Free Revolution by Edward Cline Page A

combat.
    Hugh turned and walked his mount up to the toppled ex-burgess, his sword blade resting lightly on a shoulder. He looked contemptuously down at the sputtering, shocked older man. “Shall we continue this, sir?” he asked.
    “You may go to hell!” replied the wild-eyed Chiswell, now hatless, his wig askew, and his scabbard bent in half. He looked very foolish, and knewit. He searched for his hat, and found that he was sitting on it.
    Nathaniel Walthoe, scandalized and angry, trotted up to the pair. He offered his bailiff a hand to help him up, but the man slapped it away with his crumpled hat. Walthoe then commanded, “Sir, please recover your horse and sword! You have besmirched the lawfulness of our purpose here!”
    “You can go to hell, as well, sir!” spat Chiswell.
    Sheriff Tippet and George Roane quickly strode up to the group. Tippet addressed Hugh. “Sir, do you wish to charge this gentleman with assault? Witnesses to his action there are aplenty!”
    Hugh narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Yes, this time, and I — ”
    Walthoe interjected hastily, “You cannot charge Mr. Chiswell with any offense, sirs! He is on Crown business! But, I will vouch for the wrongness of his action, and promise that he will be reprimanded.” He paused, then added, reluctantly, “I, too, was a witness.”
    “This
regicide
was obstructing our way!” shouted Chiswell, picking himself up from the ground and waving his hat at Hugh. “It was my duty as bailiff to move him out of it!”
    “That is not what we saw — ” began Tippet.
    “Never mind what
you
saw! It’s what
I
saw that counts!” He turned and looked up at Walthoe. “You, sir, must vouch for
me
that this…creature was obstructing our way! He was obstructing officers of the law in the performance of their duty!”
    “No, sir,” answered Hugh. “I was questioning the propriety of tyranny.”
    Chiswell cursed again and shook a fist at Hugh.
    Walthoe laid his riding crop on the man’s shoulder and spoke with angry impatience. “Mr. Chiswell, I am a moment away from remanding you to the mercies of this county’s justice! You have already forfeited your fee for this service! Kindly reclaim your horse and accompany me back to Williamsburg!”
    Chiswell looked up at the deputy King’s Attorney and saw that Walthoe meant it. He straightened his wig, put on his hat, and retrieved first his sword, then his horse, which had stopped to water itself at a trough outside the King’s Arms Tavern a way down the street. He mounted it and trotted past Walthoe and the waiting wagon in the direction of the Hove Stream bridge and the road back to Williamsburg.
    Walthoe motioned the wagon to follow him and rode on.
    Tippet chuckled and remarked to him as he passed, “Next time, Mr. Walthoe, choose an abler bailiff!”
    The deputy King’s Attorney said nothing and passed by.
    Hugh turned his mount around to watch the party leave. He saw Jack Frake and John Proudlocks, also mounted, staring at him from across the street. Jack Frake then saluted him with his tricorn, as did Proudlocks. Hugh smiled, returned the salute, and without flourish sheathed his sword.
    Sheriff Tippet shook his head and said to Hugh, “Pardon me for saying this, Mr. Kenrick, but you had no authority to interrogate Mr. Walthoe. I already asked him some of those questions.”
    “Yes, I had, Mr. Tippet,” replied Hugh. “This gave me the authority.” He tapped his forehead with a finger.
    “Well,” conceded Tippet, “
I
could not stand in the way of the Crown.”
    Hugh dismounted, hitched his horse to the post outside of Barret’s shop, and entered the place. He found Wendel Barret railing in a fit of boiling rage at Jack Frake, Proudlocks, and the other men who crowded into the shop. The printer’s face was red, his eyes flashed, and his hands shook uncontrollably. “They have robbed me of my joy!” he proclaimed. “I am nothing without my press!” He patted one side of the press. “Now