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In the depths of winter, the forest was cold and silent, hushed under a fine layer of crisp white snow. The trees had long ago lost their leaves and their branches stood stark and dark against a grey sky. On foot, two figures crept stealthily through the forest. The dark haired man leading the way wore dark cream breeches, black boots and a heavy black jacket over a shirt and leather waistcoat, he was carrying a Brown Bess musket with the air of a man who knew how to use the weapon. He was followed by a dishevelled youth clad in brown breeches and a dark blue coat buttoned up to the throat with a tricorn jammed down tight over a froth of blond curls. "Dick, I'm freezing," he complained quietly. "Can’t we go back yet?" "Mary wanted something for Christmas dinner, didn’t she? You going to go back with a scrawny rabbit?" Swiftnick chewed on his bottom lip, glancing dubiously back the way they had to come to where they had left the horses and the one rabbit he had caught. Their footprints were the only ones to be seen in the snowy wastes of the forest. If there was any wildlife around it was keeping well out of sight. "Couldn’t we buy something?" he suggested in a pleading note. "Buy something?" Dick echoed in a scandalised tone. "We’re highwaymen, lad, we don't buy things!" "We do," Swiftnick argued. "You brought oats for the horses. And coffee. And tea. And bread and cheese and ham...." "Yes, all right," Turpin grumbled. "That’s different." "Why?" Swiftnick demanded petulantly. "Because hunting wild cheeses is damn difficult..." "That isn’t funny!" Turpin shrugged. "I told Mary we’d catch something." "I will. A cold! And my mother will blame you..." "You are not going to get a cold. So it’s a bit chilly...." "It’s freezing. And my boot leaks," Swiftnick shot back. "I've got snow in it. We’ve been on foot for miles." Turpin stopped and turned to face him. Coming to halt, Swiftnick hunched his shoulders and hugged his arms tight across his chest to keep warm. "We have not been on foot for miles," Dick said firmly. "Don’t exaggerate. And you were happy enough pelting me with snowballs earlier!" "But I'm freezing now!" "It isn't my fault you fell into a snow drift," Dick pointed out dryly. Swiftnick glared back at him.. "You said it’d only take ten minutes," he retorted sullenly. Turpin eyed him in exasperation. "I also said, stay with the horses," he reminded him. Swiftnick didn't have to feign the shiver that swept through him and he untucked one hand long enough to inspect his gloved fingers. "I thought it’d be warmer walking. But I think my fingers are going to fall off...." Dick sighed, his breath puffing in a miniature cloud of warmth. "All right, all right, stop whining..." "I wasn't whining!" "We’ll circle back round to the horses. And you can tell Mary why we didn't catch anything." "I don’t think we could catch anything anyway. All the wildlife’s hiding...." Shaking his head, Dick set up, scrunching briskly though the crusty top layer of snow. "Probably from you, the amount of noise you make. I don’t know, for a country lad...." Swiftnick glared at his mentor’s back as he picked his way reluctantly through the snow after him. "I grew up in a pub!" he protested. "I never did much hunting, apart from the odd rabbit...." "And the occasional pheasant?" Dick teased, glancing back at him. "Poaching gets you in trouble," Swiftnick retorted virtuously. "Unlike being on the high toby?" Dick chuckled. "I wasn't expecting to be wandering around in forests up to my neck in snow when I started riding with you!" "We’re back to you falling in the snow drift again," Dick said in amusement. "What with you falling in bogs and snow drifts and rivers...." "I don’t...." Dick looked back over his shoulder at him until Swiftnick ducked his head in chagrin. "Well, not that often and anyway I didn’t know it was a snow drift. I thought it was solid. And you laughed...." Turpin hastily faced front to hide a huge grin. "Aye, but I did dig you out," he chuckled. "And the amount of yelling you did probably frightened off any game for miles...." "That’s what you say. I don’t think you’re any good at hunting or tracking..." Turpin glanced back and looked down his nose at him. "I happen to be very good at both," he said loftily, giving the Brown Bess he carried an affectionate pat. "Back in the army, I could load and fire three shots a minute with one of these; five if I didn't bother aiming." He chuckled ruefully at the memory. "Doing a bit of hunting was a way to supplement the rations when we were out in the country....Mind, it didn't tend to be this cold...." "So you admit it’s cold then?" "And your chattering teeth are frightening off the game..." "My teeth aren’t chattering," Swiftnick said indignantly, then added reflectively. "Yet...." Turpin chuckled again. "And the wildlife’s probably all heard you were coming," Swiftnick shot back, adding with an innocent air, "And the amazing singing badgers would’ve run for it...." Dick shot him a glare at that; one silly comment when he was very drunk and trust Swiftnick to remember it. "How would you like a snowball down your breeches?" he demanded. Swiftnick grinned at him wickedly. "You’d have to catch me first!" he laughed as he broke into a run, racing ahead of him back towards the clearing where they had left the horses. "Last one back tells my mother!" "Oi!" Dick yelled indignantly and tore after him, snow flying from under his boots. They pelted back through woods, dodging in and out of the trees. When he got far enough ahead, Swiftnick would hastily skid to a halt, scoop up a handful of snow and then pelt Turpin with a makeshift snowball the moment he got in range. He was lurking behind a tree, when a cold hand caught him by the back of the neck and shoved a snow ball down his shirt. With a squeal of shock at the touch of snow on bare skin, Swiftnick squirmed free of Turpin’s grip, shoved him off balance and tore off with Dick right on his heels. Skidding into the clearing where they had left the horses in the shelter of a thick canopy of snow laden branches, Swiftnick slithered to a halt on an icy patch and gaped in astonishment. The horses were huddled at the far end of their shelter, staring at the large shaggy brown creature standing at the far end in the snow. Huge antlers crowned its head as it turned its head to stare placidly at Swiftnick. A second later Dick bounded into the clearing, saw the deer and snapped the Brown Bess to his shoulder. "No!" Swiftnick leapt to his side and hastily pushed the musket aside before grabbing at his arm. "What the...?! Are you out of your mind? That’s our Christmas dinner that is!" Dick attempted to shake him off but Swiftnick clung to his arm like a burr. "You can’t shoot it! I think it’s a reindeer!" "Don't be ridiculous! It’s not raining. It’ll probably snow but....argh! Get off!" "No, no, no, not rain, reindeer!" "It’s a bloody deer!" "Reindeer!" "Whatever. It’s venison. Will you let go!" "I won’t let you shoot it!" As he was finally shaken from his tenacious grip, Swiftnick scooted in front of the highwayman and spread his arms wide. "Why not?!" Dick growled in frustration. "Don’t you want a nice roast venison dinner with all the trimmings?" "I’d rather have goose," Swiftnick said honestly. "With that crunchy chestnut stuffing and roast potatoes and carrots and peas and pears in custard to follow...." "And pickled onions. I’m partial to a pickled onion...." Dick mused. He and Swiftnick stared at each other for a long moment, both reflecting on this mental