Way of the Heron

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Epilogue One

Big Lord Otter

Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!

Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned. Especially in this day and age.

Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author.

Historical Note: This chapter happens during June of 1869. The action takes place in the valley of the heron and in England, specifically, in and around London, and the counties of Middlesex and Surrey.

And now, on with the story!

BIG LORD OTTER

The June sun shone warmly on the sparkling waters of the harbor at Port Bolon. With all the ships coming and going, it was forgivable for anyone to miss marking one coastal vessel in particular, which flew a British flag as it was guided into a berth. The usual tasks commenced, of making fast to the pier, dealing with the logistics of unloading some freight and taking on more for its next port of call. As part of that business, a messenger left the boat and made his way to the offices of the Oceanic Bank of Oregon.

Most of what the man carried were routine ship's papers and insurance forms that were to be checked and updated. But tucked inside the bundle was a letter of a personal character. One that would launch a new adventure for the heron men.

The surface of a big willow growing on the edge of Lemolo Lake coruscated in an odd way, odd that is in any place other than the valley of the heron. A young, red headed man stepped out of the trunk, momentarily transformed by eldritch energies into a portal between Earth and the spirit realm. He looked around, taking in the familiar sights.

It was not Mike O'Reilly's first time in that particular part of the valley of the heron, along the southern shore of Lemolo Lake. He and his partner, Richard Ardley, the owner of the Oceanic Bank of Oregon, had spent many pleasant times there since their initiation into the Elxa tribe, staying with the two men who made their home nearby. A path marked by knee high standing stones led away from the tree Mike had exited. Some of the stones had a glyph carved on them that he knew well. It was the same graceful sign that was etched onto a small stone pendant he wore.

Following the upward sloping path, Mike came eventually to a sort of plateau, a shelf of rock. To his right was a large hot spring, welling from a fissure in the ground. Originally little more than a puddle in a low spot of the plateau, it had been improved by the addition of a mortared stone wall that contained its sparkling waters. The good-sized, four foot deep pool steamed merrily and looked quite inviting, but Mike had a task to perform before he could think of relaxing.

The back of the stone ledge was defined by a wall of cracked and broken rock, a little over the height of a man. That was the source of the stone used to build around the hot spring, as well as the bottom story of a nearby cabin. It had been built up against the face of the small cliff.

The second story, built mostly of trimmed logs, stood atop the rugged stone foundation and extended beyond onto another flat above the small cliff. Mike climbed a flight of stone stairs and looked around. A spacious barn stood a discrete distance away, near the stream called Dark Fire Creek. A large corral attached to it held a pair of horses.

Mike smiled to himself as he spied another structure beside the barn. It sheltered a small but busy distillery, run by his heron brothers Silas Trent and Mark Nutley. Their liquor was becoming quite popular in the area. The general store in False Pass was beginning to have trouble keeping their whiskey in stock, as merchants in other towns learned of the new and excellent source of liquor and ordered supplies of it through the store at False Pass.

This next higher patch of even ground was rather rocky in spots and the soil that covered it was not deep. Only a few trees had found room to put down roots there. However, the area was gifted with a lush growth of grasses, herbs and wildflowers. Mike inhaled deeply and his nose told him that a great amount of wild mint grew there as well.

Mike spotted the man we was looking for as he gazed across the stone pocked field. Phil Caddell, or Big Otter as most of his Elxa brothers called him, was reclining on a blanket spread out under the ebullient June sunlight with his lover, Mark Nutley, also known as Dark Fire. Both men were naked and, for a second, Mike was afraid he might be interrupting something, but he soon saw that the men were just dozing and approached.

The smell of mint grew stronger as he neared the pair. Mike saw the broken and crushed stems of a patch of wild Southern Oregon mint peeking out from under the edges of their blanket, which was stained here and there with errant gouts of semen. The men's amorous exertions had crushed the herbs they laid on and released a veritable miasma of minty aroma to hover over and envelop them. A small leather sack of Elxa salve lay abandoned near the men's heads and Mike sighed inwardly, recalling the pleasures facilitated for him by the fulvous native grease.

As Mike came closer, his eyes ran over Phil's extraordinarily hairy and thickly muscled body. In the process, they were drawn irresistibly to his crotch. The heron man's endowment was an amazing gift of nature, well known and even legendary within his tribe. Even soft and relaxed, lying stretched out across a black furred thigh, it commanded attention, especially from manlovers like Mike. Mark's eyes fluttered open slowly as he heard the sound of boots whispering through the tall grass.

"Hello, Mike," he yawned and stretched, completely unconcerned by the state he was discovered in. The black haired, lanky cowboy did not have Phil's bulk, but Mike knew the strength of Mark's arms and the stamina of his body, remembering the times Mark had taken him, riding the redhead like an unbroken colt over extended, sweat drenched sessions of boisterous mansex.

"Is Phil awake?" whispered Mike as he knelt beside Mark. As he did so, he reached to caress his heron brother's shoulder before letting his fingers trail across the cowboy's hard chest, parting the tangle of black hairs that grew there.

"Mmm-hum... " Phil responded, stretching as well and pulling his lover's body to his in a slow, tight hug. After kissing the back of Mark's neck, he blinked over it at Mike. "It's good to see you again, Mike. How's Richard doing?"

"He's great. The bank keeps him busy, but I take his mind off it when quitting time comes and make sure he relaxes."

"I'll bet you do," chuckled Mark.

"What brings you here?"

"Richard asked me to bring you this," Mike answered, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a thick letter. As he handed it over, he added, "It came to the bank yesterday, via a Canadian boat."

Phil grew more alert and sat up the instant he saw the sloppy blue wax seal on the letter. He looked at the unfamiliar coat of arms stamped there, crossed tridents against a checkered background. Then he flipped the letter over and read what was written there.

"Who's it from?" asked Mark.

"Why, Sir Terrance Sandersfield," puzzled Phil as he eagerly opened the envelope.

"Wasn't that the fellow you told me about? The one you met at Port Bolon a year ago?"

"Yes, when I went there with Will. It was quite a coincidence, running into him. He was just passing through, on his way back to England, and retirement on his estate."

Phil ceased talking as he began reading the letter's contents. However, it was not long before his onlooking friends could tell something was very wrong by the changes in Phil's expression as he went through the letter. The big man looked quite grim by the time he finished it.

"What is it, pard?" Mark asked as Phil got up and reached for his clothes.

Mark knew all about the complicated relationship his lover had with his family in England and the knotty problems they posed for him. All were rooted in Phil's seemingly inevitable succession as Baron of Swansgrave, which would make him one of the wealthest peers in that kingdom. And force him to give up his life in the valley of the heron, a possibility Phil dreaded.

But Mark knew the last news Phil had received, from one of his uncles, seemed to relieve him of those worries. A new heir to the barony had been born, displacing Phil and freeing him to stay with the Elxa. Since then, Phil had been happier than Mark could remember and the cowboy did all he could to keep his partner's mind off his faraway family.

"My uncle Rupert needs help," Phil began. "I have to go to him."

"Wha...?! You mean to England?"

"Yes." Phil pulled on his trousers and pushed his long cock down the inside of one pantleg. It was a unconscious motion, something he had always done from necessity since childhood, but the men who were watching him found it quite an interesting and arousing gesture. Phil paused while buttoning his fly and looked at his lover. "Will you come with me, Mark?"

"Of course! You know I'd follow you anywhere, pard!" Mark answered emphatically. "But why? What's happened?"

"An attempt was made to poison my uncle Rupert." Phil informed his shocked companions. "He survived, but remains quite weak. He needs me. I'm the only one in the family he can trust right now."

"Who did it?" asked Mark as he jumped up and began to pull on his own clothing.

"That's the most disturbing part. Terrance says the police found evidence that Rupert's own mother was behind the attempt."

"Your grandmother? Eberhardine?"

"She's been charged with attempted murder. And given how long it took for this letter to get here, I wouldn't be surprised if the trial was already underway."

On the evening of the day after Phil received Terrance's letter, the wide trunk of an enormous oak tree on the edge of a scrupulously maintained park began glittering in a most uncommon way, forming a doorway between the spirit realm and Earth. One by one, five men emerged from the arcane portal and into a purple Middlesex twilight. All were well dressed, in the manner of English gentlemen on a country outing, thanks to some remarkably fast tailoring arraigned by their friend Richard Ardley, the banker in Port Bolon, and four of them carried bags such as travelers used.

"Eben, Jack, are you alright?"

"If you mean to ask if we have our abilities back, Hun Tzu," Eben responded, "I can feel that I do. Jack?"

'Yes,' the vampire's voice sounded in their minds, 'I'm my old dead self again.' Despite the jest, Jack could feel his sanguine thirst returning and knew he would have to hunt down an evildoer and feed before dawn.

"Where did you say the portal would take us to?" asked Mark, looking around.

"This is the estate of Sir Terrance Sandersfield, located in far southwestern Middlesex." Phil replied.

The big man paused and peered through the trees. He pointed, drawing his companions' attention to a nearby country manor house. It was the place which Phil had determined was the source of the letter he had received and the home of an old friend.

Though it was not as large as most other English manors, the stone structure was well proportioned and set amid carefully maintained gardens. The lawns stretched around and beyond it, down to the edge of the Thames, whose broad, rippling surface was silvered by the first stars of the night. A small ship was sailing past, a dark shape defined by red and blue lights at its helm and stern.

"Jack, can you tell if Sir Terrance is home?" Phil asked.

Jack looked searchingly at the house, probing it with the power of his mind. His face brightened. He turned to Phil and smiled.

"It's just as you thought," he began. "Your uncle is here."

"Rupert's still here?"

"Sir Terrance offered him his home to convalesce in." Jack turned his face back to the house as he continued to scan the minds of those within it. "Phil, Rupert is afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Knowledge of his marriage and son are still not publicly known. He's afraid whoever poisoned him will go after his family, if they know about them."

"Where are Matilda and Thomas?"

"They are still staying with Lord St. Croix... Phil, Rupert doesn't know who poisoned him, but he's convinced it wasn't his mother, despite all the evidence against her."

"No one would want to acknowledge that he had so unnatural a mother," muttered Phil. "But Eberhardine is the only one with an obvious motive, to keep her 'base-born' grandson Thomas from inheriting the barony."

"Let's go and see him, pard," urged Mark.

"Wait!" Jack hissed, "I just felt another mind... "

The vampire turned and looked towards the neatly gravelled lanes that led to the entrance of the estate. Seeing that, Hun Tzu pulled his lo-pan out of his bag and manipulated it, looking for signs of danger. He quickly zeroed in on the same thing Jack had sensed.

"It is a minion of evil," the geomancer breathed, reading the signs revealed to him.

"Yes," agreed Jack. "Someone is hiding near the gate, spying on Sir Terrance's house. He's trying to gather information on Rupert."

"Is he part of the plot to kill my uncle?" asked Phil.

"I'll soon find out. Listen, I'll take care of the spy, make sure there are no others lurking around here and then go on to London and check Lord St. Croix's house. If I learn anything more, I can let you know through Eben."

"Right," Eben nodded. Because of their werebeast natures, Eben knew Jack could converse telepathically with him or his lover Zack over great distances.

Jack seemed to disappear before his companions' eyes. Shortly thereafter Eben flinched, his sensitive hearing having caught the stifled death cry of the spy. He looked down the neat lane, as Jack had done earlier, using his night vision to search for his friend.

"What is it?"

"Jack, uh, 'took care of him'," muttered Eben as the vampire spoke to him telepathically. "Jack says the man was paid to watch the house by someone named Adrian Singleton. He noted who came and went and at what times. Then he reported it to Adrian. He didn't know anything more than that."

"I've never heard of the man," Phil replied.

"Jack says he will stay on the lookout for this Adrian fellow. He's goin' on to London and Lord St. Croix's house now, like we agreed."

"Are there any other dangers we should know about?" Phil asked, turning to Hun Tzu.

"No. In fact... " the geomancer looked up from his lo-pan and glanced towards the manor in mild surprise. "There is much positive energy here. The same kind of energy that abounds in the valley of the heron!"

"What does that mean?" asked Mark. "Are there fellows here who are like us?"

"I believe so," Hun Tzu replied, looking at the lo-pan again. "I see no females here, only men."

"This could be interestin'!" smiled Eben.

"Well, gentlemen, shall we?" Phil invited as he gestured towards the manor.

Hun Tzu put away his ivory geomantic instrument and the four men crossed the finely manicured lawn, coming around to the front of the house, which presented a stolid Georgian era facade. The gravel lane made a graceful elliptical loop around an ornamental fountain, so coaches could allow their passengers to alight before a wide and massive flight of stone steps. Phil climbed them to the spacious porch before a huge door of polished oak. He wielded the heavy brass knocker with authority. After a minute or so, a handsome, redheaded man opened the door, plainly surprised to see visitors.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I am Philip Caddell. I understand my uncle Rupert is here, staying with Sir Terrance. Rupert sent for me and I would like to see him."

"The Squire of Swansgrave?!" the nonplussed servant asked, using Rupert's formal title. "Of course! Please come in, sir!" He swung the vast door open wide for Phil and his companions. Then, quickly recovering his composure, he went on in a more formal manner. "If you will wait here a moment, sirs, I shall go and inform Sir Terrance of your arrival."

"Thank you."

As the servant left, Phil set his valise down and looked about himself, admiring the foyer of the manor. It formed a great hall that seemed to extend the length of the house, ending in a great gridwork of glass that faced the west. Glancing up, he could see some of the second floor, its rooms opening onto an open, porchlike hallway with railings that ran all around the foyer a dozen feet above where he stood. Lighting was provided by a number of slim pewter columns lined along the walls, each about six feet tall and supporting globes of frosted glass. Imprisoned within each fragile bubble were kerosene lanterns. Their simple, unadorned style pleased Phil.

The floors were paved with white Italian marble, which gleamed as it threw back the light of the lanterns. They also neatly complimented and brightened the dark English oak paneling. Phil looked more closely at the walls in open curiosity. The carvings and woodwork appeared to be a rather florid example of Elizabethan era work. Since the manor did not seem to be that old on the outside, Phil assumed the paneling had been rescued from the ruin of an older house and reinstalled here quite skillfully.

