. He certainly wasn't going to escape from these two, they were far too professional. He was going to have to wait for a better chance or hope that Dick found some way to rescue him.

                                                            * * *

Holding his breath, Cornelius crept towards the caravans, hoping he wouldn’t be seen. It had been Tabitha’s idea for him to make one final search of the caravans if he could. If he couldn’t find the brooch, then the two of them would run off together. At least they'd be together then. They could join another acting troupe. Perhaps even start their own....

A shadow ahead of him moved between him and the camp fire and he froze, holding his breath until he realised it was only one of the tethered horses. Letting out a slow breath, he took another step forward then froze as a something cold and hard touched his shoulder.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up again,” came a conversational voice. “Move forward to the fire now. I don’t really want to shoot you unless I have to. It’ll upset Mariska.”

With a soft groan of despair, Cornelius raised his hands in surrender and trudged out into the circle of firelight. Mariska and Gideon were waiting for them, watching expectantly. “Oh, it’s him,” Mariska exclaimed in disappointment. “Where’s Tabitha?”

“I expect she can take care of herself. Sit you....” Cornelius was thrust down to the ground and he looked up uncertainly at the lean dark haired man standing over him wit the pistol.

“Do I have the honour of meeting Dick Turpin?” Constantine managed faintly.

“I don’t know about the honour, but yes,” Turpin replied coldly. “The man Chiswick is blaming for taking his blasted brooch. I take it you came to look for it again?”

Cornelius nodded miserably. “It was Tabitha’s idea.”

“I thought it might have been. Her idea to take it in the first place, was it?”

“It seemed so easy....”

“It always does,” Dick sighed ruefully, ignoring Mariska’s glare. “Where is she?”

“With or without it, we were going to run way together....”

“You mean elope?” Dick said dryly.

Cornelius flushed. “Well, yes, I suppose elope would be one way to describe it....”

“So, she’s waiting for you, is she?”

“She was going to come back here to get her things. I was to meet her later....”

“Where is she now then?” Dick interrupted sharply, an unsettled edge to his voice.

“She, she....she was going to speak to Nick, see if she could persuade him to get the brooch for her.....”

“What makes you think he could do that?” Turpin demanded harshly.

“Well, er....I supposed that if you were Turpin, then the lad must be Swiftnick. I assumed you’d found it and he would know where you’d hidden it.”

“Oh, did you now. Assumed did you?” Turpin took a menacing step towards the actor. 

“Leave him alone!” Tabitha’s cry, half anger half panic, interrupted them as she ran into the clearing among the caravans and flung herself to her knees beside Constantine, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I won’t let you harm him, I won’t!”

“Is everyone around here so melodramatic?” Dick demanded in exasperation, wondering what on earth she thought he’d been going to do to the twit. It had been blatantly obvious to him that Constantine would tell him anything he wanted to know without Turpin having to do more than threaten him a bit.

“Stop it, darling,” Cornelius ordered crisply however, pushing her away a little. “Turpin’s not going to harm either of us.”

“I'm not?” Dick growled, then paused as that strange indefinable prickle crept down the back of his neck.  The sixth sense that always told him there was trouble about. It had been bothering him since they got back to the caravans, but when Constantine showed up, he had put it down to that. But now.....it was back. “Where’s Nick? Where is he?”

Tabitha flinched back into Constantine’s protecting arms. “I don’t know. It wasn’t my fault....”

“Where is he?!” Turpin took anther furious step towards her, towering over the suddenly frightened girl.

“Stop it, Dick! You’re scaring her!” Mariska protested. “I told you not to....”

“Stay out of this!” Turpin barked at her, startling Mariska into silence. “I’ll bloody do more than scare her if she doesn’t tell me where Swiftnick is!”

“I won’t let you hurt her!” Cornelius challenged bravely, attempting to pull Tabitha behind him. Turpin wasn’t having it. He grabbed Tabitha’s wrist and yanked her to her feet. 

“You know where he is. And you’re going to tell me or so help me....”

“I don’t know!” Tabitha shrieked, shoving the folded paper she had been given at him. “Two men took him. They told me to give you this and said that it you didn’t return the Star, Chiswick would hang the boy!”

For a moment, Turpin went absolutely still, then he let go of her and took a step back, shoving the pistol into his belt. He looked at the red wax seal holding the paper shut for a moment, then broke it with a thumb and quickly read through the contents. “When were you planning on giving me this?” he said coldly. “Or were you not going to bother? Thought you’d hold on to it as a bargaining point, did you?”

“Yes, no....Oh, I don’t know!” Sobbing, Tabitha flung herself back into a white faced Constantine’s arms.

“She's only a girl, Turpin. She’s frightened....” Cornelius protested.

Turpin gave him a grim look. “She’s a conniving little minx and sooner or later you may wish you’d never met her,” he replied darkly.

“Dick...” Mariska protested softly as she rose to her feet and came to his side.

Turpin took a slow breath. “You heard her, Chiswick’s taken Swiftnick. And he wants the Star back.”

“So give it to him,.”

“I would if I thought it’d do any good,” Dick said bitterly.  “Chiswick will double cross me. Then he’ll hang us both for it.”

“You’re both highwaymen,” Tabitha hissed. “It won't be a surprise to you....”

Turpin gave her a chilly look. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but the moment you robbed Chiswick, you became highwaymen too. They catch you, they’ll hang you. One robbery or not. You might get away with it, but Constantine won’t. It’s all the same to them....”

Tabitha went white, hardly breathing in her fright. “That’s not fair....”

“Neither was hiding the Star on Mariska’s caravans....”

“That was my fault!” Constantine protested. “There was such confusion when we got back. Hardwick was looking for Tabitha, there were dragoons everywhere. I hid the thing where I thought I could retrieve it later. I meant to. Only the dragoons searched me and Hardwick was threatening to send Tabitha away. And then when I remembered the brooch, I couldn't find the box. That’s when I realised I hid it in the wrong wagon. You’d already left, there was nothing I could do.”