feast. Turpin was the first to stir. "Aye, well, we haven’t got a goose. We have got venison....Now get out of the way before it gets away...." Turpin growled and raised the musket again, glaring down the barrel at the liquid brown eyes of the deer gazing solemnly back at him. "Oh, but Dick, please don’t shoot it. You can’t!" Swiftnick begged miserably. "It wouldn’t be right. And I won't be able to eat it anyway." "We kill it and take it back to Mary to dress and stuff and cook...." Dick said flatly, wishing the blasted thing wouldn't stare at him when he was aiming at it. Funny antlers it had.... Swiftnick let out a snort that sounded like a choked laugh. Dick gave him a suspicious look. "What?" he said warily. "If you think she’s going to dress and stuff something that size, you’re mad!" Swiftnick exclaimed, knowing better. "Besides...." "Besides what?" "It won't go on the spit." Dick pursed his lips at that and reluctantly lowered the musket. "I suppose that would be a bit of a waste," he admitted. "And it obviously belongs to someone," Swiftnick added eagerly, coaxing. "What makes you think that?" Dick demanded. "I think it’s wearing a harness...." Turpin raised an eyebrow at that and took another look at the creature. All right, maybe it was a reindeer. He remembered seeing a picture of one in one of the books Swiftnick had been burrowing through, which probably explained how his accomplice recognised it. And it did look at if it was wearing some kind of a harness; it was difficult to tell what with the hairy hide and all, but it seemed like it had some kind of red and green harness.... The reindeer tossed its head, making a jingling noise as it stamped its feet. Black Bess and Toby shrank further back and gave their riders identical looks that clearly said ‘do something’. "Maybe I can catch it...." Swiftnick murmured as he started to half tiptoe, half slither across the snow towards the beast. "It’ll probably bite or kick...." Dick said sourly. Swiftnick ignored him, fishing a half frozen carrot from his pocket to lure the reindeer towards him as he crept closer. The reindeer huffed and scrunched forward, snaffling the vegetable out of his hand.. Toby let out an indignant snort at seeing his titbit vanish and stamped his hooves in outrage at this betrayal by his rider. "I think he likes me!" Swiftnick crooned in delight as he managed to slide one hand into the red and green braided leather strap around the reindeer’s neck. Up close, he discovered that the reindeer was wearing a bridle decorated with little gold bells. The broken ends of a set of reins flopped around its hooves and he quickly scooped them up. Dick had gone over to the horses, holstered the Brown Bess and now stood watching his apprentice with folded arms. "Fine, you caught him. Now what are you going to do with him? You certainly can’t keep it as a pet..." Enchanted by being so close to such a rare, magical creature, Swiftnick looked up at him with shining eyes, oblivious to Turpin’s cynicism. "I think I’ll call him Prancer...."
The reindeer was amazingly placid; unlike Toby who led Swiftnick a merry dance when he attempted to mount up. Turpin eventually had to corner the recalcitrant bay against a tree with Black Bess before his apprentice could scramble aboard. Another five minutes were spent attempting to grab the reindeer’s reins. Finally, Dick had to dismount, grab the reins, hand them up to Swiftnick – narrowly avoiding getting bitten by both reindeer and horse in the process – and return to Black Bess, who showed a marked tendency to sidle away until he caught hold of her bridle and glared at her. At long last, they were able to head back to the cottage. The reindeer allowing Swiftnick to lead it back to their hideout by the broken reins, absently avoiding Toby’s efforts to kick it or sample its hide with a quick bite. Installed in the stable at the opposite end to the horses, it munched the hay spread out for its bedding and looked as if had decided to settle in permanently. Weighing the harness in one hand, Dick watched Swiftnick hand-feeding the creature while Toby glared resentfully and sighed. He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to let Swiftnick bring the animal back with him, but how could he avoid the pleading look in those big blue eyes as Swiftnick wheedled his agreement out of him? "This won't be for long," he warned futilely now, glancing over at where Black Bess and Toby were glaring at the reindeer with marked hostility. Both horses knew they had competition in their midst and neither appreciated the way it was stuffing itself with their fodder. "We can’t keep it, lad. We’re highwaymen. It’ll draw attention." "But it would have starved if we left it out there in the woods. It’s obviously someone’s pet." "Aye, I suppose," Dick sighed heavily. "This harness means it’s probably been taught to pull something...." "A sleigh!" Swiftnick exclaimed in delight. "I read that they do that where they come from..." "And only someone very rich and probably very stupid would bother to bring one here," Dick snorted, flicking a finger against a bell. It jingled prettily. "Gold bells...." he mused. "Now, who’d be daft enough to put real gold bells on an overgrown deer...."
Several hours later, Dick let Black Bess pick her own way over the snow thick ground then lengthen her stride back into a gentle trot towards home. Leaving Swiftnick to take care of his new pet and soothe Toby’s shattered nerves at having the thing take a snack out of his manger right under his nose, Turpin had decided to take a ride over to the pub in Hamdean for a quick pint and a bit of gossip. There hadn't been much gossip around; no fruitful coaches were to be had with the snow as deep as it was on the roads. Nor had anyone said anything about missing reindeer. Still, Dick had enjoyed his ale and his dinner and was on his way back to Swiftnick with a steak and ale pie for the lad’s supper. He was someone startled to hear someone hailing him and reined in, dropping one hand casually to his sword hilt as he peered cautiously around him. "Oh, I say, sir! I say, could you stop, sir, please?" The desperately importune note in the voice prevented Dick from riding on. It didn't sound like someone who wanted to lead him into a trap. It sounded more like someone who was busy freezing. Black Bess shifted restlessly, her hooves were cold and she was looking forward to getting back to her nice warm stable; even if she did have to share it with some four footed, funny smelling freak with a bush on its head. "Easy, girl," Turpin soothed softly "Oh, sir, over here, sir. Please! Could you help me?" Finally Dick spotted a green arm waiving desperately from among the snow covered bushes. Nudging the mare gently, he rode towards the sight. The way things were going, he half expected it to be an Elf, but instead it was a pale faced young man with a shock of black hair. He was elegantly dressed a dark green cloak over a fancy riding outfit, covered in snow and dirt and clutching a branch that he had obviously been leaning on for support. He took a hobbling step towards Turpin and then subsided weakly into the snow. "I say, sir, thank you so much for stopping. I thought I was doomed, completely doomed...." The young man exclaimed in a shaken voice as he shivered and hitched at his torn cloak, pulling himself together even as he drooped in exhaustion. "I came off my horse, you see. Silly thing to do. She shied...." "It happens," Dick said amiably. "You don't want to sit in the snow, you know. You’ll freeze. The stranger nodded. "Yes, yes, quite