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wheeled about. "Foolish, blinkered and vain."
    "Better a free fool than chained."
    "Chained? That horse bolted a long time ago." Maddocks swiped the air with his heavy sword. "It'll be the noose or nothing for you."
    Lyle laughed. "Then I choose nothing."
    "The choice is not yours to make."
    The colonel came again, bolting impressively forwards from a standing start, but this time Lyle was ready for him. He squeezed his thighs lightly, flicked the reins, and Star slewed away, leaving Maddocks' mount to charge into the cool air in his wake. He turned, even as Maddocks rallied for another assault, slicing his own arc above Star's tall ears in an ostentatious blur. "You may chase me, Mad Ox, but you will not take me alive! I'll fight Goffe's creatures as long as I draw breath!"
    "The war is over, Lyle," Maddocks countered.
    Lyle shook his head as he rolled his shoulders for the next engagement. "Not for me."
    "It was Ireton killed her, Samson," said Maddocks, his tone softening a touch. "His orders. Not Goffe, not Cromwell."
    "But Ireton is dead."
    "Then the debt dies with him."
    Lyle dipped his head as he kicked. "No."
    They raced inward, closing the ground in a heartbeat, but this time Lyle released the reins, gripping with legs only, and unhooked the iron war hammer that hung beside his shin. It was two-thirds of a yard in length, the four-sided hammer counterbalanced by a lethally sharp pick, and he hurled it at Maddocks' horse. The big beast cried out as the heavy club slammed into its shoulder, and it lost its step enough to put Maddocks off his swing. The colonel's broadsword found nothing but clean air, and Lyle brought his own blade round to clatter the side of the soldier's head. Maddocks' helmet saved his life, but the force of the blow knocked him sideways so that he slid halfway off the saddle. The disquieted horse, still whinnying in pain, reared up, throwing him clear so that he finished in a heap of leather and metal in the centre of the grove.
    Lyle was upon him in moments, snatching up the war hammer as he moved to stand over his stricken enemy. He held it up as Maddocks stared forlornly back, wincing with each breath. "An outdated old thing, really. Made for smashing plate armour. Has its uses, though, I'm sure you'll agree."
    Maddocks spat a globule of blood that looked like tar in the night. "Get it over with."
    "When they killed her," Lyle said, "were you there?"
    Maddocks seemed surprised at the question, but he managed to shake his head. "I was not."
    "I never saw her body. Never had the chance to kiss her cold lips or put her in the ground myself."
    "Alice had a good burial, Samson," Maddocks said. "But you were on the run. A deserter."
    Lyle nodded. "It was my fault, I know. And the knowledge that I was not at home when the soldiers came has eaten me alive these four years. I was not there to protect her, as was my duty." He forced a smile that seemed so at odds with his feelings. "But that knowledge has driven me too. Given me purpose that had all but leaked away in Ireland."
    "Just kill me now, damn you!" Maddocks snarled suddenly, the wait for his demise crushing his spirit as he gazed up at the stars.
    "I will not," Lyle said. He went to gather up Star's reins and clambered nimbly into the saddle, putting the weapons away and offering a sharp bow. "You are bested, Francis, and I will best you again, and again, for as long as you hunt me. The war is not yet done. It is a war of vengeance, against those who wronged me, chased me away from my home and murdered my wife. A war against the Protector's creatures. It will never be done."
     
    ***
     
    The Red Lion was a modest establishment just off the Portsmouth to London Road at a village called Rake. It had stabling for half a dozen horses, lodgings enough for the same number of travellers, and a decent sized taproom stocked with good local ale and a passable claret. It was also the perfect place from which a highwayman might launch his campaign.
    "What