Free The Ravens of Falkenau & Other Stories by Jo Graham Page A

separate them. She thought the ladies looked like peacocks too. She wondered if they’d have a fight and throw their big hats at each other. Or maybe there would be a duel. That might be interesting.
    Someone was coming across the lawn semi-furtively, looking back as though he didn’t want to be seen. It was a young man with long black hair pulled back in a tail, a dark blue coat and buff pants, with a black sling holding his left arm. He stopped under the tree and sat down with his back against it.
    Victory leaned down to see what he was up to.
    Stealthily, he pulled a book out of his pocket and opened it, settling back against the tree trunk.
    Victory threw a chunk of bread at him. It bounced off his head and landed on the book.
    He looked up. “Strange birds in this tree,” he said, smiling.
    “Tweet,” said Victory.
    “What are you doing up there?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “Nothing. What are you reading?”
    He closed the book with one hand. The other was still in the sling. “In the Year 2440. It’s about a man who travels 600 years in to the future and what he finds there.”
    “Is it yours?” she asked, sitting up on the branch.
    “It belongs to your father,” he said. “I didn’t think he’d mind if I borrowed it for a few minutes. I’ve read it before, and I wanted to come back to it like an old friend.”
    “What happened to your book?” she asked.
    “I lost it somewhere or other,” he said. “You could come down out of the tree.”
    Victory considered and then climbed down. “What happened to your arm?” she asked, sitting down on the grass.
    “I was shot.”
    She thought he had a very nice face, even though his legs were sort of too long for the rest of him. “Did it hurt?”
    “It hurt awfully at first,” he said. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore. When you’re a soldier you have to get used to things like that.”
    “Are you a soldier?”
    “I’m a captain,” he said. “In the Hussars. But I’m detached right now.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Is this a parlor game? Honoré-Charles Reille. And yours?”
    “Victory,” she said. “Have you had lots of adventures?”
    “Some.” He put the book down on the grass and stretched his legs out in the shade, leaning back against the tree. “I got to carry a secret message into a besieged city. That was an adventure.”
    “Tell me about it,” she said. “That sounds fun.”
    He put his hat on the grass and ran his hands through his hair. “General Bonaparte knew that your father was holding the city of Genoa. You’ve heard about that?”
    She nodded.
    “And so he decided to bring lots of troops and beat the Austrians while they were all camped around Genoa watching your father and not watching their backs. But he knew that there was no way that your father could know what he was up to, and that help was on the way. So he ordered me to sneak into Genoa and tell him.”
    Victory sat up very straight. “How did you do that?”
    “I snuck past the British fleet at night on a smuggling boat. It was painted black and it was hard to see against the water. The smugglers got me in as close as they could, and then I took off my coat and my hat and my sword, and climbed overboard into the black water.” He paused for a breath, and grinned at her. “I’m a good swimmer because I grew up swimming all the time at home, so I swam very quietly past the British ships and they never saw me. When I got to shore, I went to your father and told him the secret message. That he was supposed to hold until 12 Prairial, and then after that he could make terms with the Austrians, but that he had to hold them there until 12 Prairial.”
    Victory hugged her knees up to her chin. “What happened then?”
    “Then I was inside the besieged city with your father. And it was a long fight. We didn’t have much to eat, and the Austrians kept attacking. And we kept pushing them back. 12 Prairial came, and we didn’t have any more news. So your