The Meeting

May 5^th, 1695, Epsom Downs Racecourse, England

The Duke of Surrey wished he had chosen otherwise. He wished he had forced Coleman, his stable master to get Raymar ready for racing. But as it turned out he had chosen what in horse peoples’ view was ‘the wise way,’ to wait for his four year old to become older and stronger and more capable of carrying his rider across a four-and-a-half mile heat, instead of breaking his spirit with a loss when he was ill-prepared to race.

While this might have been the right choice regarding Raymar it left the Duke with an unquenchable thirst to ride in the races. He had no other horse left to race for his old favourite Renegade had gone lame. While watching the race was by no means boring, for one still alive with the energy of youth, it was not in the least comparable to the thrill of galloping down the homestretch with the wind blowing in your face and the sound of thundering hooves filling your ears.

Having just returned from a diplomatic mission to France three days ago, the Duke had been hoping to have a livelier few days back at home which would help him recuperate from the boredom of travelling by sea.

However as the last event came to begin, something happened to considerably liven up the day.

A footman approached the Duke who was seated on a cushioned elm chair, on the stage under the shade of a tent which had been constructed specifically to seat the gentleman and nobles. “Your Grace, a message for you.’ The footman said, holding out a crisply folded piece of parchment.

With an air of nonchalance Ryan took it from the footman, barely casting him a glance. Unfurling it the Duke read. ‘Meet me in the smaller paddock behind the stabling yard, just as the Grand Ball begins.’ The writing was delicately curved and beautiful, one which Ryan vaguely remembered but was unable to place who it belonged to.

Utterly beguiled he searched round for a signature or any suggestion as to who might be its sender but found none except: Your horse trader friend.

Feeling only more puzzled he twisted round in his seat to face the footman. ‘Who gave you this message?’

‘A servant boy,’ the footman replied. ‘Saith his master wanted only His Grace, The Duke of Surrey to read it.’

‘And where is this servant boy? I wish to know of his master.’ Ryan said.

‘The lad left the race grounds shortly after he gave me the message.’

‘Where to?’ The Duke snapped with the air of a man with very little time.

‘I am afraid I have no idea, Your Grace.’

‘Will you be able to track him?’ Ryan said, raising his eyebrows at the footman.

‘Mayhap, Your Grace, but it will take a while for me to locate him.’ The man said truthfully.

Damn it, the Duke thought. Crumpling up the piece of paper he roughly handed it over to the footman and gestured him to leave. The Grand Ball was to start after the final event, and the competitors were already on the track, prancing and jigging their way to the starting line. He could as well meet his mysterious caller rather than wait for the servant boy to track him down. The latter would definitely take more time than the first option, and he wasn’t in a patient mood today.

The starter raised the flag as the five, fine specimens of horseflesh lined up. Each were obviously descended from Turkish or Arabian bloodlines, though only Jade was a pure Arabian. As the flag came down the five burst forth, nostrils flared and hooves pounding the ground in a frenzy.

Although he had heard a lot about the horses now running and had wanted to inspect their performance, Ryan’s mind was now occupied with other thoughts. The fact that his mysterious caller was a horse trader didn’t imply much; there were many who traded in horses. And yet he knew that handwriting from long ago, but he couldn’t recollect who its owner was.

What interested him the most, however, was the fact that this man wished to meet him in a secluded little paddock behind the stables, when it would be as good as dark. No doubt he wished this meeting to be carried out in secrecy, unless it was a prank, but why? Ryan didn’t intend to leave that puzzle unsolved.

When he turned his attention back to the race he found it was nearing its end. The Earl of Sunderland’s Romulus had taken the lead, his nose to the ground and foam brewing at his mouth. Clods of dirt were turned to projectiles as the other horses, led by Jade attempted to chase the leggy chestnut. Romulus was running as if the devil were chasing him, every sinew in his body straining to go faster as he grunted with the effort of each stride.

He flew past the finish line of the four mile heat with lengths to spare, his coat gleaming with sweat and neck flecked with lather.

Knowing the race to be over, the crowd of aristocrats inside the tent, after a lot of cheering arose, eager to stretch their stiff legs. Even though Ryan was not particularly tall, he stood out against the rest of the crowd. He was a man of extraordinary good looks, with piercing black eyes and chiselled features, which were only marred by the thin scar that ran above his left eye.

Being the Duke of Surrey he was of primary importance among the crowds, but after a while of light social banter managed to excuse himself saying that he had had a long and tiring journey. The sky had darkened considerably by then. Pretending to be returning to the inn for a short break, he doubled back and made his way to the paddocks behind the yard. In some of these were filled sleek, finely bred equine specimens; however the smallest of them seemed empty.