“So, Tabitha joined us to find the brooch,” Mariska said in a distant voice. “You betrayed us. If anything happens to Swiftnick, it’ll be your fault.”

“How can you say that?!” Tabitha wailed, turning shocked eyes on the older woman. “All I wanted was to be with Cornelius!”

“Hush, love,” Constantine said kindly. “She's right. It is our fault. I knew it was a mistake to start with.” He pressed a finger to her lips as she started to protest again. “I should have told Hardwick. I am a gentleman, after all, my dear, and my family is of good standing. True my family does not understand my wish to become an actor, but they have not completely cast me off. I could have taken you to them. Should have. I still can....”

“Constantine....” Turpin interrupted grimly. “I don’t have time for babbling....”

Cornelius dragged his eyes from Tabitha's adoring face and looked up at him. “Yes? Oh! Let me assure you, Turpin, I will do everything I can to help you get the lad back. I cannot in good conscience let any harm befall him.”

“Oh Cornelius, you can’t! You could be killed!” Tabitha wailed, clutching at him.

“I am a gentleman, love, it is the only honourable thing to do.” Constantine gently set her aside and rose to his feet, shoulders back and chin up. “I await your orders, sir.”

Turpin cocked his head to one side, amused despite the black mood that consumed him. A glimmer of light was showing itself to him. A possible way out of this mess. “Tell me, Cornelius, do you still have the outfit you wore when you robbed Chiswick....?”

                                                            * * *

The brutal blow rocked Swiftnick’s head back and if he hadn’t been held up by the two guards, he would have fallen to the floor.

“Hold him tighter, you fools!” Chiswick snarled. “I don’t want these rugs marked.”

The two guards exchanged a look over Swiftnick’s drooping head. Neither of them approved of Chiswick’s violence. After all Swiftnick wasn’t much more than a boy, even if he was a highwayman and they both had their doubts of that. They weren’t too fond of Chesterton as he slumped in a fine winged chair either, watching avidly as Chiswick slapped the youth around. Both of them had been drinking heavily before they brought his Lordship the boy...

“Then stop him hitting him, Cedric,” a cool voice commented from the doorway. The Honourable Timothy lounged elegantly against the door jamb, a glass of wine poised in long fingers.

“Go away, Timothy. This doesn’t concern you....” Chiswick snapped.

“Of course it does, you’re putting me off my supper....” Ignoring him, Chiswick lifted his fist again.

Swiftnick did his best not to flinch and eyed him defiantly. “I'm not telling you anything,” he warned.

“We’ll see.....” Chiswick gloated, flexing his fingers and enjoying the glint of trepidation in Swiftnick’s eyes as he watched him. .

 The Honourable Timothy shuddered elaborately.  “And then there’s the thought of what Turpin will do to you if he finds out....”

Chiswick paused. “What?” 

The Honourable Timothy sipped his wine and peeked at him over the top of the glass. “Well, Turpin is not known to be reasonable when it comes to his partner. Prone to violence when crossed I've heard. And if you hurt this young creature I am fairly sure it will count as crossing him....”

Chiswick hesitated, eyeing Swiftnick uneasily. Like most bullies he was basically a coward when it came down to it. “Turpin wouldn’t dare....”

“Dared to rob you, didn’t he?” Timothy pointed out.

“Got a point there, Cedric,” Chesterton observed lazily.

Chiswick shifted angrily, frustrated at being denied the wish to lash out.

Swiftnick lifted his head and gave him a defiant glare. “Turpin will have your guts for garters....” he threatened.

“What a vulgar expression!” The Honourable Timothy exclaimed. “Your guts for garters indeed! Now that would make a mess of your precious rugs, Cedric.”

Chiswick turned a look of loathing on him. “I want the Star back....” he growled.

“I still say you shouldn’t have been wearing it in the first place. I warned you....Wear the copy I said, but would you listen? Oh nooo....You always know best....” Timothy sneered.

“Shut up!” Chiswick hissed at his brother. Chesterton snickered and helped himself to more brandy from the bottle beside him.

“Like beating the boy up. Obviously that’s going to help,” Timothy went on sarcastically. “Best thing you can do is make Turpin mad at you. Guaranteed he’ll give you the Star back then....”

Chiswick’s jaw twitched as his teeth clenched. Swiftnick could hear them grinding.  “He has to return it if he wants the boy back....”

“The only thing he’ll return to you is a bullet if you kill the lad,” Timothy snapped back at him in a suddenly hard voice then slipped hastily back into his foppish drawl with a little giggle. “I mean I very much doubt he’ll accept you being drunk as an excuse....”

Swiftnick’s captors exchanged a look and one of them spoke up. “I think the Honourable Timothy might be right, your lordship.”

“Timothy? Right?”  Chiswick sneered.

“You need the boy in one piece to exchange him for the Star, sir.” The guard commented, glancing uneasily as his mate. “And I wouldn’t want Turpin mad at me....”

“Blast it! He robbed me! I'm the one in the right!” Chiswick bellowed.

“Only seems fair to me to exchange the boy in good shape if you want the Star back undamaged,” Timothy commented casually.

Chiswick looked at him as if he wanted to shoot his brother. “I want to know where the Star is and this boy knows.....”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Timothy said airily. “I mean would you tell him anything? You certainly wouldn’t tell me.  Turpin’s a highwayman. I don’t suppose he trusts anyone.”

Chiswick hesitated, suddenly stuck by that. He gave Swiftnick a suspicious look. “Do you know where the Star is?”

“No....” Swiftnick answered flatly. It wasn’t completely a lie. He knew Turpin probably still had it on him. But where Turpin himself was....

Timothy waved a hand, careful not to spill his drink. “There. You see? You’ll get more out of him with honey than a stick....”