Glancing to his right, Phil took in a great staircase that wound gracefully up to the second floor, which was also executed in a tasteful manner, and filled the northeastern corner of the manor. At the foot of the staircase was a marble mosaic of Sir Terrance's family coat of arms. The heraldic shield held a checkerboard of sixteen green and blue alternating squares. Superimposed upon this colorful background were two crossed golden tridents.

When he turned back to his fellow heron men, Phil was amused by their expressions. Eben and Mark's mouths were open with amazement as they took in their opulent surroundings. Hun Tzu looked impressed, but since he had been raised by a rich and cultured Chinese noble, he was more used to seeing lavish displays of wealth like this.

"This is rather nice," Phil chuckled to his distracted friends. "But this is by no means a grand house!"

"You gave up a life like this to live in the valley of the heron?" managed Eben.

"Queen Elizabeth once said, 'To be a king and wear a crown is more glorious to them that see it than it is a pleasure to them that bear it.' I couldn't live in this glittering world, knowing I'd always have to live a lie and hide my true nature. So I left and luckily for me, I found a better home... and love... "

"Oh, pard... " Mark breathed when he felt Phil's hand find his and squeeze it familiarly. The cowboy found it enthralling that his love could mean more to Phil than the wealth and power represented by all they saw around them.

"Philip?" a voice called. The heron men looked towards the stairs and saw a gray bearded, fifty-something man who had paused a few steps from the foyer. He was looking anxiously towards the group.

"Hello again, Sir Terrance," Phil began, bowing slightly. "I hope I look more like an English gentleman than the last time we met."

"And so you do, my boy. Quite smart. Though, egad, I suspect you will find few others in society who can match that patriarchal beard of yours! And you can drop the 'Sir' while we're in my home, unless you want me to address you as 'Right Honorable Philip'."

"No, no!" protested Phil. "Terrance it is."

Terrance smiled as he descended the stairs and came over to shake Phil's hand. "I'm so glad you've come. Are these friends of yours?"

"Yes. All from America, but quite housebroken, I assure you." Phil ignored the surreptitious poke in the back he got from Mark for his jibe. "This is Eben Hale, Mark Nutley, and Ch'a Hun Tzu."

"Not a very American name, eh?" Terrance asked as he shook Hun Tzu's hand.

"Oregon is my home now, but my father was the head of the Ch'a clan, an ancient family of Foochow, established there in the T'ang Dynasty."

"I understand. I toured the Far East years ago and I am well aware that your people enjoyed high civilization when most of the English nobility were illiterate and fought one another with axes!" he smiled. "Have you eaten? I can order up a simple dinner while the servants prepare rooms for you."

"I can't speak for the others, Terrance, but I would rather see my uncle as soon as possible."

"I'll take you up on that offer," Mark volunteered as the others nodded.

"Of course, of course. McCreag?"

"Yes, sir?" the first servant reappeared from a room off the foyer.

"Gentlemen, this is McCreag, my butler. Take Philip's companions in hand, will you? Ask Gilbert to whip something up for them. Oh, and tell Winton to prepare the two rooms past Rupert's - er, you gentlemen won't mind sharing beds, I hope?"

"That will be quite alright, Terrance," Phil replied with a straight face while the others laughed behind their hands. "Mark and I will share one room, and Eben and Hun Tzu can take the other."

"Alright. McCreag, tell Winton to put Philip and his companion in the room next to Rupert."

"Very good, sir. Will you gentlemen follow me?"

"Come with me Philip. I'm sure Rupert will be very glad to see you," Terrance said as McCreag showed the others into a sumptuous drawing room and offered them cigars and drinks. "I suppose you've seen the terrible things they are saying in the newspapers," he went on in a lower voice as they mounted the stairs.

"The papers? No, I... I was so focused on getting here that I ignored such things," faltered Phil. The last thing he wanted was to reveal his means of travel. He and the others had agreed to give out generalities of a conventional journey, by rail and steamship, if anyone asked.

"Then you're in for a shock, I fear."

"Why?" Phil asked, pausing on the stairs.

"Why?! Because of your grandmother's involvement in this sordid affair. She's being vilified as a new Lucrezia Borgia! And the good name of your uncle Constantine is being sullied along with hers, because he supports her."

"But, in the letter you sent me, you said Rupert thought he was sure Eberhardine was innocent."

"I think his mind naturally revolts at the idea that the woman who gave him life would stoop to take it from him. But the evidence against her seems airtight, from all that I have seen. I'm sure Rupert will arrange for you to speak with his barrister. He has all the police reports on the matter." They continued up the staircase and went to a door opposite it. Terrance knocked and they heard a voice bid them enter.

Phil followed Terrance into the room, recalling the picture his uncle had sent the year before. But the tall man who sat in a large, amply padded armchair looked like a leaner version of that person. His gray whiskers, neatly trimmed into mutton chops, only partly hid the gauntness of his face. He looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, peering curiously at the large man standing behind his friend Terrance.

"Rupert, you have a visitor... "

"I see," the squire said, standing up unsteadily. Both Terrance and Phil rushed to support him, but he shrugged them off. "I can stand on my own. Who are you, sir?"

"I'm Philip, your nephew. I should have sent you a picture, as you were kind enough to send me one of yourself, Matilda and your son, Thomas."

"Philip!" he breathed. "Yes, yes! Terrance had described you to me, the way you looked when you two met by chance in Port Bolon. I can see my brother Montague, your father, in you... but you're so big! Life in America certainly seems to have agreed with you!" Rupert stepped forward and they enveloped each other in a hug. The men were the same height, but Rupert's ordeal had caused him to shed weight. He could not match Phil's thickly muscled figure and Phil could feel the way Rupert no longer filled out his clothing. "I'm so glad you've come, Philip."

"I'm glad to be here. And I'll help in any way I can."

"Then come to London with me. With your support I can finally let the world know about my marriage and son. And I have to see my family again. Matilda writes to me every day. She says she understands my fears for her and Thomas, but I know she'd rather be at my side, to nurse and support me."

"Alright, Rupert," Phil agreed as he eased his uncle back down into his chair. "We'll go to London. But tell me everything that has happened. I want to get the true story from you, and not the papers."

"The papers! Bah!" The squire gestured angrily at his crumpled copy of the Times. "All they print in that rag are lies! Do you know, the radicals are using our family's misfortunes to agitate against the established order of things, saying the 'privileges' of the nobility are the root of such crimes. Hah! If they get their way, I doubt they will treat the poor any better than we do, but everyone will be crushed by the taxes the government will need to impose in order to do the job we already do, looking after those who are dependant upon the nobility of England!"

"Don't tire yourself out before you can tell Philip what he wants to hear, Rupert." Terrance warned.

"Alright, old friend," sighed Rupert, nodding to Terrance before turning to his nephew. "It happened three months ago. I was visiting Swansgrave Manor, since I prefer to live at our London house, which gives me ample opportunities to see Matilda and Thomas, as well as avoid my mother, who predictably was agitating for me to get married again. I had come to see Constantine about some fine point of family business and we had dinner together as usual. Then I retired to my room.

"Later on, while I was working on some account books, I felt hungry again and rang for a servant to bring me another bowl of the excellent oxtail soup we had been served at dinner for a snack. I was somewhat surprised when Eberhardine brought to it me herself and stayed awhile to chat. Mother was very pleasant and went to some pains to let me know how pleased she was at my return home. I suspected she was buttering me up in preparation for another lecture about family duties and marriage, but she did not touch on that subject.

"Anyway, after she left, I continued working and taking a spoonful of soup at odd intervals. The doctors say that was what saved my life. Had I eaten the soup all at once, we wouldn't be having this conversation now. I'm told there was a rather large dose of aconite mixed into my soup. I fell ill from it before I could finish the bowl, and the police had the remainder analyzed."

"Aconite... that's made from wolfsbane isn't it?"

"Yes. and the police believe Eberhardine put it in my soup."

"But where would she get it? I hope poisons aren't publicly sold at apothecary's shops now!"

"They aren't, but there are other ways of getting it. The police found a patch of wild wolfsbane growing near the manor, and what's more, a large part of it had been dug up recently. The roots, you know, are the source of the poison."

"That can't be all the evidence they have!"

"No, they also interviewed the servants and learned Eberhardine had insisted on bringing up my snack herself. So they say she had the opportunity of poisoning it. They also found a book in the library on wild herbs, open to the very page describing wolfsbane and its effects."

"Still, it's all circumstantial. No one actually saw who dug up that patch of wolfsbane, right?"

"No, there are no eye witnesses to anything the police have surmised. Nevertheless, a charge of attempted murder has been brought against Eberhardine, despite her tearful denials. She says when she was on her way to me with the soup, she realized the servant had forgotten to give her a spoon and napkins. She set the soup down in the hallway and went back to the kitchen to get what she needed. Someone must have poisoned the soup then, but no one except Eberhardine saw the unattended soup, so the police are skeptical."

"I didn't think we would hang a dog on such evidence in this country!" Phil exclaimed. "When is the trial?"

"Next week. Since the crime happened at our estate, the trial ought to have been held at Lingfield, which as you know is the closest town. But because of the sensational press this affair has gotten, there was a delay while it was decided to move the trial to the main court of Surrey, at Kingston-upon-Thames. The expected crowds can be accommodated more easily there."

There was a knock at the open door.

"Yes, McCreag?" Terrance responded, looking at his man.

"I have shown your guests into dinner, sir."

"Very good. I'll be down directly."

"What guests?" asked Rupert.

"Friends of mine who were good enough to come with me, since they knew I would need support," Phil responded.

"Oh? Then I'll come down too and meet them. Except for a couple of Terrance's neighbors, I've had no public life to speak of for the last two months."

"They're Americans," warned Terrance with a smile as Rupert got up.

"I don't care if they're Hottentots!" the squire responded, showing some of his usual spirit. Terrance was glad and could tell that Phil's presence was already doing his old friend good. "Hand me my stick, Philip. I think I can manage the stairs on my own."

"Did you acquire this in India?" asked Phil as he hefted his uncle's ebony walking stick. It was a impressive piece of native work, with cunning designs spiraling along its length and topped with a bright brass handle.

"Yes. Have you ever seen a Penang lawyer like that?"

"Penang lawyer?" puzzled Phil.

"That's the common name for a heavy stick like this out east," Rupert explained as he took it and stood up. "Some, heartless overseers mostly, use them to discipline the lower castes when they get out of line."

"I would think since the Mutiny there we would see the wisdom in treating the natives better," opined Phil.

"Memories are still too fresh," Rupert shook his head. "I'm afraid the government is determined to punish India and her people thoroughly for their rebellion, and for a long time to come."

Terrance led them downstairs and into the dining room, the walls and ceiling of which were paneled like the foyer in old Tudor woodwork. The solid oak walls were handcrafted in an antique style with a recurring crowned rose motif. Each flowery device was framed by carvings of rope, and wherever they crossed, they seemed to be tied together in what a bygone age called 'true love knots'.

A colorful oriental carpet rested beneath a long oak table capable of accommodating far more than the six men who seated themselves around one end of it. Introductions were made all around, and Phil sat between Mark and Eben, who were still somewhat abashed by the finery of their new surroundings. But when Phil saw all three of his fellow heron men looking in dismay at the numerous, neatly placed pieces of shining silverware set before each of them, he chuckled softly to himself.

"Start at the outside and work your way in," he advised them, taking his napkin and placing it in his lap.

"We don't use the same knife and fork for the whole meal?" asked Mark as the others imitated him.

"Of course not. It wouldn't be civilized." Phil responded, causing his friends to goggle at him. "Don't worry, no one's going to criticize your table manners here," he went on, smiling as McCreag deftly filled their Waterford crystal goblets with wine from an old bottle. "But we probably will get invited to some formal dinners, so it might be a good idea for you to learn the basics."

"Yes," Rupert joined in good naturedly as Phil reached for his glass and took a sip. "We have a high tolerance for your colonial ways, but let us amend your manners somewhat!"

"This is a very good wine, Terrance," Phil complimented.

"I should hope so. My grandfather went to a lot of trouble to get it. He was a captain during the Napoleonic Wars and had the good fortune to capture a French ship loaded with wine. He used his prize money to buy the lion's share of the cargo, enough to keep himself and his descendants delightfully pickled!"

"Oh? May I see the bottle?"

McCreag brought it over and Phil studied the old paper label, yellow and spotted with age. Besides the plainly printed words, a scattering of stars were also depicted.

"Chateau de Picard. 1799." Phil read. "Well, 1799 must have been a good year for French wine, if not for France herself."

"It's good to see your sojourn in America hasn't dulled your appreciation for the finer things." Terrance smiled. "Ah! Here's the first course."

"First course?" muttered Mark as McCreag entered with a silver tray. "I thought this was just a snack."

"Oh, there's more to come," Phil smiled. "You'll get just a little of each course."

"It smells delicious," admitted Hun Tzu as small, steaming bowls of thick, creamy soup were set before them. He reached for the outermost spoon, then paused and looked at Phil. His heron brother smiled and nodded, letting Hun Tzu know he had made the right choice.

"What is it?" Eben asked.

"Asparagus Peas," Phil answered, taking a spoonful. "Hmmm. And excellently done, too."

"Yes, I am very fortunate in my cook, Gilbert." Terrance admitted as he noticed Rupert's longing look at the food being eagerly consumed by the younger men. "Are you feeling hungry, my friend?"

"Actually, yes. But I think I'll wait for the next course. Soup is no longer my favorite part of dinner."

"I can understand why," Hun Tzu commiserated with him.

"How much has Philip told you?" asked Rupert.

"Only what was in your friend's letter to him. But I promise you, if it is in our power, we will find out who did this terrible deed and see that justice is done."

"I envy you your friends, Philip," Rupert declared as McCreag gathered the soupbowls in preparation for the serving of the second course.

"I'd say we were both lucky, uncle. Terrance and Lord St. Croix seem to have rendered you great services also."

"Yes," he sighed. "Clarence, Terrance and I were great friends at Cambridge, and our foreign service careers continued to bond us despite the distances between the places we were stationed."

McCreag reappeared with another set of silver for Rupert. Then he distributed plates of fine Wedgewood china. Each plate held some small toasted cheese and lamb sandwiches and a cold salad tossed with slices of roast duck in a creamy dressing.

"How did you like that?" Phil asked his lover as the empty plates were removed a little while later.