right. Need a bit of a rest though. I've been on foot for hours. Be fine when I get to the village, get a ride back to the Hall. I wonder, if I could impose....are you going to the village?" "I wasn't planning on it. I’m on my way back..." "Ah...." The young man somehow managed to droop even more. "I see, my apologies, sir. Didn't mean to inconvenience you. I had hoped a message....." Leaning on Black Bess’ neck, Dick raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You wanted me to take a message to the village for you?" "Someone could go up to the hall then, you see. Send out the carriage...." "It’d get stuck in the snow." "Ah, yes, I suppose. Still my horse should have got back by now. They’ll be looking for me. I don’t suppose it’s much further to the village?" "Depends which one you mean. You’re going to wrong way for Hamdean which is the nearest." "Oh...." A violent shiver shook the young man. "Well, if you could point me in the right direction I won’t keep you...." "Oh for crying out loud!" Dick laughed. He had taken a liking to this earnestly polite young man. "If I leave you out here, you’d freeze before anyone could find you. Come on, man, you can ride double with me. It’s not far to Hamdean Hall on horse back; twenty minutes or so. I take it that’s where you were going?" "Oh yes! I would be so grateful." "Not a problem," Dick said cheerfully, nudging Black Bess closer and offering the young man a hand. Heaving himself to his feet, he took Turpin’s proffered hand and with a struggle managed to haul himself astride behind him. "I seem to have done my ankle in when I fell," he explained rueful as Dick turned the mare about and set her off towards Hamdean Hall. Black Bess expressed her disapproval by stomping along, jolting her riders, until Dick sharply dug his heels into her sides in warning. "I could tell you’d done something," Turpin answered dryly. "Name’s Robin Turner." "Ah, Edmund Pennington. Lord Pennington’s my father." "I've heard of him," Dick murmured, nodding thoughtfully. Lord Pennington was a well known and amiably likable local eccentric. "He er collects things...." "Animals, sir, weird and wonderful animals," Edmund sighed. "That’s what I was doing out here in the woods. Lost one of the reindeer." "Reindeer?" Dick echoed in mingled surprise and relief. Lord Pennington of course! Who else would bell a reindeer?! "It’s a kind of deer," Edmund explained. "Big antlers. Quite friendly really. Got a harness on. My father has been training it to pull a sledge to treat the little ones in the village for Christmas. Worried someone might shoot it. Wretched creature frightened itself when the geese got out and ran off. Been looking for it for hours when he bolted out in front of me and frightened the horse...." "I might have seen it...." Dick said slowly. "Seen it? Have you? Where?" Edmund was so excited he nearly fell off. "Oh, around...." Turpin said cautiously. "I have to find it. I really must....Out here in the woods, poor thing...." "Since it comes from snowy lands, I should think it’d feel right at home," Dick muttered. "Yes, but I must find him, really...what if it’s hurt?" "Looked fine to me. Why don't we concentrate on getting you back home first?" Turpin said firmly, forestalling any efforts on Pennington’s part to make him start searching for the reindeer. "You need that ankle looked at...." "Oh, tosh. A bit of a rest and it’ll be fine....." "You’re not dressed for riding around in this weather," Turpin interrupted him sternly. He had had plenty of experience restraining youthful enthusiasm with Swiftnick. Pennington was hardly any challenge at all. "I’ll take you to the hall, then I really must be getting on my way." "Yes, but the reindeer. Where did you see it?" "It’ll be dark soon. You can’t go looking for it in the dark. Chances are it’ll find its own way home...." "Thing’s thick as two short planks. Not much chance of that. Still you’re right. It won't freeze. I could get another horse when I get back..." "It’s going to snow," Turpin told him flatly, casting a critical glance up at the grey sky overhead. "If you have any senses, you’ll stay put. Now, you’d better hold on. I don't want you falling off...." Waiting until Pennington had tightened his grip obediently, Dick nudged Black Bess into lengthening her stride over the frozen ground. He didn't fancy getting snowed in at Hamdean Hall or leaving Swiftnick to his own devices back at the cottage.
By the time Dick returned to the hideout, snow was falling fast in thick wet flakes that clung to his clothes and sooty eyelashes. Black Bess was so pleased to be back in her stable that she totally ignored the reindeer which had folded itself up on the ground and was peacefully chewing. Toby was dozing in his stall, but lifted his head when his stablemate returned, snorting in obvious complaint at being left alone with the strange creature. Making a point of giving both horses a carrot each, Dick gave the mare a quick rub down, tossed a blanket over her and hurried back to the cottage, slithering on an ice patch before he managed to make the safety of the doorway and duck inside. Swiftnick was waiting for him with an expression of relief and a mug of hot tea, having put the kettle on when he saw Dick ride up. He relieved his partner of his saddlebags ad Dick took a grateful mouthful of the hot liquid. "I was starting to think I was going to get snowed in on my own," he explained. "You’d have had the reindeer to eat anyway," Dick retorted as he sipped his tea and huddled up to the hearth, warming himself before the flames. "That isn’t funny. I've been starving waiting for you to come back." "Oh, I ate at the pub," Dick said innocently and grinned at the betrayed look Swiftnick gave him. "There’s a steak and ale pie in the saddlebags for you," he added cheerfully. Swiftnick brightened up and dug into the saddlebag. "What took you so long anyway?" "I found the owner of your reindeer wandering around in the woods and took him home," Dick went on to explain about Pennington, watching the quick flash of disappointment on the lad’s face. "You knew you couldn’t keep it," he reminded him gently. "Yes but, Lord Pennington isn't even an Elf," Swiftnick muttered. "All the same, we’ll have to take it back. I'm sure they’ll have a much better idea of how to take care of it than we do. And it’ll be back with the others." "Others?" Swiftnick looked up in surprise. "Apparently Pennington’s got a small herd of them," Dick took another sip of tea and ambled over to peer out of the grubby window at the flakes swirling down out of the dark sky.. "We’re probably going to get snowed in," Swiftnick suggested however. "We won’t be able to take it back and by the time we could, they’ll have forgotten about it." "So, it’ll be a nice surprise for them, won’t it," Turpin observed. "Looks like its going to be a cold night. You’d better put your blankets on my bed." "What?!" Swiftnick looked up, aghast. "You heard, put your blankets on my bed, no sense in both of us freezing." Turpin turned to go back to the fire and caught sight of the appalled expression on Swiftnick’s young face. "What is it now?" he asked impatiently as Swiftnick shot a look at his bed. "But...." Swiftnick stammered in feeble protest. "What?" Dick glared at him in exasperation then suddenly caught on. "Oh for.....you idiot! What kind of sadist do you take me for? We’ll share the bed, Swiftnick! I'm not going to make you freeze!" "Oh.... I knew that!" "Aye, right," Dick snorted as he reached for the teapot and another cup of tea. "Talk about blond moments...."