“Fine. If you’re so convinced you can get him to talk, you can find out where the Star is...” Chiswick gestured roughly at Swiftnick. “Get him out of my sight and lock him up....And make sure you guard him well, I don’t want him escaping...” The guards grabbed Swiftnick promptly, to his relief hustling him out of the room and away from the mad drunken gleam in Chiswick’s emotionless eyes. “And you, Timothy, can be one of his guards....”

“Oh, I say! I'm not dressed for it....”

A short while later, Swiftnick shifted on the floor of the room the guards had flung him into. Chiswick manor was an old building and one end of its vaulted cellar had been partitioned off to make a series of store rooms. The one where they had tossed Swiftnick had been tuned into a strong room at some point and boasted a heavy iron grill in place of the oak doors of the others. There were a number of old iron trunks still in the strong room and Swiftnick sat on one rather than the cold stone floor. It vaguely crossed his mind to wonder if any of the trunks still had valuable contents, but they had searched him roughly but effectively and taken all his lockpicks away. Besides if he was going to use his skills on anything it would be the door lock rather than looking for riches... But he’d have to wait a while until things settled down and find a nail or something to pick the lock with. It looked possible to do; it was a huge old thing and had sounded rusty when they locked it....

A suddenly murmur of noise made him look up from his contemplation of the lock and stare in fascination as the Honourable Timothy pranced towards him across the cellar, now dressed in dark peach and gold. Three servants paced dignifiedly behind him, one carrying a small table, one a chair and the third what appeared to be a picnic hamper. As Swiftnick watched in awe, the table was carefully positioned before the grill and the chair placed precisely beside it and dusted carefully by its carrier. The third man opened the picnic hamper and produced a crisp linen tablecloth which he whisked over the table before he proceeded to lay it, putting out a place setting complete with silver cutlery, a candlestick, bottles of ale and wine, delicate glasses with twisted barley cane stems and dishes of ham, cheese, boiled eggs and fresh bread and butter. Finally he lit the candles and bowed gracefully to the Honourable Timothy who had lounged at ease, absently wafting a handkerchief as he idly watched the preparations.

“Your supper is ready, sir,” the servant announced, holding the chair for him.

“Thank you, that will be all, Perkins,” Timothy thanked him as he flicked out his coat tails and seated himself. “No need for you to stay. I can manage now.”

“Oh but, sir....”

“No, really, Perkins. I’ll be fine.  No need to fuss. You get some sleep.  No need for us both to suffer because Cedric is being his usual boorish self.”

“If there is anything you need, sir....”

“I shall not hesitate to call. Run along now. Oh, and I shall need the brown velvet I think for this exchange thingy. Mustn’t be overdressed, what?”

“I shall see to it at once, sir.” With another bow Perkins retreated, beckoning the other two servants to go with him.

Timothy watched them disappear up the steps and sighed ruefully as the heavy oak door closed with a dull thump behind them. Then he reached to fill a glass with ale before rising to his feet and wandering over to the iron grill. He offered the glass to Swiftnick. “Will you partake of an ale, Master Swiftnick? I’d offer the wine, but I think you’re a little young for that....” he asked politely. Swiftnick stayed silent, staring back at him suspiciously. Timothy sighed. “Ah, quite right. You have no reason to trust me at all, do you?” he said sadly. “But see, it isn’t poisoned....” Taking a sip of the ale, he set the glass down on the floor and retreated back to the table to seat himself.

Swiftnick hesitated for a moment, but he was really thirsty and ached from the manhandling he’d received. He scooted over to the grill and eased the glass through one of the square holes. He took a cautious sip. It was good ale; strong and malty and he relaxed slightly.

“Would you care to share my supper?” Timothy suggested as he sipped a glass of wine. “You must be hungry and there’s nothing worse than being watched while you eat alone.” He chuckled softly. “Or watching someone else eat, when you’re hungry....” When Swiftnick said nothing, continuing to watch him, Timothy sighed and got up, pushing the table up to the grill. “Help yourself, my dear,” he told him as he fetched his chair.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll attack you?” Swiftnick asked in astonishment.

“My dear boy, what would be the point of that? I don’t have the key. I'm certainly not armed after those ruffians had the cheek to search me. And thanks to Cedric I’m as locked in here as you are. And those villains of his are on guard outside...” Timothy paused, taking a moment to calm himself. “Do have some of the ham. It’s quite excellent,” he urged as he eased the bread rolls close to the grill so Swiftnick could reach.

“Why are you doing this?” Swiftnick wondered as he made a quick grab for a buttered roll.

“The least I could do. I owe you an apology for my behaviour at the fair. If I’d been sober I assure you I would not have behaved so badly. Boiled egg?”

“Thanks.” Swiftnick took one from the silver dish Timothy offered. Combined with the fresh bread, it tasted wonderful.

“I have to say though that Cedric has behaved far more badly than I ever have. I really must apologise for the way he’s treated you, because he certainly never will. It’s terribly bad form, you know. Thinks he can do anything, behave anyway he wants because he has a title.” Timothy absently pushed the ham over to the grill. “I'm afraid he’s a bully and a boor. Chesterton’s no better. Distinctly bad influence on Cedric. Not that he ever listens to me.”

“Why do you care?” Swiftnick wondered, stuffing ham into another buttered roll.

“Have to, my brother, don’t you know. Told you he was my brother, didn’t I?”

“Yes. I meant, why care about me?”

Timothy blinked. “Noblesse oblige and all that whatnot.”

“What?” Swiftnick stared at him in confusion.

Timothy smiled at him. “Adorable, t’ain’t you?” he chuckled. “Means we have certain responsibilities, certain ways a man should behave, to be honourable, that kind of thing. Besides, Cedric’s an idiot. I can’t believe he wore the real Star. It’s his own fault he was robbed. I can’t imagine what he was thinking of.” Timothy paused thoughtfully, munching on an egg. “Well, actually I can. He was boasting again I expect. When he was gibbering about it afterwards I wondered what was wrong with him until I realised he’d lost the real Star not the copy. And not even to Turpin!”