"Delicious," he replied, taking some wine and trying not to toss it down like he did most liquor. "I like the whiskey Silas and I make better than this wine," he confided in a low voice, "though it is real tasty. Is it something special, like you said, pard?"

"Oh yes. This is a very fine old wine. I suspect one would pay fifty pounds or more for a bottle of like quality. But I'm sure we can get you something stronger if you want it."

"No, no! I'm not aimin' to get drunk, especially in front of your uncle and his fancy friend!" Mark protested quietly as another set of plates were laid before the diners.

"Marrow pudding?" Terrance smiled. Up until then he had only taken some wine, having eaten earlier. "That is one of Gilbert's specialties! Bring me some too, McCreag."

"Very good, sir," he replied. Soon all were enjoying the custard of beef marrow, milk and eggs sweetened with sugar and raisins.

"What a great dessert!" Eben acknowledged for his companions.

"That wasn't dessert," Phil informed him.

"No?"

"No. Not sweet enough. When you get something really rich and sugary, you know you've come to the end of the dinner." Phil glanced at what McCreag brought in next and smiled. "Something like Vol-au-vent."

"What?" asked Mark as he eyed the confection set before him. Despite the unfamiliar name, it proved to be a delicious puff pastry filled with strawberries and whipped cream. "Wow," he began after finishing it, "I'll bet 'Vol-au-vent' is French for 'food of the gods'!"

"Gilbert will be amused and pleased with your praise," Terrance smiled.

"I guess some of Phil's eloquence has rubbed off on me."

"I remember now," began Rupert. "In talking with some of your old professors and acquaintances, Philip, they recalled that you were almost always ready with an apt verse on any occasion. What can you say about this dinner?"

Phil thought for a moment. "I believe Lord Byron had some verses that might apply:"

Their table was a board to tempt even ghosts To pass the Styx for more substantial feasts. I will not dwell upon ragouts or roasts, Albeit all human history attests That happiness for man - the hungry sinner! - Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.

"Bravo!" enthused Terrance. "Lord Byron may have been 'mad, bad and dangerous to know', as one of his mistresses famously said, but, egad, the man could write poetry! Shall we retire to the library for cigars and brandy?"

"Certainly," Phil said, rising. Mark whispered in his ear and Phil grinned before turning to Terrance. "My friend wants to know where your, ah, 'necessary facilities' are." Mark had asked for the outhouse, but Phil softened his request.

"Come with me, Mark, I'll show you."

As Rupert and the rest moved to go to the library, Phil excused himself long enough to go up to his room and retrieve something from his bag. He met Mark on his return to the library.

"Pard!" he whispered excitedly. "They've got a regular bathhouse built in here! It's got showers and everything, like the fancy hotels I've heard of in San Francisco!"

"I look forward to using it with you," Phil returned through a smile, adding a quick kiss before the couple entered the library. It featured a great bay window that faced the south, allowing an unobstructed view of the gardens and grounds that ran down to the banks of the Thames, all silvered by moonlight.

"What do you have there, Philip?" Terrance asked, spying the object he carried.

"Something for you and Rupert to try, if you'd like. My friend Mark is a partner in running a distillery, and this is a bottle of his finest whiskey."

"'Lemolo Fire Water'?" Terrance smiled as he read the label. "Oh well," he chortled as he uncorked the bottle, "I've always believed the best life is an adventurous one!"

Mark held his breath as Terrance filled small glasses for the group. Terrance and Rupert were, besides Phil, the most sophisticated men he had ever met, and he awaited their verdict on the liquor he and Silas had labored over with anxiousness. But he could tell by the way their eyes lit up when they tasted his whiskey that they liked it. As they were congratulating Mark on his skills as a distiller, Eben whispered to Phil.

"Jack is callin' to me. I'll go for a walk so I can 'talk' with him without distractions."

"Alright," agreed Phil. "Terrance, would you mind if Eben took a walk around the grounds?"

"Of course not. I often do myself after dinner. Just let yourself back in when you're ready, Eben. My door is never locked."

"Thank you, Terrance. I won't be long."

"Phil," Hun Tzu whispered as Eben left. "I was wondering. Should we mention the spy to Terrance and Rupert? And Adrian Singleton as well?"

"I've been trying to think of a way to bring it up, but I fear we'd have to explain more than we want to. Let me give it some more thought."

"Alright."

The five chatted amiably over their drinks for a half hour or so, until Rupert gave his regrets, and retired for the evening. The rest decided to follow him, all but Phil went outside to look for Eben. He found his fellow tribesman on the south side of the manor, sitting on an ornate bronze bench in a formal garden edged by beds of fragrant lavender.

That spot commanded a grand view of the nearby Thames. Another ship was passing just then, its lamplights flickering and reflecting in the wavering river as it glided past, its engines droning faintly. But Eben was too deep in telepathic conversation with Jack to admire the sights. He did acknowledge Phil though, taking his burly heron brother's hand as he sat next to him.

"Okay, Jack," he whispered before turning to Phil. "Brace yourself. Jack has discovered some disturbin' things."

"Like what?"

"Jack found another spy watchin' Lord St. Croix's house in London. From his thoughts, Jack learned he too was employed by Adrian Singleton. Phil, this Singleton fellow seems to know all about Matilda and Thomas!"

"How can that be? Rupert hasn't made his connection to her public."

"Jack isn't sure, but the spy was told by Singleton to watch the house and especially the woman and child who were livin' there, so he must know something."

"What were the spy's intentions?"

"He watched the house, noted who came and went, and when, and reported it to Singleton, the same instructions the man who we found watching Sir Terrance's house had."

"This can't be good."

"Jack agrees. He says he has looked into the house and that no one there, Lord St. Croix, his servants or his guests, suspect that they are being watched. Jack has used his mental gifts to heighten the suspicions of everyone there, so they will have more care, for they do know Matilda's position and Rupert's fears for her and his son's safety."

"Maybe one of the servants talked about Matilda, if they know about her."

Eben cocked his head as if he were listening.

"Jack says the servants are all loyal to their lord, and have obeyed his orders not to discuss their guest with anyone outside the house."

"Hmmm. Will Jack return here before sunrise to sleep?"

"He says he will come back and return to the spirit realm through the tree Hun Tzu opened."

"I see. Hopefully, we will find another suitable tree in the gardens of my family's London house. It's been a long time, but I recall one or two good sized oaks grew there. Tell Jack if he wants to speak to us, he can slip into our rooms later. Otherwise, I believe my uncle intends to go to London tomorrow."

"Jack understands." Eben paused and nodded. "Thanks, Jack. See you later," he whispered as Jack broke his link. "Well, I guess I'm ready for bed."

"I believe our rooms are connected and the beds are large. All four of us could... " Phil smiled, leaving his suggestion unfinished.

"Well, I'd certainly like another chance to take that pole of yours inside of me," sighed Eben, remembering Phil's gentle love, both filling and fulfilling, "but I don't want to intrude on you and Mark."

"Well, it was a thought. And you know Mark would welcome you and Hun Tzu as much as I." Phil reminded his friend as they returned to the house.

They retired to their rooms. Phil found Mark waiting for him. He kissed Phil urgently and whispered.

"C'mon, pard, let's go take a shower in that fancy bathhouse!"

Phil was more than willing to agree. Taking some towels with them, the men quietly padded down the staircase with bare feet and headed for the bathroom. As they reached the outer door, they were disappointed by the sound of running water. They were about to turn back when they heard McCreag's voice gasp.

"Oh, yes, Gilbert! Take me!"

Looking at each other in dismay, the heron men both reached for the doorknob. Phil got there first and eased the door open. The space was divided into two parts, and they first saw the servants' clothing hung on pegs next to a pair of washstands. Beyond that was another room, completely covered in white tile.

Two of the several showerheads were on, raining warm water on the nude, undulating bodies of McCreag and another man whom the onlooking heron men assumed was the cook, Gilbert, a black haired man whose body was well fleeced with ebon hair. Gilbert was enthusiastically fucking his companion, murmuring love to McCreag as they boisterously coupled. Phil urged Mark back and closed the door quietly on the wanton scene.

"I guess we'll have to wait... "

Phil was silenced by the sound of a door opening nearby. He and Mark heard two voices, getting louder as they approached.

"...am glad this day's done!" one voice began wearily.

"Come on, William, let's get you cleaned up."

"I certainly need it, after working in the gardens all day, but what I really need now is some private time with you, Winton, my love... mmm... "

The unmistakable sound of a kiss ended William's words. Phil and Mark were unable to escape and Winton and William, holding hands, came to the door of the bath and encountered the heron men. The flustered servants, who both appeared to be in their early twenties, let go of each other.

"Oh!" faltered one, a light brown haired man. "We didn't know anyone was here, sir." As he was the cleaner of the two, Phil surmised he was Winton.

"Obviously not," smiled Phil, trying to put them at ease. "We haven't met."

"I'm Winton, McCreag's assistant, and this is William, our gardener."

"I'm Phil Caddell, and this is my friend, Mark Nutley."

"H.. how do you do, milord." The gardener faltered, realizing Phil was the nephew of his employer's guest and another member of the English aristocracy. He was a handsome, stocky, blonde man, rather heavily bearded for his age. Phil thought at once how much William would attract Eben and smiled.

"Very well, William. And you don't have to 'milord' or 'sir' me while we're talking in private like this. I was outside earlier with one of my friends and I must say the grounds look superb. Do you take care of them all by yourself?"

"Mostly, er, Phil... Sometimes I hire a helper or two from the local village, but Sir Terrance prefers to leave most of the grounds around the house in a natural state. The remainder isn't big enough to keep two gardeners busy full time." William looked relieved by Phil's friendly words.

"Did you come to bathe, Phil?" asked Winton.

"Yes, but the shower is engaged."

"It's meant to hold several men at a time, Phil, if they've not shy."

"Oh, we're not shy. We just didn't want to disturb McCreag and Gilbert."

Wondering at Phil's words, Winton opened the door a crack and looked in; William craned his neck to see as well. Gilbert was still riding McCreag's ass furiously, going at it 'hammer and tongs' as some might say. After getting an eyeful of that, the mortified Winton closed the door, his face was pure crimson as he turned it to Phil.

"Sir... I... "

"Don't distress yourself," Phil soothed. "They're doing the same thing that Mark and I were planning on when we came down here. The same thing you and William wanted too, right?"

"You're 'so'? Like us?" managed William, wide-eyed with surprise.

"Yes," Phil said, putting an arm around Mark for emphasis. Winton grinned mischievously, making him look years younger.

"We join in with McCreag and Gilbert's games regularly," he explained. "Come in with us and we can all have some fun."

"That sounds like a very good idea, Winton," Phil agreed.

Winton reached for the door, but then hesitated. "Would your other companions be interested in joining us?"

"Yes, they would," Mark said, "I'll go get them."

"William?" Phil asked as Mark went off.

"Yes, Phil?"

"Our companion, Eben, gets quite aroused by blonde men like yourself, so don't be surprised if he wants to get friendly with you."

"I look forward to it, after I wash this dirt off."

"I'd like to help with that, if you don't mind," Phil smiled as he followed Winton and William into the steamy bathroom, which was about to get a whole lot more steamier...

Quite clean and very weary, the four heron men climbed the stairs and slipped into their rooms. Silently shedding their clothes, Phil and Mark were moving to get into bed when they heard voices. Tip-toeing over to the door between their room and Rupert's, they put their ears to it and overheard Terrance reaffirming his love for Rupert.

This surprised both the heron men, despite what the servants had shared with them as they all got to know one another better during their group encounter in the showers. It seemed Terrance knew all about his employees' tendencies towards mansex and asked only that they keep their recreational activities quiet. At a minimum, that was evidence the old knight was extraordinarily tolerate. But the ardent words Phil and Mark were hearing showed Terrance was quite a bit more than merely tolerate of same-sex love.

"...ever since our college days, when we were constantly together, at our books and board and bed. We three were closer than brothers, and I still feel great love for you, my dear Rupert, as does Clarence."

"I feel the same, I assure you. I'm glad you and Clarence understand my feelings towards Matilda and aren't jealous."

"Jealous!? We feel like uncles towards Thomas, and will spoil him rotten if you give us half a chance!"

"Will you come with us to London tomorrow?"

"Of course. Shall we stay with Clarence or go to your London house?"

"Oh, we can leave things to chance for the time being. But I have been away from Lionsgate for too long, I need to at least put in an appearance at the family mansion and make sure the servants have not allowed things to slide."

"I thought you trusted them completely. Clarence and I helped you find them, discreet men who... share our desires."

"I do. But they are still somewhat new at their jobs. Besides, I intend to ready a suite of rooms for Matilda and my son. It's time for them to enjoy the things their rank reserves for them."

"There is one thing I feel I ought to point out."

"What?"

"If you advertise your marriage and son, won't some see it as another reason why your mother would want to kill you? You yourself have told Clarence and I that Eberhardine would never accept your 'low-born' wife and child."

"I suppose, but as far as I know, Eberhardine never even knew about Matilda, so how could it make things worse?"

"You're right there I suppose. Well, I'm to bed. Sleep well, old friend."

"I'd sleep better if you'd cuddle with me."

"Alright," Terrance promptly agreed. "But it will be difficult for me to stop at just 'cuddling'." After some rustling noises, that told of clothing being shed and bedcovers moving, the knight went on. "It's too bad Clarence can't be here, so we could have a trio like in the old days... " More rustling, perhaps a kiss, then: "Egad, Rupert, that yard of yours gets bigger every time I see it! Here, let me... " The rest of what Terrance had to say was oddly muffled and the eavesdropping heron men imagined he had ducked under the bedcovers.

"Oh, Terrance... that feels so good... " sighed Rupert.

As a soft, slurping noise became audible and got louder, Phil and Mark grinned at each other.

"I guess that explains Terrance's choice of servants!" chortled Phil, softly.

"C'mon pard," Mark whispered, grabbing ahold of Phil's thick arm and pulling him towards the big bed, "I wanna suck on your 'yard' some too!"

"I hope I can accommodate you, after all the energy we worked off in the shower!"

"Soft or hard, I love havin' your cock in my mouth... or anywhere else it can fit, pard!"