The following morning Dick emerged reluctantly from under the mound of blankets on the bed, glanced in exasperation at the blond curls peeping over the edge of the black sheepskin on the top that was all that could be seen of Swiftnick and sighed wearily. "Never again," he muttered darkly as he stirred the banked fire back to life and shoved the kettle on it hook back over the hearth. He had never noticed Swiftnick to be a restless sleeper, but perhaps it was the cold or the novelty of sharing a bed, but the lad had wriggled and twitched at first, frequently waking Turpin up. Tempted though he had been, Dick hadn't been cruel enough to sling him out of bed; besides when he did eventually settle down to curl up against Dick’s back,, it had been warmer than it would have been on his own. Slinging his cloak around his shoulders, Dick went to crack the door open and peer out. A trickle of snow slithered through the gap, making it hop away from its kiss on his bare toes. Outside, the world had turned to white and silver, glistening where the sun in a vivid blue sky sparkled off the snow crystals. The icicles that had formed along the eaves were already melting, dripping into their own little pits in the snow. Dick estimated that the snow fall during the night had only added an inch or two to what had already been on the ground and would give little difficulty to the horses. Cheered by the prospect of a ride and getting rid of the reindeer, Dick went back to make the tea as the kettle started to shriek for attention. Once he was dressed and had poured himself a cup of tea, Dick set about waking Swiftnick. This was no easy task, like most striplings Swiftnick liked his sleep. Pulling the blankets off his feet and tickling his toes had no effect except to make Swiftnick withdraw further under the blankets and curl up into a ball. Turpin contemplated this, then grabbed the blanket and ruthlessly stripped the whole lot off with one yank. Swiftnick woke up with a yell, staring at Turpin in astonishment. "What was that for?" he protested. "Remind me never to share a bed with you again," Dick told him sourly.. "It’s worse than sleeping with a live trout." Swiftnick glared at him, hugging his arms around his nightshirt clad body as he started to shiver. "You didn't have to wake me up to tell me that," he complained. Turpin snorted and tossed the blanket back over him. "Get up and make breakfast," he ordered briskly. "We’re riding over to take the deer back." "Reindeer," Swiftnick corrected automatically. "And I've been thinking about that...." "Now I’m worried," Dick muttered under his breath. "What?" "Never mind. What have you been thinking about?" Swiftnick frowned at him, certain Turpin had said something disparaging. He tucked the blanket around himself for warmth as he answered. "Well, we can’t take the reindeer back because you’d be recognised," he said smugly. "Would I? Why?" Dick asked, fascinated. "Well, it’s obvious. Lord Pennington is as rich as they come, so you must have robbed him. He’s bound to recognise you." Dick gazed into Swiftnick’s guileless blue eyes and grinned. "A good shot, lad, but you missed the target. I've never robbed Pennington. And I’d hardly have risked riding over to the hall with young Edmund if I’d thought it’d be dangerous, now would I?" "Oh, I never thought of that," Swiftnick’s face fell. "What, never?" "No, never." "But he’s rich," Swiftnick protested. "Why not?" "There are good reasons so don't you go getting get any ideas," Turpin replied sharply. "For one thing, Pennington’s a good man. Aye, I’ll give you that he’s a bit eccentric, but he’s harmless and generous with his money. He’s not greedy or cruel or power hungry the way Glutton is. Folks around here wouldn’t appreciate seeing him robbed. And another thing, Pennington makes a point of not carrying anything valuable and making sure he has at least two armed men with him if he does travel; both armed with blunderbusses and a pair of loaded pistols apiece. He also carries his own duelling pistols and he was known as a duellist in his day. Last time anyone held him up him, he killed him." "Who was it?" Swiftnick asked, awed that anyone would take a chance at such a hard target. Dick shrugged. "Who knows? Pennington blew the man’s face off. Can’t say as I’d risk it. Glory don’t feed you. You getting up?" "Can I have a cup of tea first?" Swiftnick wheedled. Turpin sighed heavily, but poured the lad a cup and handed it to him. "Hurry up and get dressed before you start breakfast," he urged. "I'm going to check on the horses." "Don’t forget to feed Prancer." Dick gave him an irritated look. "The horses are more important. A highwayman’s only as good as his horse...." "Prancer will be hungry too...It’s the least we can do before we take him back into slavery...." "Slavery?" Dick echoed. "Aye, pulling that sled...." "With the rest of a whole herd of the ruddy things..." Swiftnick gave him a hurt look. "He probably doesn’t get fed enough...." "All right, all right, I’ll feed the bloody coat rack...."
A couple of hours later, Black Bess glared at her rider irritably and breathed in, refusing to let Dick tighten her girth. "Oh come on," Dick urged plaintively. "The reindeer’s not my fault." The mare ignored him, her tail flicking around her hocks. Turpin growled and leaned his shoulder into her side, pressing in hard until Black Bess was forced to surrender and exhale. "Ah hah!" Triumphantly, Dick cinched the girth tight and patted the mare briskly. Black Bess did her best to step on his foot and the highwayman had to move fast to avoid getting crushed toes. "Dick?" Swiftnick called from outside. "What?" Dick retorted as he glared at his mare. "Toby let Swiftnick saddle him...." He told the horse. Black Bess merely laid her ears back, her snort indicating her disapproval of Toby’s tactics. "Could you come and hold Toby for me? He won’t let me get on." "Not again," Turpin groaned and stomped outside. Toby was standing as far away from Swiftnick as he could get, pulling away to the length of both arm and reins. Swiftnick was gazing at him miserably, attempting to coax him closer. A circle of trampled snow and mud showed where they had been circling each other as Swiftnick struggled to get on. As Dick emerged from the stable, Swiftnick slid a careful step closer. With equal deliberation Toby took a careful step backwards. The reindeer, tied to the cottage door so it couldn’t run off, shook its head with a jingle of belled harness and went back to nuzzling and pawing at the snow in search of something to eat. "That thing has been nothing but trouble since it got here," Dick growled, glaring at the beast. "It isn’t Prancer’s fault!" "Yes, it is! We never had any trouble with the horses until you took it in." "They don’t want us to take him back, that’s what it is. They’ll miss him." Dick gave his apprentice an incredulous look. "Toby’s done nothing but bite it!" "Only playful nips. Introducing himself like..." "I thought he’d turned into a vampire! The thing’s a menace. It has to go back. It’s decided. No arguments." "But Toby doesn’t want him to go...." "Swiftnick, Toby is jealous. The only reason he hasn’t bitten you is he hasn’t thought of it yet!" "Toby would never bite me," Swiftnick exclaimed, shocked at the idea. "Well, he certainly won't let you ride him." "Because he doesn’t want Prancer to go...." "What are you going to do then? Ride the reindeer?" Swiftnick flushed. The idea of making himself look that ridiculous was an affront to his youthful pride. "Course not..." he muttered. "I can walk...." "All the way to Hamdean Hall? Don't be daft!" Turpin folded his arms and shook his head. "As long as you keep that reindeer, Toby’s going to be jealous...." "He isn’t...." "You’re going to look bloody stupid holding up coaches on a reindeer. And I'm certainly not going to ride with you...." Swiftnick shot a quick anxious look at him. "So, either the reindeer goes, or Toby does." "Get rid of Toby?!" Swiftnick gasped in shock. Toby’s ears flickered and he snorted uncertainly. "Aye, if you keep the reindeer