“He knew it wasn't Turpin?”

Timothy smiled faintly. “Oh, yes, he knew. That was a thorn to his ego too. Hadn’t even been robbed by Turpin. That’s why he put it about that he had been. Dare say that why the real Turpin did rob him, hmmh? Matter of pride what?”

“I imagine so. Not that I was there....”

Timothy considered him for a moment, sharing a secret smile with the youth. “Quite. Nowhere near the place at the time. Obviously. Snuggled up in a haystack with a pretty wench no doubt.” Swiftnick blushed and ducked his head. “Have another egg, dear boy,” Timothy urged cheerfully. “Now, what we must do is decide how to help you escape. After all I didn’t annoy Cedric enough to make him send him down here without a reason, did I? Place is terribly draughty...” He clicked his fingers in annoyance. “Silly me, I should have asked for a blanket for you...”

“I'm fine,” Swiftnick said in awe as he gave him a startled look. “Help me?”

“Oh, quite. Cedric is being an utter bore. I shall delight in humiliating him. After all, he does his best to humiliate me often enough,” Timothy’s eyes glinted steel for a moment, then the mask of the fop was back in place. “Now, my first thought was to drug the guards. But I have nothing to drug them with of course. Getting them drunk was another possibility. But I suspect I don’t have enough alcohol in the place to do it. Or the time it would take. Assuming they’d trust me enough. Remind me a bit of dogs, wild dogs that is....Can’t trust them....More ham?”

“Please....” Swiftnick murmured in awed amusement.

Timothy absently handed him the ham and another roll. “Still, I dare you’re quite an expert at escaping. Any suggestions? I have to admit I'm a bit of an amateur when it comes to this kind of thing....Oh, where are my manners? I was forgetting the cheese....Do have some....”

                                                            * * *

There was a thick white morning mist twirling through the trees, laying in soft cloudy swirls across the meadow where Chiswick had insisted that they meet.  So close to dawn, the air felt cool and a little damp, scented with grass and leaves and damp earth. Beneath the mist, lay the promise of another warm golden day, the morning tingled with anticipation and bird song....

Waiting astride Black Bess and peering through the mist, Turpin frowned to himself. The coach was taking its time to arrive. He had marked it and its outriders on the road and then taken the shortcut over the hill to the clearing where they were to meet.

He wasn’t in the mood to appreciate the ethereal qualities of a mist veiled wood, wishing instead for a clearer morning. Better visibility might have eased his taut stretched nerves a little, but he doubted it. He blamed himself for Swiftnick being caught, felt he should have kept a closer eye on him. Chiswick was more dangerous that he had expected and the idea of Swiftnick being in his hands and suffering for what he had done gave him the chills...

Turpin shivered slightly and rested his hand on the pistol in his saddle holster. Dawn was a time for duels, for sudden bullets in the mist and abrupt endings.... No doubt that was why Chiswick had chosen it in a theatrical gesture. But Dick had no intention of following whatever script he had in mind. Chiswick was the sort of rich man he despised; the kind to spout about honour but double cross you the first chance he had and never understand exactly how dishonourable he was. The kind who thought having a title gave him the right to do anything he pleased; a stupid greedy man.

Out in the mists of the meadow there was movement, the fine veils swirling like cream as they drew back curtain like from a small carriage drawn by matched greys.

Turpin smiled mirthlessly to himself. As he had expected, the two bully boys had disappeared; no doubt making their way through the woods to ambush him. They were going to get a shock if they thought they’d get the drop on him....

Chesterton was driving and reined the greys to a halt in the middle of the clearing. He swung down from the seat, glancing around him warily and keeping one hand to the pistol in his belt as he walked round to open the door and speak to whoever was inside.

Dick waited watchfully, running his fingertips lightly over the pistol butt.

After a moment, Chesterton stepped back and Swiftnick was thrust out of the carriage, barely managing to stay on his feet as he landed and staggered. Chesterton grabbed him by the back of his neck and yanked him back to his side, saying something to him that made Swiftnick shoot a defiant look at him. Chiswick climbed down next with one hand on the pistol in his belt. Behind him emerged the elegantly brown velvet clad figure of the Honourable Timothy.

“Oh, my shoes shall be quite ruined by this wet grass!” Timothy bemoaned, his voice carrying clearly across the meadow as he stumbled over a tussock on his high heels, nearly knocking Swiftnick sprawling. Shoving him impatiently aside, Chesterton grabbed Swiftnick and hauled him back before the youth could make a run for it.

“Should have worn hunting boots,” Chiswick snapped back at Timothy impatiently. “Besides, I never asked you to come anyway. You’ll only be in the way as usual.”

“He’s not in favour of hunting, remember,” Chesterton sneered. “I doubt if even owns a pair of boots.”

“Nonsense,” Timothy replied haughtily. “I’m all for vermin hunting. The more of you that break your necks the better,”

Chesterton gave him a sharp frown, not quite getting the fop’s sarcasm.

Chiswick half laughed. “We have our own vermin to hunt,” he said however, casting another glance around him and lifting his voice to shatter the bird song. “Turpin! We’re here! Alone as agreed...”

Dick smiled icily to himself. “Oh yes, I can see you,” he murmured. “And how much of a fool do you take me for? How many men do you have lurking about waiting to shoot me as soon as they see me?”

Without moving from his concealment in the trees, he studied Swiftnick as he stood between Chesterton and Timothy. He didn’t seem to be hurt, stiff and roughed up a little perhaps, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Dick’s eyes narrowed a little, noting that the youth’s wrists were tied awkwardly behind him. It was to be expected of course; Chiswick wouldn’t want his prey to escape him. But it did make things a little trickier....

A lilting whistle trilled through the air and Turpin smiled mirthlessly. Georgiou and Raphael had found their prey then. Time to move....

“You do realise that this is a ridiculous place to hold such an assignation don’t you?” Timothy observed loftily into the silence that fell after Chiswick’s shout.