In the gray predawn hours, Jack slipped silently into the manor house and had a chat with Phil and Mark. When Phil asked if Jack had seen that everyone in Terrance's house had the same natures as the heron men, he said he had, but he thought there were more important things to be concerned about. Such as Adrian Singleton.

"Did you learn anything more about him?" asked Mark.

"After I learned all I could from reading the mind of the spy at Lord St. Croix's house, I, er, made sure he wouldn't be spying for anyone, anymore. Then I went to the tavern where the spies used to meet with Adrian. I scanned the minds in the place thoroughly and though I found some who knew Adrian by sight, none of them knew him by that name."

"Can you show us what he looks like?"

"Sure." Jack projected the image he had gotten from the spy's mind into his friends' brains. He also planted it in the minds of Eben and Hun Tzu, who were peacefully sleeping in each others' arms in the next bedroom. Phil nodded.

"I don't recognize the man, but I'll stay on the alert for him."

"Good. Well, dawn's coming. I'd better get back to the spirit realm. I'll see you in London after sundown."

"Hopefully by then, Hun Tzu will have found a suitable tree to 'open' for us there," commented Mark.

"Yes. Thank you for your help, Jack."

"It was my pleasure," he said before going to the window. Jack easily dropped from the second story to the ground and vanished into the nearby woods. There was a brief shimmer of eldritch light amid the shadows of the trees as the portal to the spirit realm opened and closed.

"Well, shall we try to get some more sleep?" Phil asked his lover.

"I'd kinda like to take another shower with you," Mark returned with a grin.

"I'm sure that can be arraigned in the morning," Phil smiled back as he hugged his man to him lovingly.

Breakfast the next morning was served on a patio overlooking the orderly gardens that flowed down to the Thames, illustrating the name of Terrance's estate: Riverview. A steady procession of boats and watermen moved over the busy river, both up and downstream. Despite the growth of the railroads, the rivers and canals of England remained an important adjunct of trade.

Terrance sighed his love for the views his estate gave him and echoed the honest prejudice of every true Englishman that the Thames was the noblest river in Europe. Phil's friends were surprised to see their heron brother nodding in agreement along with his uncle. The Americans were treated to other peculiarly English convictions, such as 'one Englishman could whip three Frenchmen' or 'that as long as they took care of their fleet, England would never have a rival in the world', before breakfast was served.

Gilbert displayed his culinary art with extra gusto that morning. He stuffed his employer and his guests with juicy Bachelor's Omelets infused with savory herbs and mouth watering Welsh Rare-bit, small sandwiches of toasted bread stuffed with a molten, ambrosial mix of butter and fine Cheshire cheese. Those dishes were followed by a magnificent sweet with an odd name, an Apple Hedgehog, a sort of apple pie topped with meringue instead of a pastry crust.

Terrance was quite pleased but also mystified as to why his cook was so assiduous in pleasing his guests. The heron men just exchanged knowing smiles between themselves and McCreag as they remembered their shared shower of the previous evening. Obviously Gilbert was remembering it too.

There was also hot tea brewed from an exotic mixture of Chinese leaves which exhaled a delicate aroma. Hun Tzu congratulated Terrance on his taste, saying the Empress Tsze-Chi herself would feel at home there, drinking such fine tea. The men sipped this liquid perfume from fine, eggshell porcelain cups so thin they looked as if a harsh word would be enough to break them. The meal was concluded when McCreag brought out a bottle of elderberry wine and poured each man a small glass of the dark, pungent liquid.

"Ah!" Terrance began, "I almost forgot. My gardener William is also a brewer. He made this wine. A very old English traditional beverage, but not to everyone's taste."

"It's delicious," Mark affirmed as the others nodded their agreement.

It did not take long thereafter for the men to ready themselves for the journey to nearby London. William and Winton drove Sir Terrance's open carriage through a delightfully green country of open fields edged by lines of trees. At last they arrived at the village of Tender Bottom, a small but prosperous place whose houses were centered around a gray stone church that dated back to the Middle Ages.

Passing through a farmer's market, many of the people there greeted Terrance respectfully, some by name. Since his retirement to Riverview, the knight had been recognized as a leading member of the local gentry, and had taken part in the activities expected from his class. These included some positions of implied power, seeing that law and order were preserved in his neighborhood.

Soon the group reached the newest addition to the village. It was a small, but rather busy railway station on its western outskirts. After some heartfelt farewells, the servants returned to Terrance's estate, while the others boarded a train to London. Once they were settled in a private compartment, Phil spoke to his uncle.

"Rupert, I've been going over what you've told me about the attempt on your life. If Eberhardine did not do this, then someone else must have. Besides the servants, who else was at Swansgrave Manor when this happened?"

"My brother Constantine, of course, but the police established the fact that he retired to his study after dinner and did not stir forth until after I fell ill."

"Was there anyone else?"

"Count Hermann von Trompp, a great nephew of Eberhardine's, happened to be visiting. I understand he made himself an object of suspicion with his imperious Germanic manner, insisting the police had no right to question him. I believe he thought he had diplomatic immunity! Either that, or he thought the nobility of England enjoyed the same protections, if they can be called that, which German royalty possesses against ordinary police investigations."

"Did he have an alibi?"

"Yes. All Hermann's bluster just wasted the constables' time. It turned out that after dinner he went to his room and was engaged in writing a number of letters home. The servants whom he called in for some trifles saw what he was doing and testified as to the times, so it could not have been him."

"I see."

"There were just two others. Your cousin Orabella, and her husband, Reginald, Lord Eurstone, were also visiting Swansgrave Manor."

"And what were they doing during the time in question?"

"They went for a walk in the gardens after dinner. Entering a shrubbery maze, they became lost and separated. By the time they found their way out, they discovered the house in an uproar over what had happened to me."

"No other guests?"

"No."

"I see." Phil pondered a bit. He looked over at his heron brothers, then back to the two older gentlemen. "Do you trust me, Rupert?"

"Of course, my boy. Why?"

"There's something I want to share with you and Terrance, but I'm not at liberty to reveal my sources, not yet, at any rate. Is that acceptable?"

"Certainly. What is it?" Rupert asked as Terrance nodded in agreement.

"Does the name Adrian Singleton mean anything to either of you?"

"Not I," muttered Terrance after a few moments' reflection.

"I'm not sure," Rupert began, frowning. "It seems to me that I have heard that name somewhere before, but I can't place it... " Shaking his head, Rupert went on. "I'll check my copy of Burke's when we get to London. Since I've heard of him, and since the majority of my acquaintances are in Burke's, perhaps we'll get lucky and find his name among the 'landed gentry'!"

"I dare say if we asked, we could find a copy on this train," Terrance chuckled. "Burke's is considered a second Bible by some Englishmen."

"What do you suspect him of, Philip?" asked Rupert.

"I have reason to believe he may be connected to your poisoning in some way. I'm not sure how. What I do know is that he has been paying people to watch your movements during your recuperation. Don't worry, we're not being spied upon now." Phil added when he saw his older companions' reactions to his news.

"Oh?" Rupert growled, gripping his heavy stick. "Show me this cad, Philip! After my Penang lawyer has a few words with his back, we'll find out what he knows!"

"We can't take the law into our own hands. Let me investigate this my way."

"Very well, Philip," Rupert grumped. "But if I should encounter this fellow on the street... Well, the bounder had best be faster than I am to avoid my stick!"

Just before noon, they arrived at a depot in the western part of London. Rupert went with Phil to their family's bank, the main branch of which was conveniently placed nearby. The solid marble structure, as squat and formal as any Roman temple might have been, had 'Swan's Trust' engraved deeply into the stonework above the wide bronze doors. Mark knew about Phil's financial status, of course, but Hun Tzu and Eben were astounded when they realized the extent of the wealth Phil controlled, as a member of the family who had founded and still owned the bank, one of the richest private financial institutions in England.

Rupert made sure the managers met his nephew. Phil was, after all, one of their bosses. He was a nominal member of the board of governors of the bank, as were all male members of the Caddell family, by family compact. Phil had once offered his opinion that his cousin Orabella ought to have a similar position, but his uncles had assured him that such a suggestion would never be considered seriously, and would harm Phil's reputation to boot. Women's rights were not yet a popular idea in England, despite the fact that a queen reigned.

Rupert also wanted to make sure his nephew would be recognized and allowed to draw on his personal accounts. Except for Phil's occasional withdrawals made through the Oceanic Bank of Oregon, his accounts had lain virtually dormant for over a decade, accumulating interest and annual allowances. After examining his accounts, Phil found himself the possessor of a sizable fortune, enough for him to buy his own country estate anywhere in England, had he wished to.

Phil made a withdrawal and pressed some of the money he received on each of his heron brothers, telling them they would need it. They studied the gold sovereigns and other coins curiously, trying to comprehend the non-decimal monetary system, where each pound coin was worth 20 shillings, and each shilling was worth 12 pence. Since a pound was worth about five dollars of American money, they could think of the shillings as roughly equal to quarters for judging the cost of things.

Since the London residence of the Caddell family had been built not far from the main branch of their bank, the men decided to walk to it. They strolled down a quiet, cobbled street shaded by stately elms and lined with fancy mansions owned by families like the Caddells, whose chief homes and estates were far from London, necessitating a house 'in town'. Rupert seemed in high spirits and Terrance whispered to Phil that he was the reason for it. Phil was tempted to protest that Terrance's tender nursing, especially the kind he and Mark had overheard occurring the previous night, had also had a positive effect on his uncle, but he let the opportunity pass.

The Caddells' mansion, called Swan's Ease, was built partly of the same marble blocks used to construct their bank. The foundation, corners and window edgings of gleaming white stone contrasted starkly with the dark, ruddy brick that filled in the spaces between the marble. Rupert proceeded unhesitatingly through the open, ornate iron gates, guarded by a pair of rampant, petrified lions, across the granite paved driveway, up the wide marble front steps and rang the bell. Phil glanced around and brought Hun Tzu's attention to a couple of large oaks in the adjoining gardens. The geomancer nodded in silent agreement as one of the large pair of front doors, great panels of polished oak, ponderously opened.

"Sir!" a young man cried when he saw Rupert.

"Don't be so surprised, Peter," the Squire of Swansgrave smiled as he and the others entered the foyer. Open skylights allowed sunbeams to play over gleaming parquet floors and polished wood walls. A pair of antique Roman statues, senators elaborately enrobed in their togas, stood guard in well lit niches on either side of the entrance.

"But we had no word from you... we weren't expecting... "

"Calm yourself, my boy. These gentlemen will be staying for awhile. Please alert Alistare and see that all the bedrooms are made ready."

"Yes sir."

Rupert glanced at Phil. "Alistare is my housekeeper and chief of staff here at Lionsgate. See him for anything you or your companions need." Phil nodded and Rupert turned back to Peter. "I'd also like you to see this note is delivered to Lord St. Croix," Rupert said as he took the message he had written during his train ride from a pocket and put it in Peter's hand. "Please do that as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir."

"Ask the cook to make us some lunch. We'll be going out again as soon as we eat."

"I'm sorry sir, not knowing you were coming, Alistare gave Francis the day off."

"In that case I hope Edgar didn't go off with Francis. I'll be needing my coachman."

"Oh, he's here sir. Shall I have him bring the coach around?"

"Yes, do that." Rupert turned to his companions as Peter ran to deliver his orders. "Leave your bags here. Peter will take care of them. We'll go to Bicton's for lunch, then go to see my solicitor. After that we can visit Clarence and Matilda."

"Edgar will be right around sir," Peter said breathlessly as he ran back to his employer. "Shall I take care of these bags sir?"

"Yes, but first I have to ask, have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around the house lately?"

"Why, no, I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Why sir?"

"I have good reason to believe someone is spying on me and my friends."

"Not someone connected with what happened to you?!" Peter exclaimed in a worried voice.

"Very possibly. They might be looking for a way to finish the job."

"Oh, sir! Should you be out in public then?" Peter asked in concern. It was clear he cared deeply for his employer. Eben and Hun Tzu recalled what Phil had shared with them, that Rupert's servants shared their man-loving natures. Like those who served Terrance, and Lord St. Croix as well, those men were deeply grateful to the peers for providing them with a safe place to live and work and be themselves in their off hours, insuring their utter loyalty.

"I assure you, it's alright, Peter. This is my nephew, Philip, whom I've mentioned to you before. He and his American friends are going to protect me until we get to the bottom of this sordid affair." A coach rumbled to a stop before the front steps. "Peter, will Francis be back in time to make us dinner?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Well tell him we were feasted royally by his friend Gilbert, so he'd better be prepared to lay an equal table for my friends. And don't forget to have that note delivered."

"I won't sir. Sir, there's something else."

"What, Peter?"

"A letter sir, from your brother. It arrived today and I was going to send it on to Riverview. But since you're here... " Peter handed the missive over without finishing his sentence.

"Thank you, Peter," responded Rupert as he took the envelope. "Come, gentlemen. Our lunch awaits."

As they climbed into the coach, Mark asked Terrance what Rupert meant by his orders to Francis. Terrance explained that the two cooks had a friendly rivalry going and that, no doubt, Francis would have a surprise or two for Rupert's guests when he got to show off his cookery for them. Rupert gave Edgar an address on William III Street and they were off.

Phil smiled when he heard the street name and Mark asked why. Phil explained that King William III was reputed to have been 'so' and was criticized for ennobling his male lovers, though James I had done the same and many of Charles II's bastards had received titles. One of William's friends, whom the king created Earl of Albemarle, was so notorious that his house, which the king visited often, was widely known as the 'Chateau de Derriere'.

Meanwhile, Rupert opened and perused his letter. He informed the others that his brother Constantine, the current Baron of Swansgrave, had written to ask if Rupert was strong enough to be at the upcoming trial. Constantine was hoping the entire family would be there to make a strong show of support for their matriarch. The squire said he felt up to it and Phil readily agreed to be there as well.

The busy streets of London seemed remarkably clean, given the vast numbers of horsedrawn vehicles the men saw from their windows. A few streetsweepers were spotted, individual units of the army that worked ceaselessly to keep the crowded streets of the Empire's capital from overflowing with manure. At length, they reached Bicton's, an upscale restaurant of renown, and the coach stopped to allow its occupants to alight upon the sidewalk.

