Coimbra

"True sir, but if we are found following them, shall it not be suspicious to them if we are noticed?" He tilted his head so his eyes could follow his master's expression.

Erast sighed: he cursed the day he was settled with this highly unexperienced companion. 'We must not be found. End of discussion.'

".... As you wish sir." And more silently he added: "Let us hope our military friends will be as eager to heed your wishes."

Fandorin didn't answer the boy. Sitting back down at his desk, he returned to his work. There were still a few hours to spare before he had to be at the Monastery and he was not going to waste them by having useless discussions.

"May I be excused, sir?" He felt a slight irritated by the companion whom he was assigned to work with, yet he was better not saying so. Instead he only looked at his master in disdain, thinking it a good time to read some of the books from the library. As long as none would see him at the task, he could educate himself rather than let his mind deteriorate in the time when encounters with culture were scarce.

'Yes, yes, do take yourself off, just please don't spend your time sulking, it will create premature wrinkles on your face,' grumbled Fandorin without looking up.

"I have no reason to sulk, sir." He replied simply and then with a curt bow he departed the room, slipping into the other. From a shelf he took a book, and lay himself onto the bed. With boots still on, but legs hanging in part off the bed, he began to read from where he'd left off.

He wondered about the future and knew that if ever they were caught and accused of being spies,.. they would both be killed, no parole given.

George looked at Fernao's sleeping form on the bed. The boy seemed peaceful and untroubled just as any child should be. Turning to gaze out of the small window, George untied the sash and slipped of his uniform jacket absent-mindedly.

It was dark, and a distant bell just sounded eleven at night. The town lay quiet all around. George fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat and threw it on the chair. Picking up his long cloak, he put it on, drawing it about him, so that no on would be able to chide him for his state of undress. He threw a glance at his sabre, resting on a table but decided that his bootknives were more than enough for tonight's little adventure.

Walking like a man who was not exactly hiding but all the same did not wish to be stopped and disturbed, he made his way to the stables, where Firebird was.

The stable yard was quiet as any might expect it to be. Lying outside the gate was a beggar, huddled in the meagre shelter provided by the closed gate. As the Captain walked past him he barely stirred, and would to a casual passer-by seem no more than a pile of dirty old rags.

George smiled in the darkness. He did not bother saddling Firebird for it would only hinder his purpose and led her out of the stables. The narrow streets of Coimbra were not exactly suited for horsemen and George did not want to loose his shadow. He led Firebird down the street that would eventually take him to the other bank of the river where there were much fewer houses and the river bank was secluded from prying eyes.

The rag bundle, waking as even in his sleep he sensed an opportunity for money, stirred and looked up at the young ADC as he led his fine horse out of the yard.

"A little kindness, senhor?" he croaked hopefully in Portuguese, stretching out a tanned and wrinkled hand. "In the name of Our Mother."

George did not know Portuguese but from the man's gesture it was easy to understand what was wanted. His purse was back in the room, but he found two small coins which somehow slipped being put away into their proper place. He placed them into the awaiting hand and turned away, as if the man held no interest to him and was but a small irritation.

A light breeze raffled his cloak as he walked away, showing that he had no distinguishing clothing on him that would mark him as one of the soldiers. for he was dressed only in his shirt, breeches and boots under the cloak. Firebird sensing a walk, whinnied quietly with excitement.

"Thank you, senhor, thank you," the beggar rumbled, putting the coins away in his filthy garment. "God will reward you in Heaven."

On the other side of the street there was a deep shadow in the doorway of a house where the porch protruded in the neo-classical style. After Hunter had moved someway off a deeper patch of shadow detatched itself and moved along silently after the young man.

The beggar, seeing the follower, gave a quiet disgruntled snort and settled back down in his bundle.

George walked quietly with Firebird alongside until the reached the bridge to the other bank. Here he stopped and looked into the dark as if trying to make out something on the opposite side. After a few moments of contemplation he crossed the river and turned to walk on a path alongside the river bank.

The shadow followed. It was reluctant to go across the bridge, yet there was not other option, and it darted from cover to cover, making sure he kept his quarry in sight. What was the young man up to?

It was a little hard to follow Fernao's directions on the unfamiliar stretch of land, but George was not who he was for nothing and presently he came up a to small lagoon, no, backwater, corrected himself George, that was covered by the lush untouched growth, though from the well-trodden path it was obvious it was a well-known place. The shadow of Santa-a-Velha floated somewhere to his right.

George stepped close to the water edge and released Firebird reins, than he looked around rather furtively and sat down onto the grass. Firebird sensing freedom and permission, stepped into the water and trod into the shallow lagoon.

The shadow hung back in the shelter of some scrubby bushes, watching from a distance. The horse was drinking from the pool and the captain was seated on the ground. Doing what, God knew.

George stretched then stood up again, chewing on a grass blade. Again looking aroud, he quickly discarded his boots, stockings and shirt, remaining in breeches only. Locket hanging off his neck glinted ominously in the moonlight. George stepped into the water and swam, while Firebird lifted her head to watch him.

The man was going for a swim at this time of night? The shadow sighed softly, and settled down to watch, reconciling himself to another night of boredom.

After a few peaceful laps, Fibebird decided it was time to play and accosted George just as he expected she would. They chased each other, splashing in the shallow water, the horse nudging George with her head. The game seemed to tire the Captain out and he tried to get ashore, but Firebird started bucking and rearing, demanding more play.

By that time George had all but forgotten about his shadow and was simply enjoying a private moment of freedom, so he did not think twice about his audience as he patted Firebird's neck.
'You want to play? Alright, then.' He mounted and let her gallop a few yards, then turning her abruptly back to the shore where his clothes lay, he slowed the gallop and slowly stood up on the horse's back, holding on to the reins tightly.

Bloody fool this one, the shadow thought as he watched Hunter's capers. Hasn't got a horse, but an overgrown dog!

The trick was dangerous and foolish to attempt without a saddle and in the shallow water, in the darkness, no less, where the horse could not see the ground. Doubly so, when one's legs were wet. George learnt it the hard way. As they approached the shore, where his clothes lay, Firebird slipped on a stone and George overbalanced flying into the water with a tremendous splash. He was lucky, for his fall merely stunned him, but not hurt him. Still, feeling winded, he crawled out of the water onto the shore and collapsed onto his back by his clothes, lying still.

The shadow narrowed its eyes. And now the young fool had gone and fallen! He expected the boy not to resurface, but he crawled out and collapsed on the ground. The shadow waited to see what would happen next.

George lay still, letting the stunned feeling pass, feeling like an idiot. Firebird approached him, and nudged him, but he did not feel like responding and she whinnied pitifully, wanting to continue the game.

Still the watcher waited. Hunter could only be stunned and the horse could yet revive him.