“No one asked you....” Chiswick told him.

“You never do,” Timothy retorted. “I mean, this place is asking for us to be ambushed. What if Turpin shoots us all from cover?”

“Don’t be such a coward,” Chesterton sneered at him. “Turpin wouldn’t dare. We’d shoot the boy....”

Timothy gave him a condescending look. “Oh yes? And what makes you think Turpin will be alone? Dashed easy to pick us all off before you could so much as look wrong at the boy...”

“We told him to come alone,” Chiswick snapped.

“So? You said you would as well and you didn’t. At least he has the excuse of being a highwayman.”

“Why don’t you wait in the coach if it bothers you that much?” Chesterton demanded as Chiswick eyed Timothy uneasily. “That’s why we brought it; as cover should Turpin get tricky.”

Chiswick shook himself as his friend spoke up. “Turpin! I know you’re here!” he bellowed again. “Come out or I’ll shoot the boy!”

“Oh very clever,” Timothy sniffed. “Threats as well. How encouraging....I’m sure he’ll be very impressed.”

“Shut up!” Chiswick barked. “Chesterton, show him we mean what we say....”

Chesterton glared at him and yanked Swiftnick in front of him. “Turpin! You show yourself or I’ll break his arm!”

“You do and I’ll put a bullet in you!” came the angry answer from the trees.

“And he’s a very good shot,” Swiftnick murmured, relieved to hear his partner’s voice. He hadn't been entirely sure Tabitha would tell Turpin of Chiswick’s demands.

Chesterton shook him until his teeth rattled. “Is that Turpin? Is it?” he hissed at him.

“Can’t you tell?” Swiftnick challenged.

High and sweet on the air came a lilting whistle, then after a moment a second one responded from a slightly different direction.

“What was that?” Chiswick looked around uneasily.

“Your guards signalling each other?” Timothy suggested.

“Oh yes, of course.....” Chiswick agreed but he drew his pistol and licked his lips. “Turpin!” he yelled again. “If you don’t show yourself immediately....”

“I’m here,” came the cool response and Chiswick almost jumped out of his skin, spinning to look behind him at the dark rider and horse looming up out of the mist.

“Or perhaps here....” said another rough voice and Chesterton swore, taking aim at the second rider coming towards them.

“How m’many of them are there?” Timothy blurted, edging closer to Chesterton. “You will protect me from these brutes, won’t you?”

Swiftnick glanced at him and then turned back to the two riders now flanking them with a frown. It was hard to tell in the mist who the second rider was. Even with his mask up, he knew the first one was Turpin, he knew the way his partner rode and recognised Black Bess, but he didn’t know the other man for sure.

“There are enough of us,” Turpin said quietly, leaning on his mare’s neck and looking down at Chiswick.  “Here’s the deal, you let the boy go and we let you go. Seem fair?”

“I want the Star,” Chiswick shot back. “And you were told to come alone!”

“So were you,” the second man commented dryly.

Swiftnick shot a look at him in surprise; recognising Constantine’s voice even muffled by the black silk handkerchief drawn over his face.

Chiswick jerked his head at Chesterton and Timothy. “Of course I brought my companions. You’re highwaymen. You can’t be trusted.......”

 “Neither can you it seems,” Turpin replied coldly. “Not even to tell the truth. I know you had two more men with you. Did you think I wouldn’t be watching for you to come up the road?”

Chiswick paled slightly, flashing a glance towards the woods as he realised what the signal had been. “You said it was the guards signalling,” he blurted, glaring at Timothy.

“And how exactly should I know? You don’t usually listen to me....” Timothy sniffed.

“What does it matter?” Chesterton interrupted gruffly. “We’ve got the Swiftnick. Either Turpin hands over the Star or I’ll break the boy’s neck.” Swiftnick tensed as Chesterton shifted his grip on him.

Turpin settled back in his saddle, showing the pistol he held concealing in front of him. “I wouldn’t let you do that,” he said icily.

“You don’t scare me,” Chesterton sneered.

“No, you’re too stupid to be scared,” Turpin retorted, unimpressed.

“That’s not even my Swiftnick....” Constantine added loftily.

“Don’t be absurd!” Chiswick snapped. “I recognise you both.”

“Indeed,” said Constantine. “So, if he’s Swiftnick, who’s that?” He gestured across the clearing to where a slight figure in a cloak waited in the shadow of the mist, a tricorn jammed down over pale curls.

Chiswick goggled, suddenly uncertain.

“You pick some village lad to threaten and expect me to hand over the Star for him?” Constantine went on coldly. “That boy has certainly never ridden with me. And I'm the one who took the Star off you...”

“But the boy said....” Chiswick began.

“Actually, Cedric, he didn’t,” Timothy murmured. “And you did say it wasn’t Turpin who took the Star. It was someone else. So if he is Swiftnick then you’re threatening the wrong man....”

Turpin eyed Timothy thoughtfully. Under the powder and paint, there was a very intelligent young man he suspected. Of the three of them he was probably more of a threat than either of the two bullies.

“Then why are they here!” Chesterton snapped impatiently.

 “There is a code of the road, you know....” Constantine said coolly.

There was? It was the first Swiftnick had heard of it. He slid another look at Timothy. He was very close now and if Chesterton was distracted....

“The point being, you let the boy go and we don’t have to get violent about it,” Turpin interrupted.

“I want the Star back,” Chiswick grated stubbornly.

“And I don’t want you blaming me for something I didn’t do,” Turpin shot back bitterly.

“You still robbed me,” Chiswick challenged.

“Of a few trifles, yes. Nothing important. My er companion here took the Star by mistake. For a dare.” Turpin paused, studying Chiswick with icy detachment. “You let the boy go and you can have the Star back. It’s worthless to us.”

“You hand over the Star and we’ll let the boy go,” Chesterton bargained.

Chiswick gave him an annoyed look. “I'm handling this....”