Edgar took the squire's carriage over to a reserved area that a later era would know as a 'parking lot'. There he would check his horses and harnesses while chatting with the other idle drivers. Phil looked at Terrance as they entered the restaurant.

"Unless my memory fails me, I recall that Bicton's is famous for it's beef."

"Your memory does not fail you." Terrance affirmed. "And you'll find their ribs to be superb."

The maitre d', recognizing Rupert, showed his party to a table that allowed them an unobstructed view of the street. And conversely showed his distinguished visitors off to anyone passing by. After all the sensational press the Caddell family had gotten, Rupert's presence in the establishment was sure to be talked about and draw others there.

Sipping glasses of fine Bordeaux from the Chateau de Palus, the Englishmen guided their American friends through the menu which was printed in French. Eventually, they got their orders sorted out. When Mark's sirloin was brought to him, Phil entertained the others with the amusing legend of how the cut of beef got its name.

"It is related by old authorities that our 'merrie monarch', King Charles II of happy memory, once visited a manor called Friday Hall, near the town of Chingford. He returned from the chase in nearby Epping Forest literally 'hungry as a hunter'. In this state, he went into dinner and beheld with delight an enormous loin of beef, done to a turn and steaming upon the dining hall table.

"'A noble joint!' exclaimed the king. 'By St. George, it shall have a title!' Drawing his sword, he raised it above the meat and cried, with mock dignity, 'Loin, we dub thee knight. Henceforth be Sir Loin!'

"Now some spoilsports say this never really happened and the word 'sirloin' is a corruption of the French term for the cut of meat. But Friday Hall still stands. And it shelters a large oak table upon which the remarkable joint was supposed to have received its ennoblement from the royal hands of King Charles."

After finishing their meal, they left the restaurant and signaled for Edgar to bring the carriage over. A man approached the group as they waited. Mark saw him first, and remembering the spies Jack had discovered, moved to intercept him.

"What do you want?" Mark demanded.

"I'm Stanley Waterton, a reporter for the Times. Is that the Squire of Swansgrave?"

"Yes, and I doubt he wants to speak to you."

"Are you his bodyguard?"

"One of many," affirmed Mark.

"Is there a problem?" asked Phil, coming over.

"I'm a reporter for the Times," repeated Stanley. "I was hoping I might have a word with his lordship."

"I'm sorry, but my uncle is still recovering from his ordeal, and does not have the stamina for an interview right now."

"Uncle? May I ask your name, sir?"

Phil managed in a few words to give the reporter a portion of what he wanted while his party waited for Edgar. After the group left, Stanley went into Bicton's and gleaned some more information from the maitre d', who was pleased to tell all he knew, as long as it got a mention of his restaurant in the papers.

After arraigning with his solicitor to make public the news about his wife and son, and give Phil access to the police reports concerning his grandmother's supposed crime, Rupert and his companions went on to Lord St. Croix's home. It was a venerable mansion in the northern suburbs, located just beyond the bounds of the old medieval walls of London, ivy-covered and surrounded by mature apple, cherry and pear trees which no doubt had inspired the estate's name: Fruitwood. The owner of the property was waiting for his guests as they drew up, showing that Peter had seen to delivering Rupert's note.

"Clarence!" Terrance greeted him, embracing.

"Terrance! And Rupert! It's so good to see you again! Welcome to my home! Please come in!" he urged, amid much hugging and handshaking and exchanging of names. They entered yet another grand hall where marble gleamed and polished wood shone as Clarence turned to his old friend Rupert. "Matilda and Thomas are waiting for you in the parlor," he informed the squire. "We'll give you three some time alone."

"Thank you, dear friend," returned Rupert. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said to the rest as he went to a door off the hallway.

The others followed Clarence into his sumptuous library and chatted for awhile. When their host mentioned he had something private to discuss with Terrance, Phil and his fellow heron men excused themselves to take a walk around the grounds of Fruitwood.

It did not take long for Hun Tzu to find a suitable tree and open it, making it a doorway into the spirit realm. Phil told the others he felt that since Rupert was safe with friends for the time being, he wanted to make a brief visit to Swansgrave Manor, the Caddell family estate. He hoped to find out what he could about the crime there.

The others agreed to his plan, but Eben pointed out that they ought to have Jack with them. His telepathic gifts would quickly sort out the situation there. They waited for Hun Tzu to go into the spirit realm and let Jack know about the new portal, as well as their decision to take a night train from London as soon as he arrived.

When the geomancer returned, he had a counter proposal from Jack. In order to save time, their heron brother thought they should go on ahead and when they got to the manor, open a tree there so Jack could join them at nightfall. Agreeing to his suggestion, the others started back to the house. Terrance and Clarence appeared to meet them on a brick patio.

"Terrance has told me of your suspicions, Philip," Clarence informed him. "I've ordered my servants to keep a sharp lookout for anyone who seems to be hanging around without good reason."

"That's a good idea, Clarence," agreed Phil.

"We also had a look through Burke's," Terrance added. "There's no 'Adrian Singleton' mentioned in it."

"Which proves he's no gentleman, whoever he is!" growled Clarence. "If this cad did have something to do with Rupert's poisoning, I'll see him prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for what he did to my friend!"

"I'd like to say I'm glad I'm not the only one who holds my uncle in such high esteem," Phil responded. He gestured at his companions. "My friends and I are planning to visit Swansgrave Manor. I want to see the scene of the crime for myself. I hope you'll keep an eye on Rupert and his family while we're gone."

"Of course," agreed Terrance. "When will you be back?"

"I don't expect my investigations will take long. We'll return by the morning train tomorrow."

"You'll have to go back to Lionsgate to collect your bags," Terrance pointed out.

"I'll put my coach at your disposal, Philip," began Clarence. "My driver Stephen will take care of you."

And he did. Phil was not the only heron man who noticed the way Stephen deferred to Phil and was attentive to his needs. Mark joked easily about it as they rode along. He said it was a good thing he and his partner followed the Way of the Heron, without jealousy, or else he would be constantly exhausted from fighting all the fellows off who were attracted to Phil.

Pausing at Lionsgate long enough to get their bags and allow Hun Tzu to open another tree in a remote part of the grounds there, the heron men proceeded on. Stephen left them at the depot, after making sure there was nothing more he could do for Phil or his friends. Phil made the driver smile by assuring him his services would be required again, and soon.

The train ride was uneventful, unlike what awaited them in Lingfield, the closest town to the Caddell estate. The station platform seemed far more crowded and busy than normal. Phil frowned at all the unwonted activity and summoned a conductor.

"What is all this? Has Lingfield become a metropolis?"

"No, sir. Ever since the sensational happenings at Swansgrave Manor, the town has become the headquarters of the newspapermen who are reporting on the story. It's brought a lot of new business to the town."

"I see," Phil muttered, tugging on his long beard as he thought quickly. "Does this train stop at Croglin Grange?"

"Yes sir."

"My companions and I were getting off here, but I'd rather not deal with that crowd," Phil began, gesturing to the hurly-burly going on beyond the windows of their compartment. "How much to upgrade our tickets to Croglin Grange?"

The conductor calculated and Phil paid him. Taking his seat again, he told his heron brothers about a little used 'back door' to his family's estate, a short way from Croglin Grange, the next stop on the railway. Phil hoped it had remained overlooked by the hoard of reporters that had descended upon the area.

Luck was with them, and as the train pulled out, leaving them alone on the platform of the small railway station, the men took in the sleepy village of Croglin Grange almost with a single glance. The tiny hamlet looked to be not much bigger than the town of False Pass. It was nestled in a forest broken only by the railroad right of way and a road that ran north to Lingfield and south to the nearby Sussex border and beyond.

Children played games on the village green while some chickens pecked around the perimeter, followed by a dozen or so yellow chicks. Fat ducks swam about lazily in an old millpond and a number of black piglets snored in a nearby sty, ripening slowly in the sun. As an example of rustic English domesticity, Croglin Grange could scarcely be improved upon.

Phil led his companions into the village's stone church, which appeared to be quite old. That surmise was confirmed when Phil pointed out several curiously wrought brass plaques set in the walls. They proved upon inspection to commemorate the lives of some of Phil's earliest ancestors. Mark was not the only one who read the dates on the tarnished metal markers in mild dismay.

"These folks lived almost a thousand years ago, pard!"

"Yes. I told you my family is an old one. These people lived near here, at a former Saxon stronghold, Tyrshall, that was established on the site of an old Roman fort. It was the seat of my family until the Tudors came to power, about 400 years ago."

After that, the heron men left the church and started to follow an old rutted track that branched off the main road from Croglin Grange to Lingfield. As they trekked deeper into the English woods, which looked as wild and untouched as those in the valley of the heron, Phil began to tell his friends the story of his family's founding. Not far to the south, he informed them, was the town of Battle, which began as a chapel built to honor the dead who fell in the Battle of Hastings, which ended the Anglo-Saxon Wessex dynasty that had ruled England for over three hundred years.

The victorious Normans marched north from that point to invest London, but smaller parties of men ranged to the east and west of the main army searching for victuals and easy plunder. The commander of one of the latter, whom old records called 'Sir Roger le Katel' became separated from his men. Following a forest trace he stumbled onto, he chanced upon a Saxon lady, whose fine clothing gave notice of her apparently high rank, out pleasure riding with her chaplain.

Fortunately the sight of a man in full battle array did not frighten the pair and they stopped when he greeted them. The lady and the chaplain both knew Roger's tongue, and they conversed. Roger was at once smitten with the Saxon lass, whose name was Aelfswinda, so he apprehensively awaited their reaction to his news that the king of the English, Harold II, had fallen in battle only the day before, and the victor, his lord, Duke William of Normandy, was at that moment riding to London to claim the throne of England.

When they had gotten over their shock, Aelfswinda asked what Roger was doing there. He told the truth, that he was the captain of a foraging party, looking for supplies. The lady bid him follow her and they returned to Tyrshall.

As Aelfswinda began giving orders to her servants, the chaplain explained to Roger that she was mistress of all the Norman knight could see around him, her father having recently died. As a woman alone however, Aelfswinda was under great pressure to marry and some of her father's relatives had sent their sons to woo her, but the lady would have none of them. Because of that, they had begun threatening her.

Roger instantly offered Aelfswinda his protection. She accepted it gratefully, gesturing toward some carts being laden with food. She asked for the knight's escort back to William's camp, so she could present her tribute to the duke without worrying about being waylaid by another Norman foraging party.

They reached the spot where the duke had camped for the evening safely and Aelfswinda saluted William as her king, offering her gifts and asking for his protection against her kin, who were seeking to take her property from her. The lady also asked that he reward Roger, for he had treated her with proper respect and great chivalry. William noted the way Roger was looking at the noblewoman and commented that he was not the only one who had made a conquest that day.

Recognizing a potential public relations coup, William agreed to take Aelfswinda under his protection and made sure his magnanimous treatment of the helpless Saxon heiress was spread abroad. He also made Roger responsible for the lady's safety, a task the smitten knight accepted gratefully. Aelfswinda accompanied William to London and helped him deal with the divided and fretful Saxon nobles, who did not know what to expect from their Norman conquerors, but were clearly impressed by his mercy towards Aelfswinda.

As thanks for helping smooth his way into power, William married Aelfswinda off to Roger in London and created the knight Baron of Swansgrave. The new king added to Aelfswinda's estates by attaching properties to it forfeited by owners who continued to fight against the Normans. Eventually, the couple found themselves overseeing a great part of southeastern Surrey, almost as joint military governors, for Roger had by then realized his wife was a formidable woman, a spiritual descendant of the old British warrior-queens.

While Roger was out putting down minor rebellions with his troops, Aelfswinda was making sure the peasants who lived on their lands were being treated fairly, so they would have no reason to rebel. This cooperation established a firm foundation for the barony. Roger and Aelfswinda's descendants were wise enough to continue those policies, down to the present day, so that there were few families more respected in Surrey than the Caddells.

As Phil's story came to an end, Hun Tzu spotted an enormous oak within sight of the trace they followed. The geomancer paused long enough to make the tree a portal into the spirit realm and then went through to let Jack know of it. After Hun Tzu returned, the group went on and came to the top of a gentle rise where they saw a small farmstead, set on the edge of a great patchwork of fields.

"This is our gamekeeper's house," Phil explained as he moved towards it. "The Tyrell family has lived here for at least two hundred years, overseeing and conserving the hunting grounds of the Caddell estate."

Phil knocked at the door and a sweet faced elderly woman answered it.

"Alice?" Phil asked.

"Yes, I'm Alice Tyrell. Who are you?"

"I know it's been a long time, Alice, but I'm Philip Caddell. I used to play in the woods with your son, Albert, and you used to scold us both roundly when we came back for dinner covered with dirt!"

"Oh, Philip!" she gasped. "I thought you were in America!"

"I've come back to help my uncle Rupert. We, my friends and I, came in the back way, from Croglin Grange, because of all the reporters in Lingfield."

"Oh, those horrid newsmen!" Alice began. "Albert, his brother John and their father are helping the other servants guard the main gate so they can't get in."

"I'm surprised no one is guarding the back way."

"Very few know of it and it's rarely used. Oh! Where are my manners? Please come in and have some tea, gentlemen."

"I'm afraid we don't have time," Phil said, casting a calculating glance at the angle of the sun. "We need to get to the main house. I want to see the scene of the crime for myself."

"Oh Philip! It's so awful what happened! Your poor grandmother has been overcome by it all and refuses to stir from her rooms."

"What are the people saying, Alice? Do they believe Eberhardine did this?"

"It's so true what they say, that bad times prove who your friends are. People whom we thought devoted to the Caddell family have denounced the dowager baroness to the press, telling all kinds of horrid stories! I know those newsmen have tempted people with money to get what they want, but... " Phil took the upset woman's hand and patted it.

"There, there, Alice. Don't distress yourself." Phil glanced back the way he and his companions had come. "I know the back way is little known, but I'll see your husband and sons are sent back here to watch it. I don't like the idea of your being alone here, with all this madness going on."

"Thank you. I didn't want to worry them, but I was wondering what I would do if reporters showed up here."

"I'm sorry if we frightened you."

"I wasn't frightened, Philip. I have my husband's shotgun right here and I know how to use it!"

"It sounds like you ought to be guarding the front gate!" laughed Phil.

"And let my husband do the cooking?" she replied in horror. "He'd poison us all... Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that!"