One end of this paddock was overgrown with poplar trees, the other empty. Although the sun was setting, Ryan thought what a fool he would look like if he was to be spotted by anyone. Thankfully, most of the grooms were busying themselves round their masters’ horses in the front rows of the yard, and so no one was left in the back to watch him. If it hadn’t been for the sake of curiosity and that feeling of recklessness in him, the Duke would be nowhere near here today.

However, just as his temper was beginning to reach its brim and he was contemplating to leave, he spotted movement within the poplars. A man detached himself from the shadows with the silence of a cat. He had rich brown eyes and olive skin pulled tight over a pronounced jaw. He was dressed in the English way, with a blue coat and lighter, knee length breeches. But what in Ryan’s opinion set him apart and made him resemble a cat were his striking green eyes.

“Asil!” the Duke breathed trying to control his surprise at meeting someone he had probably never presumed to see again.

“Your Grace, I can’t say how much of a pleasure it is to meet you after so long.” The Turk said bowing.

‘I could say the same, though to speak frankly, it stuns me to see you in England. Since your departure two years ago I never thought we would be meeting again.’ Memories of his old acquaintance slowly flooded back into his mind. He had shared many things with Asil in the past. He was pleased to see him, but then he also knew how temperamental the Turk could get. One minute he might be nice company the next brooding.

“Ah, my returning to England....’ Asil said thoughtfully. “That is a long story. Anyway, what matters is that I have been keen to meet you ever since my arrival. As I heard you were returning from France I waited. After that, it was obvious you would come here, knowing your love of the sport.” Asil had a slight smile.

“Well, I can’t deny you know me well, but the location...’ Ryan said looking about with mild interest. “If it were to make some deals about horses, why not in public? And what of all the secrecy? Could you not have approached me earlier?’

“Now, Your Grace, it was something of importance, which I did not wish to fall to prying ears. Something which I have wanted to discuss since a long time, with you, only.”

“Then get on with it, for you see, I have to catch up on a month of gossip in the ball. Paltry though it may be, there can always be jewels found in midden, and I generally do not like to leave them.’ The Duke said, some of his old briskness returning after the initial pleasant surprise of seeing his old acquaintance again.

The Turk backed into the trees and gestured for the Duke to follow. ‘It is better we have the solitude of the grove, Your Grace, to discuss this issue.’

Rolling his eyes and feeling rather miffed for seldom few could see them or would attempt to eavesdrop on them, the Duke followed Asil into the shadows of the grove. Despite his impatience his curiosity was getting the better of him.

‘As you know, I am here as a horse trader, just like the last time. My earlier trip here served merely as a starter, to acquaint myself with the unfamiliar land and culture. Ever since I left two years ago, I have had time to formulate a plan and make use of the information I had collected. This time I have been able to slip in twenty of my most skilled fighters from Turkey as my faithful grooms, taking loving care of my fine stallions of the likeness very few Englanders have seen earlier.’

Yanking off his heavy wig to reveal unruly black hair Ryan said. ‘One would think you are planning something big. And talking of horses, you make it sound like you have gotten these noble steeds down from heaven.’

‘Well,’ the Turk said giving off a hint of not having enjoyed the Duke’s sharp comment. ‘Anyway, you are right in some ways. I am here for something I have dreamt off since no less than the past ten years.’

‘My, my,’ Ryan said in a tone of mock surprise. ‘What is that?’

‘Retribution, in short.’ Asil replied grimly. Although it was difficult to see his face in the dark, his green eyes seemed to have come alive with a strange sort of malice.

‘I see,’ Ryan said. Now that he was starting to understand the reason he was being detained from the ball and what was coming next, he might have as well made a few cutting comments to get away. But knowing how much this meant to Asil, he withheld them. ‘Let me guess; against Colonel Robert Byerley of the Sixth Dragoon Guards.’

‘Yes, him,’ Asil said in a voice filled with venom.

Ryan knew from all the time he had spent with Asil that he hated the Colonel more than anyone in the world. He understood the lust for revenge, but he also knew that trying to take it could prove to be foolhardy. Slowly and testily he said. ‘You have come to meet me to ask for help in this venture of yours?’

‘Yes. I need information about Byerley’s whereabouts. Something which you can give me easily.’

Ryan shook his head. ‘It is foolish to attempt to do anything against Byerley now. Even if I give you information about his whereabouts, from where are you going to get the arms and horses and...’

