Torchlight

Chapter 9

He cleared his throat. "Sadie. A sweet name for a horse who leads to such dark intent."

Cassandra, still rubbing the mare, turned back and smiled. Emmanuel was sure the entire stable was lit by its radiance. "It is, is it not? I had wanted to call her Venus, or Cleopatra, after the Egyptian queen. But my twin sister had called her Sadie as a joke, and somehow, the name stuck." She looked back at the horse. "And you loved it too, did you not, sweet Sadie?" The horse snickered.

George entered the stable, leading a large black stallion. "My Lord."

"Ah, yes." Emmanuel walked over. "Cassandra," he eyed her horse, "and Sadie," he smiled, "please allow me to introduce, Kingsley."

Cassandra moved over. "He is beautiful."

The horse stomped his hooves. "And he is also impatient to get going. Shall we?"

Emmanuel would have handed Cassandra up into the saddle, but she nimbly swung up and over. He was suitably impressed.

"Ladies first."

Cassandra didn't wait another second. Smiling mischievously, she nudged the sides of her mare and sent Sadie leaping forth, and out into the black night.

Chuckling, Emmanuel did the same, feeling more vigour and excitement than he had in a long time.

They rode swiftly, their horses equally matched as they headed north of London, where many abandoned buildings were often the meeting place of outlaws and thieves. It was also home to some of the poorest and most destitute members of society, most of which were foreigners and immigrants who had come to England, hoping for a better life, and finding poverty and strife instead.

Nearing the makeshift city, Emmanuel stopped occasionally to ask stragglers at road side a few questions. She heard him speak Spanish, German, and listening to the exchange between another man, it seemed also French.

"Monsieur, Merci." He placed a few coins in the man's hand. "Adieu."

Cassandra stared for a moment. His accent was so prominent, so comfortable, that for a minute, it seemed as if he were a Frenchman, and not an English nobleman.

They veered off the road, and winded up the side of a small hill, before reaching the top. There they dismounted and tethered their horses to a nearby tree, well out of sight, cloaked by night.

They were going to lie low, and watch the evening's activities, watch the comings and goings, see if any one of interest visited the area. From their vantage point, high on a hilltop, a panorama of the sprawling slums lay beneath them.

Looking at the dusty surface under the tree, Emmanuel said, "Not the most comfortable accommodations I am afraid."

"Oh, it is perfect, Your Grace. I assure you, Em and I have been in much worse." She grimaced. "At least it does not stink."

Both of them lowered themselves to the ground. Many carriages were milling about, mostly gentlemen seeking female company, hoping to commandeer the services of a doxy for a few hours. Crouching down low, Emmanuel handed her a 'spy glass' and looked through the one he had brought for himself.

Cassandra was impressed. He had come prepared.

"Everything seems normal at present."

"Yes, just men seeking to... get lucky."

Emmanuel shot her a sideways glance.

Cassandra ignored him. "Or so I'm told, Your Grace."

He chuckled, and at that point, she was absolutely certain that there was no sweeter sound. The mixture of husky undertones, warmth from his mirth, and just his personality, all seemed to imbue the sound. Cassandra was sure that should she be able to capture the sound, so that it may be played to audiences, she would become a wealthy woman.