"It's alright, Alice, just a slip of the tongue. We have to get on. Take care."

"You too, Philip. It's good to have you back. I know Albert will be glad. He was so upset after you left, because you two were such great friends."

Phil paused. "How is Albert? Is he well?"

"Yes. He and his brother have taken over nearly all their father's duties as gamekeeper, though your uncle Constantine hunts very little."

"I see. Well, farewell, Alice."

"Goodbye, Philip."

As they walked away from the farmstead, Mark noted the pensive look on his lover's face. He spoke, guessing at its cause.

"Was Albert special to you, pard?"

"Yes," he said, taking Mark's hand. "Albert was my first love, and I was his. We explored these woods and found hiding places where no one could disturb us while we learned how to make each other feel good. I was sorry to have to leave him when I went off to boarding school and college. I asked if I could take him with me as my servant, but the idea was laughed at, since Albert knew nothing of the duties of a gentleman's man."

"So you were separated."

"Yes. I told Albert to find someone else... " Phil shook his head. "He probably hates me now."

"How could anyone hate someone as lovable as you?" Mark grinned, trying to cheer Phil up. "When you go lookin' for trouble, pard, you usually find it. So don't worry. Didn't Alice say she thought her boy would be glad to see you?"

"Yes, she did... "

"And if he wants to get frisky with you again, you go right ahead, pard. Maybe he'll like me too and we can all three of us have a good time!"

"You!" snorted Phil. "I love you."

"And I love you. So don't worry."

"Okay," Phil sighed as the road they followed began to show signs of greater use. As more trees crowded in to shade their path again, gravel fill crunched plaintively under their boots. The men reached another rise and stopped to take in the view beyond.

"Is that it?" pointed Eben.

"Damn!" Mark muttered.

Phil did not have to tell his heron brothers that they had reached their destination. Swansgrave Manor dominated a nearby hilltop, a huge stone structure wrought in lilac-gray granite. The seat of the Barons of Swansgrave was ornamented in a restrained Renaissance style that avoided an air of ostentation. Despite its size, there was something in its proportions that prevented it from being intimidating and inspired an atmosphere of calm majesty.

The beautiful gardens that surrounded the home of the Caddell family helped with that, ennobling the great manor even more. A pair of parallel lanes paved with white crushed stone were connected at intervals by circles and ellipses filled with statues, fountains and flowers, all flowing down a gentle slope from the grand entrance towards the road to Lingfield. At the point where the lanes converged before going on to a great, ornate iron gate, colored gravels had been used to create a large image of the heraldic device of the Caddell family. Above it, a truly remarkable monumental object stood, pointing imperatively to the cornflower blue sky.

"What in jumpin' Jehoshaphat is that!?" Mark pointed, voicing an astonishment felt by his fellows.

"It's a genuine Egyptian obelisk, set up originally by the Pharaoh Rameses II in Thebes, or so the scholars who can read the writing carved on it tell us," explained Phil with a smile. "When my great grandfather was laying out the grounds around the manor, a friend of his who had been in Egypt suggested he get one as a monumental decoration. There was a time when such things could be bought from the Egyptians and transported here with relatively few problems. Many English countryhouses of the nobility can boast of having similar embellishments brought from foreign sources."

"Is that another house?" pointed Eben. The others looked to see an ample, dark brick structure set among trees at the far edge of the wide grounds, opposite their position, perhaps a half mile or more away.

"Yes. That is the house reserved for the Squire of Swansgrave, the heir to the estate. If Rupert had wished, he could have lived there."

"But he didn't want his mom buggin' him about gettin' married again," Mark opined.

"Nor did he want to live there without Matilda," added Phil.

"I see the guards Alice spoke of," Hun Tzu pointed.

Looking in the direction the geomancer indicated, the heron men could see sentries armed with guns posted behind the iron gate and along the stone wall it was set in.

Beyond the gate could be seen a small crowd. Phil guessed they were reporters, camped out and waiting for any new developments. He looked back at the home he had not seen for many years and sighed, feeling mixed emotions.

"Well, let's go."

"Phil?" Hun Tzu began. "Wait. Look at this."

Not far from where they stood, where the forest ended and the manicured grounds began, was a spot of torn up ground. It looked out of place and there were lots of footprints around it. Hun Tzu squatted and pointed out a plant.

"What is it?"

"Wolfsbane. There's another. Phil, this must be the patch Rupert told you about, the one the police found and thought the poison came from."

Phil agreed and the four men looked it over. But there seemed to be little new to learn from the ravaged patch and they left it to go on the great house. As they approached their goal, they followed paths that weaved sinously through beds of vibrant color and subtle fragrances.

At one point they passed a circle of rose bushes, all bearing deep, almost bloody looking blossoms whose scent imbued the air. In the center was a stone pedestal which bore a marble faun, forever frozen in the midst of a dance. The face of the image was happy and he had his pipe raised to the sky in a joyous flourish, playing a soundless tune into the fragrant air. Hun Tzu smiled when he saw it and Eben, noticing it, asked why.

"I was just imagining he was playing the song of the heron," the geomancer smiled.

"That statue has an interesting legend attached to it," began Phil, pausing. "It's said that it originally stood in a rose garden at Hever Castle, where King Henry VIII wooed his second wife, Anne Boleyn. If only it could tell us what it overheard when those famous lovers were together!"

"Didn't you tell me ol' Henry ended up choppin' off her head?" asked Mark.

"'True love's course ne'er runs smoothly'," Phil quoted with a chuckle. "Or so some poets would have us believe."

"I'll remember that the next time I see you choppin' firewood, pard!" grinned Mark. "And give you a wide berth!"

Continuing on, the heron men arrived at the mansion's impressive entrance, reached by a staircase crafted of incomparable Carrara marble. Mounting the wide steps, Phil pulled on the bell by the portal forcefully. At length, one of a pair of massive oak doors bound in bronze swung ponderously open and a servant in green and white livery blinked curiously at the group.

"Yes sir?"

"I am Philip Caddell. Please inform my uncle Constantine I have arrived."

"Very good, sir... " the servant looked past them at the empty gravel lane questioningly. "Where is the coach?"

"Coach?"

"Yes sir. We received a telegram from Squire Rupert in London, advising us of your visit, so we sent the coach to the train station to meet you."

"I didn't know. After witnessing the tumult in Lingfield, I decided to go on to Croglin Grange. We walked from there through the game preserve to get here."

"Philip?" another voice began. The servant withdrew quickly, giving way to an older man. Despite his long, full grey beard, he bore a striking resemblance to both Rupert and Phil. He stepped out onto the marble landing and gripped Phil's shoulders joyously. "Philip! It's so good to see you! I heard what you said to Cavanaugh. Did anyone see you? Were you followed?"

"I doubt it, but I pity anyone who tries it. Mrs. Tyrell is keeping her shotgun ready!" replied Phil with a smile as he hugged his uncle to him.

"Ha! Good woman! I should have married her myself!"

"I think you should let her husband and sons help her guard our back door, though."

"I'll do that Philip. thank you for bringing it to my attention." The baron looked at Phil's companions. "Are these friends of yours?"

"Lord Swansgrave, allow me to introduce my American friends, who were good enough to accompany me here. This Eben Hale, Mark Nutley and Ch'a Hun Tzu."

"You can call me Constantine," he insisted as he shook their hands. "Rupert's message said you would be leaving tomorrow. Must you go so soon?"

"Until we find out who poisoned Rupert, I think I and my friends should guard him, in case there's another attempt."

Constantine looked relieved. "So you don't think your grandmother did this vile thing?"

"No. But I wanted to see the scene of the crime for myself."

"Of course, come in. Cavanaugh, take their bags to the guest rooms. Are you hungry?"

"Perhaps something to drink, after that long hike from Croglin Grange."

"Certainly. I'll have tea brought to us in the library."

As Phil spoke they entered the grand entrance hall. Phil knew it well, so its opulence made no impression on him. But his companions were quite stunned. Eben whispered to Hun Tzu.

"Terrance's whole house could fit in here!"

Like Riverview, the floors were covered with marble. But so were the walls, stairs and railings. Pieces of white stone had been carved, polished and fitted together like woodwork, up as far as three stories, it seemed. The odd, oblong dome that appeared to float magically above it all was gilded and elaborately painted. A bevy of naked nymphs cavorted shamelessly around its edge, some gazing down brazenly at the nonplussed heron men as they exhibited their feminine charms to no avail.

The visitors followed Constantine into his study, where every bit of the woodwork, from bookshelves and wall paneling to chairs, tables and a great, massive desk, was executed in rich, deep red Honduran mahogany, polished to a high shine. After calling for tea, the baron told his nephew what he knew. Later they were shown the room Rupert had occupied and the place where Eberhardine said she left the soup unattended, in the servants' access hallway. Phil noted that anyone might have come and gone in that space, as there were doors everywhere.

"That's what I told the police," Constantine agreed. "This area was made to give the servants or anyone else easy access to the whole house. And that, of course, works both ways. An observant outsider would soon figure out how to get from one part of the manor to another quickly and unobtrusively by detouring through here."

They went on to see where the other guests had been, the room where Baron von Trompp wrote his letters and then outside to see the shrubbery maze where Lord and Lady Eurstone had gotten lost. Mounting a step ladder left by one of the gardeners, Phil and the others got an overview of the large and complex living construct in the last light of day. The setting sun cast ruddy light as well as long shadows over everything.

"Well, I sure could get lost in there," Mark admitted after he had his look.

"Is that a greenhouse?" pointed Eben. The glass structure he indicated was framed in slender beams of fancy ironwork and multisided to the point of looking, at first glance, as if it were round.

"Yes, a favorite place of mine to relax in," the baron began. "I try my hand at raising tropical plants. Come in and see them."

"Didn't you build this after seeing the Crystal Palace exhibition?" asked Phil.

"Yes. I was inspired by the new techniques in metalworking and consulted with an architect to design this. As far as I know, it is unique. The locals are calling it 'Caddell's Carousel'."

They entered and were at once enveloped by hot, moisture laden air. Constantine pointed out his favorite plants. There were many varieties of Caladiums, with thick, hairy stems and oversized, heart-shaped leaves. The latter presented a wide range of colors and patterns. Many looked artificial, as if brightly painted metal had been stamped out in the shape of their leaves. Some were a pale pink-white, others so dark a purple it looked as if blood was flowing through their veins.

Mark was intrigued by a small trellis which supported a vine covered with tiny, blood red flowers. A nearby tag read 'Antigonon leptopus'. When asked about it, Constantine identified the vine as a native of the Philippines, commonly called 'Cadena de Amor', or 'Chain of Love.' When the baron's attention turned away, Mark playfully twisted a tendril of the plant around his fingers and took Phil's hand.

"You want to tie me up with this?" whispered Phil.

"We're already bound by chains of love, pard," Mark replied, making his lover smile.

"Milord?"

The group looked to see the servant that had greeted Phil.

"Yes, Cavanaugh?"

"Dinner is served."

"I hope you gentlemen are hungry," the baron smiled. "I understand the cook has something special for us, brought in by my gamekeepers after it was learned you were on your way here, Phillip."

As they headed back to the manor, Mark licked his lips in anticipation and Phil noted it. He grinned at his lover's newly acquired taste for fine food, before turning to the baron. "We won't be able to dress for dinner, uncle. These are the only clothes we brought."

"Oh, that's alright. I had quite enough of formal dinners while our cousin, Baron von Trompp, was here! Those Germans are such sticklers for ceremony and pomp. I wonder if they realize their craving for it suggests insecurity to others?"

"Will grandmother be joining us?"

"No. But she'd like to speak to you, Philip."

"I want to see her too. It has been over ten years."

"I'll have Cavanaugh hold dinner for a bit and we can go see her now."

"Alright... " Phil was distracted by a touch on his shoulder. "Excuse me a moment." He dropped back to whisper with Eben.

"Jack just got here," Eben informed Phil. The big man glanced at the horizon and saw the sun had set while they were touring the greenhouse. "He says he will scan the minds of everyone here and let us know what he learns later." Eben went on.

"We can all take a walk together after dinner and talk. I'm going to see my grandmother now."

"We heard." Eben addressed Hun Tzu and Mark. "Shall we have a seat here in the gardens and enjoy the view until Phil is done visiting with his grandmother?"

"Sure," Hun Tzu agreed, finding a bench set next to rose bush covered with creamy orange blooms.

Mark managed to give Phil's hand a quick, surreptitious squeeze. When Phil looked at him, the black haired cowboy mouthed 'I love you'. Exchanging grins, they separated. Phil followed his uncle into the manor and Mark turned to find a seat, but was distracted by a new sight.

"Holy... " he breathed, spotting a burly, good-looking man among a group of others who had appeared at the far corner of the manor, at the servants' entrance.

"What?" asked Eben, having picked up the soft exclamation with his sharp hearing as he and Hun Tzu both looked in the same direction. Hun Tzu smiled.

"I think our brother is in love."

"Not with all of them I hope!" Eben chortled.

"No!" snorted Mark, pointing. "See that big guy with the red hair and beard? He's got his hand on that older man's shoulder next to him."

"Oh yes... " Hun Tzu murmured. "Very nice... It looks like he has a brother as well."

"Yes," Eben said, cocking a sensitive ear towards the group. "It's a group of guards who were relieved and have come to get their supper. He's telling his father and brother that he wants to stay at the manor... oh, I lost him." Eben admitted as the guards all went inside.

"Looks like they have dining rooms for their servants, too."

"I knew being rich was supposed to be pleasant," Eben began, taking in his exceptional surroundings again, "but I had no idea it could be like this!"

"It makes me feel humble," Mark admitted to his friends. "Knowin' Phil chose me over all this, it's... well, it's humblin'!" he finished, unable to further articulate his feelings.

"If we believe in the Way of the Heron," began Hun Tzu, "we must believe that love is preferable to all things." He looked around also and sighed. "But I'm afraid few would agree with that ideal after seeing all this. It is very tempting."

After chatting for another fifteen minutes or so, Cavanaugh appeared to ask them inside. They found Phil, Constantine and the baron's wife, Dorothea, whom they greeted. Dorothea, they later learned, had not been present the night of Rupert's poisoning. The baroness had been in Lingfield meeting with some of the local church officials as they went over the poor lists and decided what could be done for the less fortunate members of their community.