“No, you’re not. You’re making a mess of it,” Chesterton retorted grimly. “As soon as we give them the boy, they’ll ride off with the Star. If they even have it, which I doubt. They’ve probably already sold it. Or exchanged it for drink in some tavern...”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Timothy interrupted with a disdainful sniff. “Of course he’s got the Star. It’s too well known to be sold. And no innkeeper would take it for the same reason. Why else would they be here?”

“To bluff us into handing over the boy,” Chiswick told him. 

Timothy shook his head. “Nonsense. They’re highwaymen; they don't need to bluff us. He told us he was watching us. All he had to do was stop the coach and take the boy at pistol point once your guards had left. No doubt they have us surrounded even as we speak...”

Chiswick frowned at him. “Then why deal with us at all?”

“Because they don’t want the boy hurt,” Chesterton guessed astutely.

“If you’ve finished arguing,” Turpin growled. “We could have shot you all from ambush as soon as you cleared the carriage.  We didn’t. We’re willing to exchange the Star for the boy. As I said, it’s no good to us. But you let him go first....”

“How do I know you even have the Star?” Chiswick swung back to Turpin, changeable as a wind vane.

Dick sighed and dug into his waistcoat pocket, extracting the Star. The brooch glittered with blood red sparkles as it filled his hand.

With a grim expression, Chesterton lifted the pistol he held towards Turpin. “You hand that to....” he began then broke off as, with a sudden wrench, Swiftnick lunged out of his grip and grabbed Timothy, jerking him in front of him with a fist bunched in his jacket.

“Oh I say....” Timothy squeaked, buckling at the knees, as Swiftnick plucked his loosely held pistol from his hand.

“Timothy, you blasted fool!” Chiswick bellowed, starting forward.

“Back off!” Swiftnick yelled, shoving the pistol into Timothy’s back. 

Turpin was gaping at them in shock. The last thing he had expected was for his young partner to free himself and take a part in his own rescue. But he recovered fast. “You heard him,” he barked, backing him up. “Drop your weapons! Now!”

Chiswick looked up at him mutinously, glaring at the pistol aimed at him. But he dropped his pistol and swore at Chesterton until he did the same. Constantine hovered, pistol in hand as he watched, flicking little glances at Turpin for leadership.

“Over there....” Dick edged Black Bess towards them and Chiswick and Chesterton backed up until they stood with their backs to the carriage.

“Now what?” Constantine asked nervously. “Do we rob them?”

“No,” Dick said flatly. “Swiftnick! Can you hang on to him?”

“No problem.” Swiftnick assured him smugly.

He sounded a little too complacent for Dick’s taste, but now was not the time to argue with him. “Get him into the trees then. Go on.....” Turpin shot a quick glance at the youth, approving of the way Swiftnick obediently marched a feebly protesting Timothy away. “You go with them,2 he ordered Constantine and the actor nodded and rode after them.

“Let him go, Turpin,” Chiswick growled.

“When I'm ready,” Dick answered. “Shoe’s on the other foot now, hmmh?”

Chiswick glared at him sullenly. “All right. How much do you want?” he spat.

“For what? Timothy? Or the Star?” Turpin answered mockingly.

Chiswick’s handsome face contorted into a grimace. “Both of them...”

“Nothing,” Dick said flatly.

“What?” Chesterton goggled at him while Chiswick stared at him in mute shock.

“Nothing?” Chiswick repeated finally.

Dick jerked his head in a nod and reached under his cloak. Drawing the brooch from his pocket, he tossed it casually to Chiswick who managed a fumbling catch. “You keep it safe this time,” he warned. “Like I told you, I never took it the first time. And if you keep on blaming me, I’ll make it known that you were robbed by a couple of nobodies.”

Chiswick stared at him in bitter anger.

“Are you going to let him talk to you like that?” Chesterton demanded. “Shoot him!”

“I'm the one with the pistol....” Dick pointed out blandly as he drew up the reins.

“Oh yes, you’re very brave with a pistol in your hand.....” Chesterton sneered.

Turpin gave him a chilly look. “So are you with a couple of drinks and an unarmed foe from what I hear,” he retorted sarcastically. “Was it you who hit the boy?”

“How dare you?” Chesterton bristled.

“Oh shut up,” Chiswick said wearily. “You’re making a bloody fool of yourself.”

“We can take him....”

“And what about Timothy?” Chiswick snapped. “His companions have him, remember?”

From the expression on Chesterton’s face, he didn’t care. Turpin had made him angry by practically calling him a coward.

“You can have him back,” Dick said steadily. “We certainly don’t want him. As soon as we’re well away, we’ll let him go. And don’t bother calling for your men to come after us, they’re trussed and bound and will do you no good at all until you untie them.”

Chiswick nodded grimly, his eyes glittering as he watched Turpin turn Black Bess and ride away from him. All the way across the clearing, Dick could feel his eyes on his back and the spot between his shoulders itched in anticipation of a bullet....

Swiftnick was waiting for him, practically hopping from foot to foot for him to reach him. Tabitha had brought hauling the horses out of the trees to meet them. Watched by Constantine, Timothy sat astride Toby, his hands clasped together under his chin and a strange half smile on his face.

“Dick, I've got to tell you.....” Swiftnick began urgently.

“Look out!” Tabitha shrieked at the same moment as the shot rang out.

Swiftnick yelped and spun sideways, dropping to one knee with an expression of shock on his face as he clutched at his bloodied left upper arm.

“What the....?!” Dick looked round in fury, seeing Chesterton fling aside the emptied pistol and reaching for another one in the grass. “Ride!” Shouting the order at the others, Dick out stretched one hand to Swiftnick and when the youth caught it, yanked him up into the saddle behind him in a practised move. They hurtled after the others, vanishing into the concealment of the forest. Tabitha led the way at a gallop into the trees with Cornelius hauling Timothy astride Toby along behind him.