as a pet you’ll have to get another horse to ride that won't be jealous. You can probably sell Toby." "Get rid of Toby?" Swiftnick repeated in utter horror, looking at the big bay in anguish. "But I...I c’couldn’t...." "Toby or the reindeer. Your choice," Dick said flatly, hiding a grin behind his sour expression. He didn't think it was going to be much of a difficult decision. The reindeer was a new toy, Toby was a much loved friend. He also noted that Swiftnick hadn't even looked at the reindeer once he thought he might lose Toby. "Well?" Swiftnick hung his head. "I couldn’t get rid of Toby, I couldn’t...." "Didn’t think so," Dick said briskly, stepping forward to take the reins from his apprentice’s hand. "Come on, Toby, back up, lad...." Toby eyed him suspiciously, but it was his rider he was arguing with so he allowed Dick to back him up into a corner where he couldn’t retreat. Catching on, Swiftnick scurried around Dick and scrambled aboard. Realising he had been tricked, the bay gave Turpin a betrayed look as the highwayman hastily dodged a retaliatory nip. Leaving Toby to his efforts to buck Swiftnick off, Dick stamped back into the stable to get Black Bess. Untying her, he grasped her by the bridle and pulled her head down. "Now, Bess, we are going to take the reindeer to Hamdean Hall and leave it there. So, you are going to be a good girl and let me get on you without making me look like an idiot." Black Bess snorted her opinion of that, but she accepted the carrot he offered her and docilely let him lead her warily out of the stall. Dick swung into the saddle, ducking under the door lintel rather than face the struggle of mounting up when the mare was confronted with the reindeer. Toby was halfway across the yard, clearly ignoring Swiftnick’ efforts to steer him close enough to untie the reindeer. Black Bess shifted under Turpin, ignoring his signals long enough to make it clear she was obeying under protest, then walked over and let Turpin free the reindeer and take up the reins. "I think it’s best if I lead it," Dick said dryly, watching Toby’s straight legged bouncing stride that jolted Swiftnick half out of his saddle with every step. "Want to take a bet how long you’re going to stay on?" "I'm fine," Swiftnick hissed through gritted teeth, seriously worried about biting his tongue. "Will you please stop it, Toby? We’re taking Prancer home." Toby flung up his head and Swiftnick yelped, his eyes watering as he smacked his chin on the horse’s neck. Dick chuckled and turned Black Bess away from the cottage and out over the snowy ground, hauling the reluctant reindeer after him. Toby jolted after them, pretending to be a bad tempered carthorse with his uneven stride. "You want to change horses?" Dick suggested after a few minutes. "No...." Swiftnick growled. "Aw, come on Toby, you’ve made your point...." "You’re going to need lineament and a hot bath later then," Dick warned in amusement. Swiftnick gave him a murderous look and tightened his grip on the reins, practically clamping himself to the saddle as a jolting half hop nearly unseated him. "Toby, if you don't stop it I will sell you," he warned angrily. "And I’ll keep the reindeer...." Toby continued to jog along, ears flattened. "Right, that’s it then! Dick?" Swiftnick began. "I can get another horse at the blacksmith, can’t I?" Toby’s stride suddenly smoothed out into his normal easy pace, his ears flickering as he snorted, understanding the anger and determination in his rider’s voice and knowing he had pushed him too far. Dick grinned, glancing at them as Swiftnick urged Toby up alongside him; on the opposite side to the reindeer. "I think you’re going to have to make it up to him later," he said lightly. Swiftnick glared at him, feeling as if every bone in his body had been bruised. "I have one thing to say to you..." he retorted. "Oh aye? What’s that?" "We still don’t have anything for Christmas dinner...."
Hamdean Hall was an impressive redbrick Tudor mansion with a multitude of chimneys and a sprawl of surrounding building flocking around it like chicks round a hen. Knot gardens surviving from Tudor times in season normally boasted display of old fashioned flowers and herbs but now lay under a blanket of snow, lending a mysterious maze like air to the gardens. Feeling that they would look a bit out of place if they rode up the front door, Turpin led the way round to the stables at the back of the mansion, letting Black Bess pick her way daintily over the cobbles that had been swept clean of snow. It had been a slow journey, limited to the pace of the reindeer and his arm was aching from dragging the recalcitrant beast along, but there had been no way Toby would let Swiftnick take him anywhere near the animal to take his turn at leading it "Mr Turner!" Edmund Pennington’s cry met him as they trotted into the stableyard. "Prancer!" a lighter female cry echoed and a tiny little brunette in a dark green velvet dress flew across the cobbles to fling her arms around the reindeer’s neck. Far from attempting to bite her, the reindeer merely snorted and looked resigned. "Oh, do pull yourself together, Hermione!" Edmund exclaimed as he limped after her, leaning on a silver topped cane. "You’re embarrassing me in front of our guests." "Prancer?" Swiftnick echoed, gazing down at the diminutive Hermione. "That’s what I called him too...." "Really?!" Hermione lifted her head from the ruff of hair around Prancer’s neck and gazed up at him with huge luminous grey eyes. Swiftnick looked as stunned as if he had been hit with a wet snowball in the face. "Um...." he mumbled. "Save me," groaned Dick. Swiftnick was at the age where a pretty girl only had to look at him and he could be reduced to incoherent babbling for an hour. And if she smiled at him... Hermione smiled shyly and Swiftnick stared in awe..... "That’s it then. No chance of getting any sense out of you for the rest of the day," Dick growled in exasperation. "Mr Turner, you found him! I am so grateful!" Edmund had finally reached them as Dick dismounted and handed the reindeer’s rein to Hermione. She dimpled at him prettily, then turned her gaze back to Swiftnick. "Er...." Edmund blushed. "Hermione, this is....Hermione?!" He shot a helpless look at Turpin. "My apprentice, Nicholas," Dick sighed. "They appear to be of an age." "Er, yes, quite...." Pennington said feebly. Dick turned to Swiftnick with exaggerated patience. "Nick, you can get down now," he told him deliberately. Swiftnick caught the sarcastic note in his friend’s tone, flashed a quick look at him and blushed as he scrambled hastily to the ground and bowed to Hermione. She blushed too, absently petting the reindeer. "You brought him back," she cooed. "We found him in the woods," Swiftnick finally managed to find his voice. "I didn’t think anyone would be able to catch him...." "It was easy really," Swiftnick said smugly. "Would you like to see the others?" "Hermione...." Pennington protested feebly. Hermione ignored him. "You have more of them?" "Oh, we have a whole herd. They’re in the stables. Come and see. They’re right over here..." Hermione set off with a brisk swish of velvet skirts, towing the reindeer after her. Swiftnick followed as if he was the one on the lead rope rather than Prancer. Edmund turned to Turpin. "Would you like glass of mulled wine?" he said weakly. "I could do with one," Dick admitted, glaring in exasperation after his apprentice. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen when Swiftnick finally got around to doing something more than staring at girls. He had a feeling he was going to have regular nervous breakdowns about what the lad was up to behind his back. Edmund nodded. "Hermione isn’t usually so forward," he mumbled. Dick shot a quick look at him and smiled ruefully. "Mutual interest," he said dryly, adding hastily. "In reindeers...." Pennington grinned back at him. "As you said, they’re of an age. Still, they can’t make much mischief with looking at Prancer’s friends. Do come and have a drink with me. Perhaps a brandy will be more to your tastes?"