The diners took their chairs, each richly upholstered in dark violet velvet with the Caddell arms embroidered on the backrests, in a richly appointed dining room. Like the baron's study, the chamber and its furnishings were wrought entirely from one type of wood, in this case an exotic one, Brazilian kingwood, the dark brown color of which was enlivened by a curious purple sheen evoked by candlelight. That same light lit the long, elegant table they occupied. Crystal and china and silver objects and utensils shone and sparkled where they rested on spotless white linen.

More liveried servants appeared and poured an aperitif of dubonnet for the diners. Their appetites whetted, another round of fine French red wine followed, glasses of rich, dark Bordeaux claret, served with steaming bowls of game soup, which set the tone of the meal. After that came small pastry tarts stuffed with sliced hare and vegetables in a thick, succulent gravy. As that course was taken away, strangely thick plates were placed before the diners and the servers warned them that they were very hot. Mark looked questioningly at his partner and Phil explained.

"They're special hollow underplates, filled with boiling water. Some gourmet meals can't be enjoyed if they get cold before you finish eating, so we have heated plates for them."

More red wine, this time a fine old Burgundy, was served. Then the promised surprise was brought in. It had to be carried by two men on an enormous silver platter and was set upon a side table. The room was instantly filled with the aroma exhaled by the huge, whole haunch of roast venison.

"Upon my word!" Constantine exclaimed as Cavanaugh began expertly carving the rare delicacy and others distributed the still smoking slices. "What a mighty joint! My mediaeval ancestors would feel right at home with such a meal!"

"I understand the gamekeepers have been tracking a hart for some time, keeping tabs on its habits, so they would be able to find it when it would be needed for your table, sir," began Cavanaugh as he continued to skillfully slice and load the plates, which others took to the hungry diners. The dishes fit snugly in the plate warmers, which kept everything piping hot. "When they heard master Philip was returning, they decided only it would do for a celebratory dinner. So they bagged the beast and presented it to the cook."

Hot tureens of gravy and currant jelly steamed as they were set on the table and made available for the diners to dress their venison, along with heaps of bread rolls and dishes of butter cunningly molded into fanciful shapes. Wild game was no novelty to the heron men, who depended on it to survive in their isolated valley. But they thoroughly enjoyed their meal.

After a simple dessert of iced wine and fruit, the heron men prepared to go out for a walk and meet up with Jack. Phil visited the ample washroom that was built between the rooms he and his heron brothers shared and looked it over with an appraising eye as he pissed. He smiled at the large, onyx paved shower, thinking of the games he and the others could play there later.

'I hope I'm invited too,' a silent voice whispered to Phil's brain.

"Of course, Jack." Phil replied as Jack's hands slid around Phil's midsection and helped him shake his cock. The amazing organ filled Jack's hands as well as Phil's "You know you're always welcome to play with me or Mark."

"Tonight may not be our night," he began quietly as Phil tucked himself away and buttoned up.

"Is something wrong? I thought we were all going to meet outside."

"No, I just wanted to tell you something of a personal nature. And afterwards, you may want to give it your full attention while the rest of us discuss what I've learned."

"What is it?"

"There's a man here whose mind I scanned. Albert Tyrell. I believe you know him."

"Yes, I do," sighed Phil. "We were best friends as boys. He was my first... " The big man shook off the pleasant memories before they became too strong. "What about Al?"

"I think you should know he's still deeply in love with you, Phil." Jack looked away, as if through the walls towards Albert's location. "He tried to forget you, like you advised, but he couldn't. He's waiting outside, hoping to speak to you. He doesn't know what to expect after all these years. He's steeled himself for a rejection, but I can tell it would break him, inside."

"I wanted to talk to Al. I guess I'd better do it now."

"If I'm any judge of character," added Jack, his eyes coming back to meet Phil's, "Al seems to be a potential heron man."

"Oh?" Phil exclaimed softly. He wondered where their reunion might lead.

"Yes," Jack affirmed. "I'll speak to the others. Albert's on the southwest side of the house."

"Thank you, Jack," Phil kissed his friend. When the intimate touch ended, Jack disappeared and only the open washroom door marked his passing. Phil slipped down the servants' corridor, left the manor through the kitchen and rounded the corner of the great house.

In the light coming from a nearby set of windows, Phil saw a man in dark green clothes, his gamekeeper's uniform, pacing before a marble bench, smoking a hand rolled cigarette. He abruptly sat down and Phil caught some words the man spoke distractedly to himself.

"Steady, Al, steady... don't act like a fool... you've only got one shot at this... "

Phil deliberately ground his boots into the gravel path as he walked to alert his boyhood friend. The man dropped his smoke, jumped up and faced Phil as he came closer. Albert had become a large man like Phil, and a very handsome one as well. Phil felt his heart begin to beat faster as he spoke.

"Albert?" he asked gently. "Do I have you to thank for that magnificent dinner?"

Albert doffed his hat and lowered his eyes out of habit when speaking to his social superiors.

"I didn't bag him alone, sir, my brother and father helped. It didn't take us long, because we knew the hart's habits and where he would be found. Did you really enjoy the venison, sir?"

"Don't do that." Phil asked as he came closer. "Can't we talk like the friends we used to be, Al, like equals?"

"Are we still friends... Phil?"

"God, yes, Al!" Phil exclaimed, taking his hand. Al gripped it and looked up into Phil's eyes. They fairly shone with emotion.

"I wasn't sure... it's been so long."

A shadow suddenly passed before the lighted windows close to where they stood and both men jumped.

"Come away," Al urged. "Let's go into the woods."

"No," Phil countered. "Come up to my room."

"In the manor?"

"I promised you I'd smuggle you into my room some night, don't you remember?"

"Yes. But that was years and years ago."

"A promise is a promise. Especially between best friends. C'mon."

Phil retraced his steps, with Al right behind him. Though they heard the other servants working, they did not encounter any and reached Phil's room unseen. Phil locked the door and turned to find himself bearhugged by his friend. They kissed deeply, overjoyed by their reunion, and within a minute the men were grinding their hard cocks against each other through their clothing. Knowing Al's need, Phil maneuvered them both into the huge oak framed bed and the pair gave themselves up to an extended bout of frenetic lovemaking.

"...God, but you grew into a handsome man!" Phil was murmuring in Al's ear, sometime later. "And that red beard makes you look so attractive!"

"You're better than I remember too, Phil." Al sighed back. "I'm sorry."

"Huh? About what?" Phil asked, pulling his old friend closer. A pair of pants, Phil was not sure whose, slipped off the bed and fell to the floor, joining a scattered collection of clothing.

"I tried to do what you asked me. I tried to find another man to love, but I couldn't forget you. I was saving my money to buy a ticket to America and go look for you, but first that war broke out over there, and then no one knew quite where you were in Oregon. Lord Swansgrave was kind enough to let me look at his maps, but it was such a big country I thought I'd never find you. So I waited here, hoping you'd come back someday."

"I'm sorry I took so long, Al. If I'd known... well, that doesn't matter now."

"Can I stay with you then, Phil? I could still be your servant."

"If we were to be together, Al, I'd want it to be as equals. But there'd be other... er... complications."

"What... " Phil felt Al's body stiffen as he made a connection. "Those men you came with... are they like us?"

"Al... yes."

"One of them is your lover," he whispered apprehensively. "Is that it?"

"Yes, but Al, it's not what you think. Hear me out... "

Al lay in Phil's arms as he listened to his old friend spin the story of his experiences with the Elxa tribe. Phil avoided the more recent history, including mention of the spirit realm, but what he said was quite enough for Al. The man was simply amazed by the idea of living in a community made up only of men like themselves.

"And you all freely... play together? Without jealousy?"

"That's part of the Way of the Heron, the life path we try to walk."

"I'd sure like to be part of the Elxa, but didn't you say the spirits chose new members?"

"Yes, but I'll talk it over with the others. And you can stay with me in any case if you want to. I won't leave you behind again, Al. Besides, I could use your help."

"With what?"

"I'm going back to London tomorrow. My uncle Rupert may still be in danger and I want to keep an eye on him until we know who tried to poison him."

"You know I'll help you in any way I can."

"Good," grinned Phil, "because I'd like your help with something else right now." He pointed towards the washroom attached to his room. "I'd like to take a shower and I need someone to get my back!"

Much later, finding the door to his room locked, Mark detoured through the room shared by Eben and Hun Tzu, who were preparing to take an extended shower with Jack. Ignoring their snickerings, for Jack had told his heron brothers why Phil had not joined them, Mark eased the door from the washroom in between open. As Jack had forewarned him, he saw two big forms cuddled in the bed. Luckily it was a wide bed, and Mark stepped carefully through the discarded clothing on the floor, adding his own as he went.

As the sound of the shower began to hiss quietly in the background, Mark felt about carefully and recognized Phil by his long beard. Then he deftly slipped under the covers behind his partner. Mark was relaxing against the hairy, warm back when Phil slowly turned and gathered Mark into his arms. Phil's lips moved sensuously in Mark's ear.

"I'm glad you're here... "

"You need help with your friend?" Mark chuckled.

"In the morning perhaps. I think I wore him out."

"I'm glad you left some of yourself for me." Mark said before sharing a lingering kiss. "Jack told me what you and Al were up to. Was it good?"

"Very. How do you feel about taking him home with us?"

"That good, huh? You think he's heron man material?"

"I think so and so does Jack. I'm going to send a message back with Jack to Falling Star, to see what he thinks."

"Aw, you know Falling Star trusts your judgement. He made you a chief in the tribe a long time ago! Did you tell Al everything?"

"Everything but the magic. I'm not sure if Al would believe me."

"All you have to do is show him the tree Hun Tzu opened."

"Yes, I suppose... "

"What tree?" Al yawned as he rose to look over Phil's shoulder. Mark recognized the man who had attracted his attention earlier. Having lived with the magic of the Elxa for so long, he knew at once that it could not have been a mere coincidence.

"Hello," he beamed. "I'm Mark."

"You're Phil's partner?" Al poked Phil. "You didn't tell me he was such a good looking man!"

"You ain't so bad to look at yourself, Al!" returned Mark.

"Here," Phil grumped in mock annoyance, pulling Mark over himself and planting him against Al. "You two get acquainted while I get some more sleep! I still want to leave in the morning!"

Lord Swansgrave was a little surprised by his nephew's request, but gladly gave Al leave to go to London and help Phil protect Rupert. Hiking back to Croglin Grange gave Al a chance to say goodbye to his family, pack a bag and change into his best clothes. Al had already told Phil his brother John was more than capable of taking over as gamekeeper for the vast estate of the Caddell family. He was also engaged to be married, which promised more Tyrell huntsmen for the future.

Later, the heron men paused to show Al the oak tree Hun Tzu had 'opened' and explained its magic. Al was amazed at the craft that allowed the Elxa to travel vast distances on Earth by detouring through the spirit realm, using trees that channeled telluric energies. They could have used it then and gone back to London through the tree at Fruitwood, but they decided to take the train, as both Al and Mark needed more sleep. They had kept each other up late the previous night in their endeavor to 'get acquainted'.

In their compartment, the pair leaned against each other, got comfortable and dozed off. Eben and Hun Tzu exchanged knowing smiles. Phil, for his part, gazed fondly at the two men who both moved him on a deep level of his being and tried to imagine the future.

He thought about the house he and Mark had built and considered what changes would make it more comfortable for three. He wondered about the bed and thought perhaps a bigger one might be more useful. After all, they were bound to have guests... Then he was distracted by Hun Tzu's touch. He realized the geomancer and Eben had been talking to him.

"I'm sorry, I was lost in thought."

"It's alright," Hun Tzu smiled. "It is obvious you have much to think about." He nodded at Mark and Al as he spoke. "But you have not asked what Jack discovered at the manor."

"Did he find something?"

"In a word, no," began Eben. "He scanned everyone there, but the poisoner isn't any of the people who live at the manor."

"So my grandmother is innocent," Phil breathed. "Thank God. When I saw her before dinner yesterday, she looked broken with shame and grief. We have to help her and get to the bottom of this outrage!"

"Jack said if he could find the other three people who were there, Baron von Trompp and Lord and Lady Eurstone, he'd scan them and determine if they told the police the truth about their activities on the night in question."

"What about Adrian Singleton? Did anyone there know him?"

"Jack said your uncle the baron had a recollection of the name, a vague one, like Rupert did. But that didn't tell him much. No one else there had ever heard of the man."

After puzzling some more over what little they knew, the heron men snacked on some venison sandwiches the cook had packed for them. Phil saved some for Mark and Al, who woke up in time to eat them before the train pulled into London. Eben and Hun Tzu poked a little fun at the indolent pair, reminding them that beds were for sleeping as well as lovemaking. Al blushed fiercely at that, and Mark leapt to his defense by telling them to lay off his pard, which made Phil grin. Coming out of the station, Phil spotted a familiar figure waving at them.

"Why Stephen!" he exclaimed, coming over to the coachman. "How'd you know we'd be here?"

"Baron Swansgrave telegrammed your departure, so Lord St. Croix sent me to collect you." Stephen opened his coach with a flourish. "Please climb aboard, gentlemen!"

Upon their return to Fruitwood, they found Rupert ready to introduce his wife and son to them. Matilda thanked Phil effusively for his earlier letters and Thomas, who was almost four, was a bit overwhelmed at first. But he seemed to understand that the big man with the long beard was going to be his special friend, especially after getting a ride around the house on his shoulders.

Rupert appeared to be much better. After hearing from Phil about the mostly negative results of his investigations at Swansgrave Manor, he decided to go riding around London with his wife and son to get some air. Reminding him to be careful, Phil went out to the street with him, Matilda and Thomas. They hailed a cab that was passing and Phil waved goodbye to them as the conveyance clattered off.

Phil rejoined the others who were relaxing in the gardens. They were bringing Clarence and Terrance up to date, describing their visit to the opulent seat of the Caddell family. Phil strolled over, helped himself to a cinnamon scone from a number arraigned on a silver salver, slathered a gob of superlative butter on it and addressed his four companions between bites.

"It appears we have the afternoon to ourselves. Would you like to do a little sightseeing in London?"

As the others nodded, Clarence spoke up.