Turpin cast one look back, hoping they’d manage to get clear before Chesterton could fire again. He was in time to see Chiswick hurling himself at Chesterton. A pistol went flying from Chesterton’s hand as Chiswick flung him into the grass, the two of them screaming abuse as they pummelled at each other....

Dick gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to go back and shoot the pair of them. “You all right, Swiftnick?” he demanded over his shoulder to his young partner.

Swiftnick nodded, keeping a firm grip on Turpin’s waist. “He only grazed me....Dick?”

“What?”

“Thanks....”

Turpin snorted into the wind that stung his face. “I've told you before, I’ll always come after you, even if it’s only to knock some sense into you....”

                                                            * * *

Black Bess soon overtook the others and Turpin led the way, only slowing once he was sure they were safely away and they were close to the clearing where he had arranged to meet Georgiou and Raphael. Despite Swiftnick’s insistence he was all right, Dick could tell his partner was hurting and needed a rest. Reining his mare to a halt, he put one arm behind him for Swiftnick to grip for support as the youth slid off the horse’s back. To Dick’s alarmed astonishment however, it was the Honourable Timothy who got to him first, steadying Swiftnick as he landed and hustling him over to sit on a handy tree log.

“There, there now, dear boy,” Timothy crooned as he hastily tore Swiftnick’s shirt sleeve open. “It doesn’t look too bad....”

Stalking over to join them, Dick glowered at the fop indignantly. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be a hostage....”

“Oh bah! Make yourself useful and find some water or wine or something to wash this with....” Timothy ordered a startled Turpin impatiently.

“Er, it’s only a scratch,” Swiftnick said hastily, eyeing the fulminating expression on a fuming Turpin’s face in trepidation. “And I think I’d rather let Dick take care of it....”

“What? Well, really...If you’d prefer.....” Timothy exclaimed.

Turpin grabbed the fop by one arm and hoisted him to his feet. “Would you care to explain what’s going on?” he demanded. “I take it you two planned this debacle?”

“Debacle?” Timothy gazed at him in astonishment. “What an unusual word for a highwayman to use.”

“I know a lot of other words as well,” Dick retorted sourly. “Some of them not so pretty. And if you don’t start explaining yourself pretty soon you’re going to start hearing them....”

“It was my idea!” Swiftnick interrupted hastily. “Timothy wanted to help me escape. He didn’t trust Chiswick not to double cross you.”

“He was right,” Dick said grimly. “He sent a couple of men to ambush me.”

“Expected you to be alone I dare say....I could have told him it wouldn’t be that easy....” Timothy observed.

“I’m glad you didn’t, but don’t interrupt,” Dick retorted sarcastically, blandly ignoring the look Timothy gave him and the fact he had interrupted Swiftnick himself.

“Well, that’s more or less it. Timothy was going to give me a chance to take him hostage and we were going to ride off and escape.” Swiftnick slid a glance towards where Tabitha was snuggling up to Constantine’s side. “I wasn’t sure you’d know what had happened so I thought any escape plan was better than none. And then when I thought Chesterton was going to shoot you....” He started to shrug, winced and thought better of it, cradling his sore arm instead. “Timothy didn't think Chiswick would risk shooting as us while I had him hostage.”

“He was almost right,” Dick observed.

“We may not be the most affectionate of siblings, but we are siblings,” Timothy said haughtily. “I hadn't counted on Constantine being a drunken fool however.”

“No,” Dick said thoughtfully, making a mental note to rob and humiliate Chesterton as soon as possible. Leaving him naked on a cold road at night somewhere might make a good start.... “But why?”

“He was drinking rather a lot....” Timothy said vaguely.

“No, I meant why bother to help Swiftnick?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Oh yes....” Dick said softly.

“I trust him, Dick,” Swiftnick protested.

“I know you do,” Dick conceded. “But I dare say he gave you a reason to believe him, hmmh?”

Timothy smiled faintly. “Cedric is a bully and a bore and I am very tired of his boasting. And I had no wish to see young Swiftnick here come to harm because of Cedric’s arrogant folly. Besides....”

“Besides what?” Dick asked warily.

“Any friend of Willoughby Cresset is a friend of mine,” Timothy said smugly. “He’s told me all about you, you know. A villain and a rogue, he called you.”

“I have fond memories of Willoughby too,” Dick observed darkly. Cresset had been masquerading as Turpin when they met. They had ended up robbing Sir John Glutton’s strong box together.

Timothy chuckled. “But also an honourable gentleman he’s proud to know. I must admit I was intrigued by the tale he told me about you and Swiftnick. And when my chance arrived to return the favour you’d done him, what could I do? Besides, I rather embarrassed Swiftnick at the fair and it seemed the least I could do.”

“You could have been killed,” Dick pointed out.

Timothy shrugged slender shoulders. “Oh, bah! I was bored....” He tapped a fingertip against his lips. “But, if I might ask....as I did help you some small way....”

“Ask what?” Turpin said warily.

“Who really took the Star?” Timothy asked. “I promise, I shall never tell anyone....”

“We did,” Tabitha’s clear voice carried across the clearing.

“My goodness!” Timothy gave her a startled glance. “But you’re a girl!”

“We know,” Dick said heavily. “She was pretending to be Swiftnick and....er...her friend there ...” he gestured at Constantine, “....was pretending to be me.”

“Well, really as If anyone would mistake Swiftnick for......” Timothy paused as Swiftnick glowered at him, then burbled, “Yes well, I was rather drunk and you were wearing a dress.....” Dick laughed. “And then there was that harridan.....” Dick’s smile vanished and Swiftnick gurgled. “Did I say something amusing?” Timothy asked warily as the highwaymen exchanged looks.

“Not really,” Dick said darkly. “But the point is, Swiftnick and I were nowhere near the place at the time.  Chiswick only recognised us because we robbed him the second time. I don't know what he’d have done if I hadn't turned up with the Star....”