"Wasn’t she beautiful? I have never seen a girl so beautiful....Why she was...." "Beautiful?" Turpin suggested wryly. "Yes, yes, wasn’t she?" Riding home several hours later, Swiftnick was babbling happily about Hermione and her charms. Personally Dick thought she had been a sweet young thing, but he had seen far lovelier women; those who had more interest in him than a reindeer for example. An entire afternoon being led around the stables looking at a bunch of strange looking, noisy and above all smelly creatures and avoiding stepping in squish unidentified substances was not really Dick’s idea of fun. He’d far rather have been at the pub. "I think she liked me...." "She’d have liked anyone who liked Prancer," Dick told him. Flattened, Swiftnick drooped. Toby snorted, he and Black Bess at least were in a good mood once they had realised the dreaded reindeer was not coming back with them. "Swiftnick, she’s out of your reach and you know it." "I know. But she is beautiful...." "Yes," Dick agreed. "And she liked me a little bit, don’t you think?" Turpin glanced at his young friend and smiled at him affectionately. He had seen the way Hermione reacted to him and knew perfectly well her first interested reaction had been an honest one. "Yes, lad, she did," he said kindly. "But don’t you go getting any ideas." "No, Dick," Swiftnick smiled wistfully and slid off into a happy little daydream. With a soft snort of laughter, Dick patted Black Bess’ glossy neck and admired the fat goose strung over the mare’s neck. Lord Pennington hadn't been at home, but Edmund had been smart enough to realise that Turpin would have been insulted by an offer of coin reward. Instead he had pressed a fine, spit ready goose on him, a brace of pheasants along with a ham and bag full of an assortment of cheeses and sausages, plus a bottle of fine cognac. Mary would be delighted with their spoils. "We’ll swing by the Swan and drop this lot off with Mary before we go back to the cottage," Dick told Swiftnick briskly. Startled out of his reverie, Swiftnick gave him a blank look then looked down at the goose. "Can’t we stay at the pub?" he asked hopefully. "Too risky," Dick said firmly. "I know you want to be at home for Christmas, and we’ll ride over early Christmas morning like I promised, but there’s too much chance of being spotted if we hang around for a couple of days before. You don’t want Mary to have you getting hung as a present, now do you?" "No," Swiftnick sighed pensively, gazing at the goose. "Can I have some of the cognac then?" "No," Dick said automatically, then paused thoughtfully as Swiftnick slumped slightly. This was the first time the youth had been away from home at Christmas and every now and then, a little bit of sadness sneaked through his pretence that it didn't matter. "Ah well...." Dick murmured. "You can have some cognac if you want, lad. It can’t hurt and it is Christmas after all...."
In the quiet peaceful darkness, Dick felt Swiftnick stir amongst the heap of blankets and roll over, letting a draught of cold air sneak down the older man’s back. Last night, Swiftnick had drunk a whole glass of cognac and as a result had barely stirred all night. It was one way to keep him quiet while they shared a bed, but Dick wasn't sure he wanted to go to that much expense. It would be far easier to buy extra blankets... "Dick?" Swiftnick whispered. "Mmmh?" "Are you awake?" "No..." Dick growled. "But it’s Christmas morning...." "Not until it gets bloody light it isn’t. Go back to sleep...." "We’re going to ride to the Swan early you said." "Not this early! It’s still dark!" "But...." "No! Go to sleep!" There was a short pause then the bed jolted as Swiftnick flung himself back down and burrowed back under the blankets, muttering to himself as he lay stiff and resentful. After a while he fell silent, but Dick could tell he wasn’t going to go back to sleep and the thought of how young the lad was pricked at his conscience. It seemed cruel to crush his excited exuberance when this was his first Christmas away from home. How long had it been since Dick had felt that happy over anything so simple as Christmas? With a heavy sigh, he sat up and lit the bedside candle with flint and tinder then rolled onto his back and thumped the blankets down around him, cutting off the draught. "They’re under the bed," he said aloud. "Don’t care...." Swiftnick grumbled, paused then lifted his head to peer over his shoulder at him with a frown. "What are?" "Your Christmas presents," Dick told him. Swiftnick sat bolt upright, staring at Dick with enormous blue eyes, the candlelight gilding his hair with tints of burnished copper and gold. "You got me a present?" he exclaimed in awe. "Of course I ruddy did," Dick snorted, then yelped as Swiftnick dived out of bed, letting in a gust of freezing cold air. Dragging the blankets back around him, Dick huddled underneath, watching Swiftnick burrow amongst the dust under the bed and feeling a funny warm little glow inside him that had nothing to do with the warmth of the blankets. Swiftnick plumped down on the bed again, digging his bare feet back under the blankets and staring at the two string tied packages he had retrieved. Dick wasn’t much of a one for wrapping, but he’d made an effort and tucked a bit of holly in the knot of each. "Go on then, don’t sit and stare at them..." Dick urged, surprised by his own impatience. He wanted to see the look on his face and dreaded it at the same time. He wasn’t used to giving gifts any more. Needing no further urging, Swiftnick tore into the wrapping, ripping the first package apart and dragging out a pair of handsome black leather boots. "Dick!" he exclaimed in delight as he dragged on first one then the other. "Wow! They fit!" "They'd better," Dick snorted. "The cobbler in the village swore he made your last pair." "But these are much, much better!" "So they should be considering how much they cost me," Dick retorted. "How’d you know?" "What? That your boots leak? You’ve been complaining about them long enough." "Yes, but...." "Swiftnick, I know why you’ve been saving your money," Dick told him kindly and hastily forestalled the hug he could see coming, by adding, "Now open the other one...." Reminded of his second present, Swiftnick tore the softer package open with even greater enthusiasm, holding up first a new ruffled shirt, then a pair of fine black breeches and finally a black velvet coat with fine delicate silver embroidery. Watching the suspicious brightness in Swiftnick’s blue eyes, Dick frowned uneasily. "Don’t you like them?" he said uncertainly, then yelped as Swiftnick flung himself at him and practically throttled him with a hug. "I love them, Dick! I do! Thank you! I never had anything so fine!" "Aye, well, you’re a highwayman now. I can’t have Mary thinking I don’t look after you right like and taking you to see her looking scruffy. High time you were out of knee breeches too. Everything should fit. Mary took your measurements for me." "I thought she was going to make me a new shirt." "Ah well, now you know better. Now, stir up the fire before you put them on. It’s freezing in here. And don't think you can get out of making breakfast because it’s Christmas..."
