The Last Suitor. A J McMahon
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three days ago. ‘Who’s Mr Nicholas Raspero, Jolly?’ she asked.
‘That’s what I want to know,’ Jolly said. He said nothing more and she knew him well enough to say nothing more herself.
A boy came running into the square waving. Tagalong and Leggit and his men sprung into action. Some of the spectators worked for Jolly, some were genuine passersby, but all were about to become an audience.
Tagalong started waving his wand and shouting at Leggit. Leggit and his men were gathered threateningly around him, wands out, shouting at Tagalong. Leggit and his men took Tagalong’s wand and forced him to his knees. People were starting to look over at them, stopping what they were doing, drawing away to form a space that was like an impromptu stage. The audience had gone quiet. It occurred to Angela then that this was very like a play, and she examined the performances of the main players with a critical eye. They weren’t doing badly for beginners, she thought.
A man walked into the square, his hand on the hilt of his wand, and stopped on seeing all the commotion.
‘That’s Raspero, boss,’ Pacey “Pay” Yorath said quietly from where he was standing before the neighbouring window.
Angela considered the new arrival. The first thing she thought was that Jolly would not choose him to be one of her clients. He obviously had no money. His robe was shabby and his boots were old and he wore no ornaments. He looked like he didn’t even have a watch in his pocket. He was not a man she would normally look at twice, but seeing that Jolly was focused on Raspero to the exclusion of all else she looked again at the newly-arrived stranger standing on the other side of the market-square.
Jolly had guessed that the stranger who had robbed his men must have arrived in New Landern only recently as a wandfighter who was that talented would have drawn attention to himself before now. He had used his contacts at the Post Office to identify every recently registered male recipient of mail in New Landern. He started with the most recent and those who lived in the general direction of where the would-be victims of robbery had been heading. He sent his five men separately to view all the gentlemen whose names had come to light. This strategy had proved immediately successful, and by the end of the first day of his search Jolly knew the name of his man: Mr Nicholas Raspero.
The day after that Ben had been given by an acquaintance at the law courts two free luncheon vouchers at the Hortense Inn for 12 PM on Thursday 5 May but being unable to use them he had given them both to Nicholas, who for his part had wandered along to the Hortense Inn at the time specified. He had arrived at the square where the Hortense Inn was located to find a gentleman being attacked by an armed gang.
‘What’s going on?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Get lost, you mongrel!’ Leggit snarled at him. ‘This ain’t none of your business!’
‘As the author of a public spectacle, you have forfeited the right to the privacy you claim,’ Nicholas told him. ‘This is as much my business as I choose it to be. So, what’s going on?’ Nicholas had an amused look on his face, as if attracting the attention of street thugs had its entertaining side.
‘Shut your face!’ Leggit snarled at him.
‘I am afraid I must persist in my enquiries despite the eloquence with which you attempt to persuade me to do quite otherwise,’ Nicholas said, looking as amused as ever. ‘So, I repeat, what’s going on?’
‘I’ve had it with you,’ Leggit shouted angrily. Jolly’s instructions had been clear: take Raspero down and bring him bound and gagged to Jolly and he got five hundred strada in cash as a bonus to his pay on the spot, his men got one hundred each. They were among the best wandfighters in Jolly’s employ. If they couldn’t take Raspero down, then Jolly wanted to know about it. If they did take him down, well, Jolly’s eyes glinted at the prospect of having a long and very private talk with the man who had robbed his men, which meant that he had robbed Jolly. No-one crossed Jolly. No-one! If Raspero had handed his men over to the constabulary, fair enough, it was done, but to rob his men was a direct affront to Jolly.
Leggit and his men let go of Tagalong, who as agreed stood up groaning and stretching so that he came between Leggit and Raspero, blocking Raspero’s line of sight; Leggit’s men attacked Raspero instantly, Leggit coming for Raspero around the side of Tagalong. Except Nicholas was no longer where he had been standing. He was rolling to his left, sweeping the furthest man to his left off his feet and sending him flying into the next man along. As Nicholas rolled to his feet he already had that man’s wand in his hand. Leggit’s wand followed soon after as Nicholas soared over him, landing and crouching and spinning on his feet in one smooth motion that sent the now wandless Leggit flying into one of his men turning towards Raspero. One after the other Nicholas took them down, taking their wands and binding and tying them with their own mobile karns. His movements seemed effortless, and blended into each other in one continuous sequence of motions that were almost like a dance. Forty seconds after the fight began, Nicholas was standing over Leggit and his men, bound on the ground, their wands in his hand.
‘He’s as good as they say,’ Pay commented, looking over at Jolly.
Jolly turned away from the window. ‘Angela, you come see me nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘Yes, Jolly,’ Angela said obediently, her thoughts already turning back to the emerald bracelet. She would guess as much as seven thousand strada, but that was only a guess.
FOUR
The Introduction of Mr Nicholas Raspero
to Lady Isabel Grangeshield
12:00 PM, Thursday 5 May 1544 A.F.
Nicholas surveyed the battlefield as his grandfather had taught him to do in order to check whether everything was now as indeed over as it appeared to be — all six wands of his beaten and bound opponents clasped in his left hand, his right hand still bearing his wand in combat readiness. Everyone present in the square was staring at him with their mouths hanging open; Nicholas ignored them with a patrician disdain as the way they all stared at him and stared and stared and stared showed them to all be creatures clinging to a lower rung of creation.
Leggit and his men awaited events, not fearful of consequences as they were under Jolly’s protection, their only complaint being the loss of the bonuses they would have gained had they defeated Nicholas.
Tagalong held himself at the ready, his mind turning around itself like a complicated machine, waiting his moment to speak, following the progress of Nicholas’s thoughts as they were reflected on his face.
When he saw that Nicholas was thinking about wrapping everything up so he could move on, Tagalong said to him, ‘I cannot thank you enough, sir, for the assistance which you have rendered me today. May I have the honour of knowing your name?’
‘Introductions are by third party,’ Nicholas told him curtly and turned away.
Tagalong was nothing if not inventive. ‘Sir, I demand satisfaction!’
Nicholas turned back with a look of surprise. ‘What is the offence?’
‘You have refused to tell me your name in a situation which over-rides the bonds of courtesy. I am Mr Taggart Longman, and I demand satisfaction for this offence.’
Nicholas sighed in exasperation. ‘I am Mr Nicholas Raspero and I accept your challenge. What form of duel do you choose?’
‘First Combat.’
‘When and where?’
‘Here and now.’
‘Hang on!’ Leggit said angrily. ‘What about us?’ Leggit’s point seemed to be that as he and his men were bound hand and foot and lying on the ground, their predicament took priority over all else, including this duel.
‘What about you?’ asked Nicholas indifferently.
‘You gonna untie us or what?’ Leggit wanted to know.
‘Do you plan to resume hostilities upon regaining your freedom?’