“Killed you and blamed you anyway, I expect,” Timothy said soberly. “That’s what he needed. Someone to blame. Salving his pride is almost as important as the Star. After all, it’s only a brooch when all’s said and done and a vulgar one at that. Hardly fashionable. He could wear the copy and pretend it’s the real thing. Or say the real one is locked away for safety. Assuming he didn't tell everyone you’d destroyed the thing, that is....”

Dick eyed him curiously. “And now that he’s got the Star and we’ve got away, what’s he likely to do now? Come after us?” he interrupted when Timothy paused to draw breath.

Timothy pursed his lips in consideration. “No,” he said slowly. “If I talk to him, I think he’ll let it go.” A wicked little smile curved his mouth. “In fact, I shall relay a message from you to ensure he does.”

Dick frowned at him for a moment, then smiled back. “Ah, yes, his pride. If he starts bragging about getting the Star back from me, or hunting us, then I shall start spreading the truth. That he was robbed of the Star by a scrawny wench and her scruffy lover and he had to pay to get it back....”

“Touché!” Timothy chuckled approvingly. “And rumours are so much harder to silence.”

“I am not a scrawny wench!” Tabitha put in indignantly, bracing her hands on her hips. Her eyes blazed over the mask Cornelius had had the sense to make her keep on.

“I can see that,” Timothy said in dry approval. “But you don’t want Cedric to actually know that, do you?”

Dick grinned as Tabitha was silenced for once. “Timothy, I’m glad you’re on our side,” he said dryly.  “Look, I don’t care what story Chiswick comes up with to explain how he got the Star back as long as he keeps us out of it.” And didn’t connect Mariska and the others with them.

“I shall see to it,” Timothy promised.

“What about Chesterton?” Swiftnick asked uneasily.

“Oh, don’t worry. I know enough things about him to make sure he says nothing,” Timothy assured him brightly. “Now, are you going to let me see to your arm or not?”

“Not,” Swiftnick said firmly. He had grown used to Turpin’s ministrations and preferred to let his partner deal with his arm. At least he knew Dick knew what he was doing.

Timothy looked miffed but Turpin chuckled. “Why don’t you relax, Timothy?” he suggested as he went to fetch the boiled bandages he kept sealed in wax paper in his saddle bags. “We don’t want to get back to Chiswick too early. You are supposed to be a hostage after all....”

                                                             * * *

The caravan swayed gently as it bumped slowly along. Nested comfortably in a heap of blankets and pillows in the back, Swiftnick half dozed while he waited for Turpin to catch up with the troupe. Once Dick had slathered his partner’s arm in the green herbal ointment that Swiftnick always called Turpin’s Turnip Goop – even though it didn’t have any turnips in - they had taken Timothy back to Bucksby Ford and released him to make his own way home.

Once he was gone, Georgiou and Raphael who had been discreetly following them appeared to report that Chiswick and Chesterton had found and freed the two guards that the actors had captured. There had apparently been a huge argument that nearly came to blows, but Chiswick had apparently paid them off and the four men had gone their separate ways. Chiswick and Chesterton had last been seen heading back to the manor in the carriage.

Satisfied that no one was lying in wait for them, Dick had handed an indignant Swiftnick over to the actors to take back to Mariska and then gone off to take a protesting Cornelius and Tabitha back to Hardwick.

Mariska had moved the caravans a good distance from the village by the time Swiftnick and the others caught up with her. She fussed over Swiftnick while Georgiou told an elaborate tale of highwaymen to Tobias and Obadiah to stop them being suspicious over where they had all been and to explain Swiftnick’s wounded arm.

Swiftnick, still complaining, had then been firmly tucked into his nest of blankets and told to sleep while the caravans once more got under way towards the next village fair. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but it was definitely dark when he woke to the sound of low voices and realised that the caravan had stopped. Sitting up and yawning, he pushed aside the blankets and then tensed as he sensed a shadow in the doorway.

“All right, it’s only me,” Dick said gruffly however. “How you feeling, sunshine?”

Swiftnick yawned again and relaxed. “I'm fine. Hungry....”

Turpin snorted. “Oh aye, you’re fine if you’re hungry,” he said dryly as he settled down beside him. “Mariska’s decided to make camp here. We might as well stay out of the way for a while....” His grin flashed in the darkness. “She’ll only expect me to collect firewood if she sees me. And Gideon’s cooking....”

“You been back long?”

“Long enough to let you sleep,” Dick said cheerfully.

“You should have woken me.”

“And have Mariska hit me? No thanks. You’re going to get pampered, lad....” Swiftnick groaned and sank back against a pillow. “I know. Luxury is so hard,” Turpin teased him.

“What about Tab? And Cornelius?” 

“Off to Bath.”

“Bath?” Swiftnick echoed incredulously. “To her mother?”

“Aye, to stay with her mother until the wedding can be arranged. Hardwick is furious, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Cornelius is set on marrying her, she’s set on marrying him and they’ve already shown him what they’re capable of if they don’t get their own way. And from what Cornelius said, he’s not without connections and money.”

“That’ll sweeten the deal.”

Dick nodded. “We’ll probably get invited to the wedding,” he mused. “By Cornelius at least....”

“Rich pickings?” Swiftnick suggested.

“Mercenary young wretch,” Dick chuckled, then lifted his head as Mariska called him. “Ah, like I said, she wants firewood. Come on, you can help Gideon peel things....”

Swiftnick let Turpin pull him to his feet and followed him out of the wagon into the cool night air, sweet with the scent of forest and flowers. Gideon had got the fire going and waved Swiftnick over as Dick let himself be cornered by a scolding Mariska. The highwayman laughed, catching her up close for a quick kiss that made her blush before she chased him off after Raphael to collect firewood. Georgiou and Tobias were rubbing down the horses and Obadiah was sitting on the steps of one of the caravans, cleaning harness.

Settling beside Gideon, Swiftnick accepted the coffee the playwright handed him and breathed deep, appreciating the peace and quiet of the night while he waited for his partner to come back and share the companionship of the fireside with him.

                                                            oooOooo