In the warmth of the kitchen at the Black Swan, Dick sat at the well scrubbed table, drinking mulled wine and watching Mary teasing her son over the girls admiring him in his new finery. Swiftnick was bright eyed, bouncy and happy, apart from every now and then when he threw an anxious glance at the door. Dick knew what he was waiting for; Glenrae. The big Scotsman had promised to be there for Christmas and should be bringing Mary’s proper present from her son. Dick had given her a bolt of expensive silk that he had actually brought and Swiftnick had got her a fancy feathered hat and a real silk purse to match the silk. "More wine, Dick?" Mary asked as she came over to the highwayman, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Don't mind if I do," Dick held up his glass, manoeuvring it under the bottle so it didn't go all over the table as Swiftnick distracted her as she poured. "Nick, stop eating the biscuits! You won't want the goose." "But I'm hungry now," Swiftnick protested, nibbling the iced biscuit he had grabbed. "You’re always hungry," Turpin observed cheerfully. "We have to wait for Glenrae," Mary said firmly then let out a startled exclamation and rushed to the fire to rescue a pot before it boiled over. Swiftnick plumped down beside Dick and flicked a quick look at him. "He will come, won’t he?" he whispered anxiously. "He said he’ll be here, he’ll be here," Dick said mildly, happily ensconced in a warm glow of wine and comfort. "But the snow..." "He’s Scottish, lad, he’d be surprised if it didn't snow. Dinna fash yerself...." Swiftnick giggled at Dick’s Scottish accent and made the highwayman frown at him suspiciously. "How much wine have you had?" "A couple of glasses of the mulled stuff with the spices," Swiftnick answered brightly. "It’s all right, I'm allowed – special occasion...." Turpin opened his mouth to argue that, then shrugged. Swiftnick was unlikely to get drunk with Mary watching over him like a hawk. "Not too much," he warned. "You still have to steer Toby home and he’s probably still apt to buck you off into a snow drift...." "Couldn’t we stay here for the night? It’d only be one night after all, Dick....." Dick drew a deep breath, glimpsed the pleading look in his apprentice’s blue eyes and gave in with a sigh. "Oh, why not...." "Thanks!" with an excited yip, Swiftnick hugged the started highwayman then shot to his feet as the door banged open and a cloaked figure lurched in, his arms full of packages. Dick made a grab for his sword then subsided as he recognised Glenrae under the snowy cloak. "About time you got here, Robbie," he observed. "Nice to see ye too, Dick me boy." "Oh, you gave me a start," Mary exclaimed. "Sorry," Glenrae grinned at her. "Do ye nay have a drink for a far travelled mon? Hello, Swiftnick, laddie, my ye look fine in yer new feathers..." Swiftnick flashed a quick look at Turpin and then hurried to help Glenrae unload his packages, whispering to him urgently. Flinging back his hood, Glenrae beamed at the youth and put am arm around him in rough hug then reached for the glass of mulled wine Mary handed him. "Did ye ever doubt I’d be here?" he chuckled. "Swiftnick was starting to fret," Dick said amiably. "I didn't you’d make it what with all the snow," Swiftnick explained, eyeing the packages and looking anxiously at the Scotsman. "What snow? Ye mean that light...." "Foot deep!" Dick commented. "....sprinkling out there. Och, ‘tis nothing that. Here, ye go, laddie," Glenrae had shed his cloak and extracted a packet of papers from his jacket that was sealed with wax and string. Swiftnick clutched the packet to him and gave him a grateful look. "It was all right" "Yon Sassenach nay suspected a thing. Go on with ye now." "Aye, give it to her now...." Dick agreed, prompting his apprentice. Swiftnick nodded and turned to his mother, anxiously proffering the packet to her. "For you..." "For me? But, Nick, love, you gave me my gifts...." Swiftnick waved a hand. "This is special...." he told her urgently. "Please? Open it?" Baffled, but obedient Mary cut the cord with its seal and paused to look at the seal, a strange expression on her face. "This is Glutton’s seal," she said sharply. "Nick, what have you done?" "It’s all right, Mary," Dick said quietly. "Open it and find out..." Mary gave him and uncertain look and then turned back to Swiftnick. The expression in his blue eyes made her unfold the paper and spread it out on the table. She had never been much good at reading, but she could understand the gist of what the paper was saying. "The deed?" she stammered. "The deed for the Swan? B’but, how Nick, how....?" "Glenrae did it for me," Swiftnick explained. "It’s all been done proper," Glenrae rumbled. "All ye have to do is give me a coin and yer signature on it and the pub’s all yours. Yon Glutton sold it to me." Mary stared at him then turned back to Swiftnick in confusion. "You always wanted it, didn’t you?" Swiftnick said anxiously. "I remember when I was little, you and my father always talked about it. And my father went back to sea to get the money and, and.....You do want it, don’t you?" "He saved for it, Mary. Every last penny. Glenrae and I offered to help, but he wouldn't have it," Dick said quietly, adding sourly, "That’s why the young scruff had leaky boots." "And I blamed you for it, didn’t I?" Mary sniffled, then suddenly flung herself on her son, laughing, hugging and kissing and crying on him until Swiftnick squirmed free in embarrassment. "You didn't take any risks, did you?" she asked as she recovered her breath. "I wouldn't dare let him," Dick snorted. Mary looked at him steadily for a long moment, knowing that the money had to have come from their exploits on the road and finding that she simply didn't care. The Black Swan was hers at long, long last and she was finally safe from Glutton demanding every last shilling she had. Sniffled again. "Here, lassie, none of that now!" Glenrae suddenly put an arm around her and swung her briskly under the kissing ball, sweeping her up close for a deep kiss. "Oi!" Swiftnick yelped in shock, staring in alarm until Glenrae came up for air and released the dazed Mary. "Och, I've been looking forward to that. Kept me going on the road it did!" Glenrae chuckled, grinning at the blushing Mary. "You, she...you can’t.....!" Swiftnick spluttered in outrage. "Och, I can and I did. Ye’d nay begrudge me a kiss for my help in yer plan, would ye, laddie? A kiss to seal yon bargain." "Yes, but, no, but...." Turpin chuckled as he came to his feet and came up behind Mary, sliding his own arms around her trim waist and drawing her back against him. "My turn, Mary love," he said softly. Gazing into his chestnut brown eyes, Mary grinned and surrendered to his embrace, melting into his kiss with genuine pleasure. "Stop it!" Swiftnick yelled indignantly, practically dancing in fury. Glenrae looked somewhat put out as well and glared at Turpin as he gently released Mary. "Well now," Mary said breathlessly, straightening her apron as she recovered her poise. Her eyes were shining above her pink cheeks. "You, he...." Swiftnick babbled. "Oh, do stop fussing, Nick," Mary told him firmly. "A coin and a signature was it, Glenrae?" "Aye, lassie..." "How could you?" Swiftnick turned on Turpin. "What’s wrong, lad? Jealous?" Dick chuckled and cheerfully grabbed him, yanking the youth under the kissing ball. "Don't you dare! Don't you lay a lip on me!" Swiftnick howled, struggling furiously as he was bent backwards. "Dick!" "Hush," Dick