Jack Frost: King of Thieves

CHAPTER XXVIII: Spread Dorfeld Honey On Dorfeld Bread

Jack awoke the following morning to find that Elsa was already up and gone from the chamber. She had even taken the dogs. He pulled on his boots, ran a hand through his hair, and left the room in search of Sir Sandy and perhaps a bite to eat.

He descended the stairs to the great hall. Sunlight streamed through the windows and a fire burned low in the hearth.

Sandy sat at the head of the table, eating boiled eggs and ham, and occasionally tossing a scrap of meat to the dog lying beside his chair. He hummed to himself, clearly still enjoying the fine mood that had carried him off to bed the previous night.

Sandy turned his head at the sound of Jack's footsteps on the floor of the hall.

"I hear a man's step. Good morning, my son."

Jack faltered. He understood the need to maintain this pretense for the servants and those outside the Overland home, but aside from the hounds at Sandy's feet, they were alone.

"Good morning, Sir Sandy," Jack said.

Sandy turned in his chair. "Father," he corrected.

Jack took a breath. "Father," he repeated dutifully.

The old man clapped his hands together, looking delighted.

Jack stepped quickly to the table and leaned on it, so that he stood over the old man. "What is it of my history that you know?" he asked, unable to keep the impatience from his voice. He didn't know how much of this dissembling he could endure. He had no desire to wait days upon days to learn what Sandy knew.

But the old man gave a small shake of his head. "Patience. You must show yourself today." He gestured toward Sir Jackson weapon which lay upon the table. "Wear your sword." Sandy turned toward the stairway again and bellowed "Elsa!"

"I am here, Sandy," she said, appearing at the base of the stairs. She wore a linen long-sleeve bodice, a brown riding skirt, and boots. Clearly, she already knew that Sandy wanted them to spend the day out in the village. She didn't come join them at the table or offer any sort of greeting to Jack. She simply pulled on her riding gloves, clearly annoyed, and in a temper as sour as Sandy's was sweet.

"Reacquaint your husband with his village and his people," the old man said.

Elsa regarded Jack coolly. He was wearing the clothes he first put on the night before. Jackson's clothes—his breeches, the finely embroidered shirt, and an open, collared jacket. Without comment, she walked to the door leading outside.

"I'll see to the horses," she said.

Jack watched her go. Turning back to Sandy, he saw the old man gestured for him to come closer.

"I feel invigorated," the old man said, sharing a confidence. "I woke this morning with a tumescent glow." He pointed to himself. "Eighty-four. A miracle."

Jack straightened, unsure of exactly what he ought to say in response to this.

Elsa appeared in the doorway once more, shaking her head and muttering, "I have always wondered at the private conversations of men." Then, more sharply, "Husband!"

She left the house again, and Jack followed reluctantly, unsure of whether he preferred to spend the day with his "wife" or the old man. Stepping out into the bright sun of Burlington Manor's courtyard, he saw his white charger standing next to a handsome black horse he assumed was Elsa's.