‘I have got horses already. Horses trained for battle. As for the arms, I have been arranging for them.’

‘And after that?’ Ryan asked. ‘How are you going to get out of the country?’

‘That is a problem we can solve.’ Asil said dismissively.

Ryan wondered when it had become ‘we,’ or whether it was just one of Asil’s mistakes in English. Though as he noticed, Asil’s English had considerable improved since the last time they had met. ‘I tell you, it could as well be your death rather than Byerley’s.’

At this Asil’s eyes flashed. ‘Do you really think that I am less than Byerley?’

‘No, but..’

‘Or that I would simply give up on my one opportunity for revenge because I want to cling on like a scared little boy to my already as good as purposeless life.’ Asil was speaking faster than usual, and although the place was as good as dark in the scant light cast by the moon Ryan could see the vein above his temple pulsing.

‘Do you think it is about bravery and cowardice?’ He snapped. ‘I am talking about sense.’

‘If you think you can dissuade me from this than you are wrong. I will never leave the man who’s soldiers raped my sister, my wife and then murdered them and my children in cold blood.’ At this the Turk’s voice had risen considerably.

“Keep your voice down,” the Duke hissed as he looked over his shoulder.

With some difficulty Asil seemed to gain mastery over himself. ‘What I am saying is that I am going to seek revenge against Byerley; whether you help me or not.’

‘Well, then I can only wish you good luck,’ Ryan said. He felt torn and annoyed at Asil for being so obstinate. He understood Asil’s anger but he could not help him. Helping him would be treason; one of the worst crimes, for Byerley had been an important officer in the army. Yet a part of him felt guilty; he knew that Asil had helped him long ago. But that had been different, and there had been no risks then. And most importantly, it did not involve murdering someone.

‘Look, all I need is some information and help in arranging a few things and planning the escape. I do not need you to lead an assault on Byerley. You can do all that and no one will identify you in the slightest with the consequences. I can get away with your help and your secret will die with me.’ Asil said and behind that convincing tone he had adopted Ryan heard an almost pleading one.

‘It is not that easy,’ Ryan said coldly. He would have been willing to help Asil had he not asked him for such a thing.

‘I have the best trained fighters ever, equal to five of your infantry; and I am not boasting. I could put them at your disposal. All I ask is for a little help which you can give.’

Ryan knew Asil would be true to his word. But that didn’t lower his annoyance at being put in this situation or the fact that Asil simply didn’t understand how he felt. ‘And what use would I have of them? Besides, isn’t it going to seem suspicious; me recruiting a team of foreign killers.’

It was Asil this time who laughed. ‘They could do some job for you which requires a little more stealth and secrecy. Surely there is something you must be wanting which you can’t achieve by normal means?’

Ryan considered this for a second. There was some truth in the Turk’s words.

‘Think it over, Albert,’ Asil said. ‘Back in Prussia you have witnessed firsthand how dangerous my fighters can be.’

‘The Grand Ball is waiting and as the Duke of Surrey I am expected to present myself, so I would as well take my leave.’ Ryan said coldly, his supercilious behaviour back.

‘And your answer?’ The Turk asked with raised eyebrows.

‘I will give that in due time, in the place I choose,’ Ryan answered putting a slight emphasis on the last few words. ‘Goodbye.’

With that he walked off in the direction of the open air dance floor. If many had come to attend the race, it was nothing compared to the numbers in the ball. Apparently many more had an interest in social events rather than sport.

Reviews

[DRAGO]

lucky, 3 reviews, and by the way good job. I am in your group, maybe you could read my book

[iamshadowine]

wow! this is a great write! i really really liked it! keep writing :D

[Marlene]

i am so amazed by your writing, so detailed and so many words i had to look up (English is my second language) i am thankful for this. i generally am not specifically a fan of horses, i have that with cats and butterflies but i will surely check in on your writing every now and then! even if its only to find words i need to know how to use. this is very helpful. please keep writing your very talented

[Sanhorsey]

Thanks a lot for reviewing and I am really pleased you enjoyed it. Your review was really encouraging.

[Zaliodir]

This is very good! There are a few minor grammar mistakes, of course, but those are easily found and rectified. I rather do enjoy a good mystery, and this promises to be excellent. I cannot wait until you have written the next chapter. Would you mind if I suggested this as reading to others that I am aquainted with here? Again this is a wonderful start. :)

[Sanhorsey]

No, I wouldn't mind.
Thanks a lot for reviewing and I am pleased you enjoyed!

[Marlene]

Thank you wayland for sending me the request.