laughed and landed a smacking kiss on Swiftnick forehead, ruffling his hair into a froth of curls before he let Swiftnick claw his way free of his arms. "Ew!" Swiftnick yelled, scrubbing furiously at his forehead. His brown eyes glowing with amber fires of amusement, Dick settled back into his sat and lifted his glass, toasting his young partner with the wine. Swiftnick glared at him, but a reluctant laugh escaped him as Turpin winked at him. "Glenrae, did you bring the box?" "Aye, laddie. ‘'Tis that one there...." Glenrae pointed out a scruffy looking box and Swiftnick pounced on it, setting it down in front of Turpin. "It’s your present...." "Lovely," Dick observed, eyeing the scratched, worn box doubtfully. "You have to open it!" Swiftnick urged. Dick gave him a dubious look but picked up the key on its tatty bit of string and with an effort managed to turn it in the rusty lock without snapping off the haft in the process. Inside on a bed of worn and threadbare, ancient velvet was a pistol that had been lovingly cleaned and treasured. The barrel was of a dark, glowing wood, the plates of shining silver glowing softly in the candlelight were engraved with beautifully scrolling leaves and flowers and the butt was inlaid with a strip of mother of pearl. Stunned Dick looked from the pistol to Swiftnick and then back again, caressing that alluring strip of mother of pearl with one fingertip before he picked it up with trembling fingers. It slipped into his hand as if it had been made for him; perfectly balanced. "Is it all right?" Swiftnick asked anxiously. Dick made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. "It looked really awful when I found it at the gunsmith in Hamdean. He said it’d belonged to the Black Fox. I didn’t believe him, but I thought it’d clean up nice....it fires straight...Dick? Say something?" Dick looked up into Swiftnick’s anxious eyes and carefully laid the weapon back down in its worn box. "Swiftnick, come here..." he said sternly as he rose to his feet. Anxious and uncertain, Swiftnick slid up to him. Turpin placed a solemn hand on his shoulder. "There’s only one thing that is more precious to me than that pistol, Swiftnick. And that’s you, my lad. I adore it." He said steadily and wrapped an arm around the youth's neck, hugging him to him fiercely and hoping that the sharp sting in his eyes wouldn't spill over into tears and embarrass him. Hugging him back, Swiftnick’s snuffles were broken by a fit of the giggles as Glenrae poked him in the back and pulled him away to present him with his gift. "As long as it isn't a kilt," Swiftnick exclaimed as he ripped it open, shooting a happy glance at Dick. Turpin smiled back as he sat down again, idly caressing the pistol and feeling that strange sense of peaceful warmth creeping over him again. A huge indulgent grin swept over his face as with a whoop of glee Swiftnick held up the vivid blue, silver embroidered waistcoat Glenrae had brought him to go with his new coat and started hastily started to strip off the coat so he could put it on and show off his finery.
An hour later, Dick sprawled lazily back in his chair, his feet up on the grate and practically toasting in the fire. Mary was laying the table with Swiftnick’s hindrance and Glenrae had been carving the roast goose. Now he came over and leaned on the back of Dick’s chair, gazing over the top of his friend’s dark hair into the fire. "Yer looking a mite pensive there, laddie," he said quietly. "I feel...." Dick waved one hand, unable to describe the warm fuzzy feeling he had. He wasn't that drunk, he was sure. "Content?" Glenrae suggested softly. "Aye, I think that’d be it. It’s been a long time, Robbie." "Swiftnick’s been good for ye....He expects the best of ye even when yer being a sour curmudgeon." "A curmudgeon, am I?" "Aye at times. Do ye deny it?" "No," Dick admitted ruefully, studying the depths of his glass and changing the subject. "Did you see that pistol?" "Ye’ve showed it to me several times, laddie. I’ll admit to being a mite jealous..." Glenrae commented, reaching down to pat Dick’s shoulder. "Ye deserve it, Dick." "What? The pistol?" "No, letting Swiftnick wake ye up again. I was afraid we’d lose ye...." Dick half turned in his seat to look up at him. "Was I getting so sour?" "Ye were forgetting there was more than revenge to be had," Glenrae told him. "Yer no pleasant when yer feeling bitter." Turpin twisted around to look up at him. "My thanks for putting up with me then," he said dryly. "Och, I'm used to ye and do ye nay ken by now I’d stick by ye whatever ye did? Yer laddie there will do the same for ye. And I'm glad ye got him a present." "He’d have sulked if I hadn’t," Turpin retorted. Glenrae merely smiled knowingly at him and after a moment, Dick grinned back at him. "Oh all right, I wanted to see the look on his face," he admitted. "It was worth it...." "Och, soft as butter ye are," Glenrae chuckled "You were happy with the watch I gave you," Dick reminded him. "Don't let Mary see that brazen hussy inside the lid though...." "That’s art, laddie, art...." Glenrae answered as Mary called them to the table where Swiftnick already had a mouthful of goose and had had his hand smacked with the gravy ladle. "I think you’re missing a T off that," Dick snorted as he pushed lazily to his feet. Glenrae draped an arm across his shoulder. "Och, my wee Sassenach friend," he chuckled amiably. "Ye have no appreciation of the finer things...." "Apart from wine, women and song? I’ll appreciate that brandy you got me..." "I intend to share that with ye," Glenrae assured him. "And the new wool cloak is exactly what I need...." "Och, yer last one was getting wee bit scruffy and I canna have a scruffy highwayman for a friend. I ken ye were busy buying for yer laddie instead of yerself..." "I forgot," Dick admitted. "But the wig, Glenrae, why a wig?" "Och, do ye nay ken the one ye wear now look like ye left the sheep in it? You dinna have to powder and comb it so much as feed it....T’was moulting, laddie."" Dick laughed. "Point taken." He agreed as the youth came to shoo them to the table. "Hello, lad, goose more to your liking than reindeer is it?" "Tastes better," Swiftnick grinned back, eyes bright with excitement. Dick smiled back at him and draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him between himself and Glenrae. Chuckling, the Scotsman put his own arm around the youth and between them, they hugged the startled Swiftnick until he squeaked and wriggled free. Following him over to the table, Dick lifted the glass he was still holding. "To love, life and the pursuit of coaches!" he chuckled. "To Mary and the Black Swan," Glenrae answered. "And to you, Dick, and to young Swiftnick. Long may you ride together..." "And to friendship," Dick answered, feeling a surge of festive spirit. He glanced at Swiftnick as his partner stood beside him and grinned indulgently at him, unable to resist giving him a quick hug and as Swiftnick happily hugged him back, feeling the return of the warm fuzzy feeling. It was a feeling he could get to like, Dick decided somewhat drunkenly. The rarity of friendship, of having someone he could trust and rely on, was a thing he had learned to do without for too long and now that he had Swiftnick’s companionship he was reluctant to lose it. The lad was a good friend for all his youth and Dick was going to do his best to remember that and treasure him as the precious friend and partner he was to him.
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