"I'd be glad to put my coach at your disposal again, Philip."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you, Clarence. Perhaps it's too soon to ask, but what are our plans for this evening?"

"Oh, it almost slipped my mind! I've been invited to a formal party this evening. Would you all like to come with me?"

"Who is hosting the event?" asked Terrance.

"Lady Wellebourne," Clarence answered. "She's quite giddy about the event, since she managed to wring a promise from the Prince of Wales to attend. I imagine he will show up for a short time only, but still, it will be a major coup for her."

"Why," brightened Terrance, "this would be a splendid opportunity to introduce Matilda to high society."

"Would you like to see the heir to the throne of England?" Phil asked his friends. As they all responded in the affirmative, Phil grew thoughtful. "We'll need formal attire. Is there a shop nearby where we can buy clothing, Clarence?"

"My driver will take you to my clothier. Tell him you are my guests and he will take care of you."

Stephen was as accommodating as usual. The five men proceeded to their fittings, and though Phil's knowledge of fashion was a decade old, the conservative formulae for formal wear had not changed very much. After the group was properly outfitted to meet a prince, the suits were dispatched to Fruitwood while Phil took his friends on a tour of the city. They drove past great palaces, impressive monuments and through elegant parks.

The men began to play a game of spotting 'sisters', having seen quite a few suspicious looking male couples walking out and about. As the coach turned down one street they saw two men emerge from No. 221B. One was tall and lean with a hawklike face while the other was shorter and appeared to be a typical, if slightly rotund, English country gentleman.

"There's another couple," Eben indicated while the others nodded in agreement.

Arriving at Westminster Abbey, Phil led his friends inside and pointed out the resting places of famous and infamous personages of English history. Here was Henry VIII, whose matrimonial tribulations created endless turmoil for England. Over there was the greatest thing King Henry left to posterity: his daughter, the great Elizabeth, who though mistress of only half an island defied the mightiest monarchs of Europe and made them fear the armed might of England.

"This is interesting, or at least I think it is so," Phil said as he pointed out a white marble monument to Anne of Cleves, the most fortunate, or so some said, of Henry VIII's six wives. "Her tomb was the first in England to have a skull and crossbones on it, a device now synonymous with death in the English-speaking world."

As they inspected the coronation chair, Mark pointed to a odd object set beneath it which looked out of place and asked, "What's that old rock doin' there?"

"That 'old rock' is the Stone of Scone, the coronation 'chair' of the ancient Kings of Scotland," Phil explained. "Some say it is the same stone that the patriarch Jacob used for a pillow, when he had his famous dream of angels ascending and descending a ladder from Heaven as described in the Bible, but no one can explain how the stone got from Israel to Scotland! When King Edward I invaded Scotland, long ago, he took the sacred stone and placed it under his throne to show that the Kings of England were also the rulers of Scotland, though that didn't really come about until James VI of Scotland became James I of England."

After they left the abbey, they went to a tavern and Phil treated his friends to rounds of English ale and beer. There was a general agreement that while English spirits were quite good, their friend Matt Able brewed just as good a beer in False Pass. Mark promised Al that he would take him to the Trail's End saloon when they got home to Oregon so he could judge for himself. As the great clock in the tavern struck three, they agreed it was time to return to Fruitwood.

The paperboys were crying the arrival of the evening editions as the heron men exited the pub. Phil decided to buy a paper and went towards a nearby kiosk. A golden haired youth in his late teens, who was in charge of the booth, was having an animated conversation with the attendant, a younger, light brown haired lad.

"...Lord Lymprod took me to dinner at the Royal Covey House in William Rufus Street. It was marvelous! We drank a bottle of boy and... "

"Boy?" puzzled the attendant.

"Haven't you ever heard champagne called boy, Danny?"

"No, Bill," he shook his head. "Why?"

"'Cause they act the same when you pop their corks!"

"Oh!" laughed Danny. "It sounds like you had fun."

"His lordship might fancy you too. Want me to put a good word in?"

"Would you? It's been awhile since I had a good meal."

"Here," Bill said as he dug in his pocket and handed his friend three shillings. "Can't have my best mate goin' hungry!"

"Bill, I can't... " Danny started to protest.

"Lord Lymprod gave me a sovereign. I've still got most of it."

"Thanks, Bill, I... Oh, hello sir." Danny managed when he spotted Phil.

"Did I hear the evening papers were out?"

"Yes, sir."

"Give me a Times, please." As Danny handed Phil one of the penny papers, Phil gave the young man a sixpence piece. "Keep the change."

"Thank you, sir!" he beamed. "Is there anything else I can do for you sir?"

"Perhaps you could be more careful of what you talk about in a public place," Phil warned. "I don't disapprove at all of what you were discussing, but others might not be so tolerant. Understand?"

"I understand, sir."

"Would you be lookin' for some congenial company, sir?" asked Bill boldly.

"Not at the moment. Can you usually be found here?" Phil returned, just as boldly, eyeing the lad speculatively. Bill seemed used to such appraising looks.

"Here, or at the Regent's Park, when I'm not doin' odd jobs."

"You've no steady employment?"

"No sir, but I'm hard worker."

Phil stroked his long beard in thought.

"Your name is Bill?"

"Bill Muir, sir. This is my friend Danny Nye."

"I'm pleased to meet you both. My name is Phil Caddell. I'm visiting London after a long absence. I could use someone to run errands for me, perhaps act as my valet on a temporary basis. Would you be interested?"

"Yes sir!"

"Do you know where Richard II Street is?"

"Yes sir."

"One of the properties along that street is called Fruitwood. It is owned by Lord St. Croix. I will be staying there tonight. Here," Phil said, handing over a sovereign. "Buy me a pouch of the best Virginia pipe tobacco and a white orchid corsage for my aunt. Bring them around before six. I'll see you get fed when you arrive."

"Yes sir."

"Phil?" asked Mark, coming over from the waiting coach. "Is something wrong?"

"No, Mark. I was just hiring a valet. This is Bill Muir and his friend Danny Nye. Bill, Danny, this is my partner, Mark Nutley."

"Glad to meet you," Mark said as they shook. Danny was about to speak again when a new voice interrupted.

"'Ullo, luvs!"

The men and lads all looked to see a common prostitute approaching the kiosk. Her cheap finery matched the artificial color of her hair, and both were slightly disheveled. Her voice and movements betrayed the fact that she had been drinking.

"Push off, Bessie!" scolded Danny. "You've been told not to ply your trade around here!"

"Don't tell me what to do, you little pansy!" she all but screamed before addressing Phil and Mark in a slightly less irritating tone. "'Ow 'bout it luvs? I've a special rate for threesomes!"

"C'mon, Phil," Mark urged, taking his man's arm. His distaste for the slattern was obvious.

"Cripes! More bleedin' fairies!" she brayed. "Why don't you try somethin' diff'rent?"

"I did," said Phil in his most pleasant manner. "It was like cold, stinking fish."

Danny and Bill burst into laughter. Mark grinned. Bessie looked like she had been slapped.

"Aaaaoooow! What a thing to say to a lady!"

"You're no lady!" Bill chimed in.

"I'll 'ave the law on all you spotty prancers, I will!" she fumed.

"Evening, Constable," greeted Danny, as a uniformed man joined them.

"'Ere now, what's all this? Is this woman bothering you, sir?" the lawman asked, looking at Phil, who shook his head.

"I just stopped for a paper, and am leaving now. My valet here has some errands to run, right?"

"I'll see you before six, sir." Bill agreed.

Leaving the Constable to deal with Bessie, Mark and Phil returned to their comrades. Phil leafed eagerly through the paper to see if Stanley's story had made it into print. He smiled when he found it. As the coach trundled along, he read the article to his friends.

"Listen to this: 'After a period of recuperation at the rustic manor of Riverview near the village of Tender Bottom, owned by the distinguished retired foreign civil servant, Sir Terrance Sandersfield, most lately Her Britannic Majesty's Consul in San Francisco, the Right Honorable Sir Rupert Caddell, Squire of Swansgrave and heir to the rich barony thereof, was seen dining in Bicton's with his nephew, the Right Honorable Philip Caddell, who has just returned from a sojourn of many years in the Colonies...' They put 'Colonies' in italics so the readers know they mean America," Phil explained to his friends.

"'This gentleman, currently second in line for the barony... '" Phil paused again. "I suppose they haven't gotten the news about Matilda and Thomas yet. Let's see... 'this gentleman is remembered as a brilliant scholar of literature at Oxford and Trinity, and left for America before the outbreak of the Civil War there to attend Harvard and tour the country. Just before the outbreak of the late war there, he removed to the western part of America and has lived the life of a rough backwoodsman for over ten years. However, upon meeting him, this reporter found an affable and cultured gentleman, whose manners seemed not at all to have been affected by his long sojourn in the American wilderness.'"

Mark and the others chuckled at that.

"'The Squire of Swansgrave himself was unable to speak to this reporter due to his continuing weakness, but he appeared cheerful and ate a hearty lunch of tenderloin, Yorkshire pudding and green salad, according to the staff of Bicton's. It is gratifying to see the victim of such a horrendous crime escape its deadly intentions and return to society.

"'One almost wishes the laws of Henry VIII were still in force, so that when the author of this villainy is convicted, they could face a boiling in oil before the public, to deter future would-be poisoners from this unspeakable crime... '"

"Whoa!" muttered Eben. "That Henry fellow used to boil people in oil?"

"What did you expect from a guy who chops his wives' heads off?" observed Mark.

"He only boiled poisoners," Phil laughed. "We can visit the Tower of London sometime and see the rack and other instruments of torture used in the past, or if that's too macabre for you, the crown jewels are on display there, too."

After returning to Fruitwood, the men cleaned themselves up, taking more showers, and relaxing in various ways. Mark and Al cuddled up for another nap in their room while Phil went to Clarence's library and looked over the police documents relating to Rupert's poisoning, which had been sent by Rupert's solicitor. Eben and Hun Tzu went for a walk, which allowed Eben to check out the area with his heightened senses. The geomancer also took some readings with his lo-pan, but the pair discovered nothing suspicious.

Bill turned up at five with the items Phil had requested. Phil asked a servant to take the orchid, a frilly thing that had all the appearance of being wrought from ivory, to his aunt with his compliments. Noting the name on the package of pipe tobacco, Phil realized Bill had visited the most renowned tobacconist in London and at once packed his pipe and lit it. He had been looking forward to a smoke and exhaled the fragrant fumes in pleasure.

When Bill offered Phil the change from his sovereign, Phil smiled and told him to count it as part of his pay. Then Phil set Bill down and informed him of the task Phil needed done that evening. When he was sure Bill understood the gravity of the situation, Phil sent him off to the kitchen to get some food.

Clarence's cook was as skilled as Terrance's, and produced another tasty and substantial supper, during which Eben whispered to Phil that he had never seen such a variety of food prepared so many ways. By tacit agreement, the men did not mention what they knew about Rupert's poisoning or the spies that had been discovered, not wishing to upset Matilda. She was already in an almost apprehensive mood, knowing at long last she was about to make her debut in London society.

Rupert, having sent word to his house, had Peter bring his best suit of evening clothes around. As everyone changed, Phil found he had to intervene often to assist his friends don their unfamiliar garments. Following Hun Tzu's lead, the men tied their long hair back into ponytails with green ribbon, as a sign of their brotherhood. Al, whose hair was short, was consoled by the others and reassured that they already considered him their brother as well. At last, gathered in the foyer, the men looked up in wonder as Matilda appeared and came down the stairs.

She wore a gown of pale blue silk that rustled softly as she moved and was extremely becoming. Phil's white orchid clung to her right shoulder. A few pieces of diamond jewelry added a bit of sparkle. As Rupert helped her put on a voluminous cloak to protect her dress he asked where she had gotten it.

"Why, Clarence gave it to me. It was among his late mother's things, and I altered it to fit me. Do you really like it?"

"You'll dazzle every man there, my dear. I'm afraid the Prince of Wales will make a pass at you, and I shall have to challenge him to a duel!"

"Oh, you!"

"Is Thomas asleep?"

"Yes, and my maid, Anne, is watching him."

Phil glanced up the stairs and saw Bill seated in a chair opposite the door to the room Thomas and Anne shared. The young man was leafing through a magazine and a cup of tea was steaming on a table beside him. Rupert saw where his nephew's attention was.

"Thank you again for thinking of a guard," he whispered. "We can't be too careful."

Phil nodded as they went outside. The group needed two coaches for their journey. Foreseeing that, Rupert had retained Edgar and his own coach, which he, Matilda and his two friends took. As the heron men were getting into Clarence's coach, Eben's expression changed while he took his seat.

"What is it?" asked Hun Tzu.

"Jack just got here."

"Is he the one you told me about?" Al asked Mark. As Mark nodded and whispered a further reply, Eben paused as if listening.

"Jack says there are no spies he can detect around here." After another moment, Eben went on. "Phil, can Jack join us at the party?"

"Sure, but he needs proper attire... "

"Jack says he'll borrow something from the same shop we were at earlier." Eben cocked his head. "He knows where to meet us from reading Stephen's mind."

"Okay," Phil responded as the coach lurched and took off. "What?" he asked when he saw Eben's grin.

"Jack says Stephen has a crush on you."

"Get used to it Al," Mark said to the surprised redhead as the others laughed. "Phil's a regular man-magnet!"

"Jack also says," added Eben, more seriously, "that Bill can be trusted. The boy's glad to have a job and is eager to please you in the hopes of it becoming permanent. Bill's realized that London is a bit rougher than he expected, but he doesn't want to go home, especially since he's in love with Danny."

"Thank Jack for the information. I intend to take good care of Bill." Phil glanced at the others, who were snickering at the unspoken implications of his words. "Oh, get your minds out of the gutter! The Way of the Heron isn't entirely about mansex you know!"

"No, but it is the best part!" Mark returned merrily.

As they rumbled along, London looked like a different place at night, illuminated by innumerable gas streetlights. A light fog was rising off the river and added a touch of unreality to the streets and menace to the shadowy figures that moved through the mists, which softly blurred all details. At last, the coaches turned into the gate of a palatial mansion.

The building seemed to radiate light from every window. There were torches as well, set up around the house and illuminating its gardens and grounds. Previously arrived guests could be seen there, strolling and chatting as strains of chamber music floated from the open windows and doors.

Jack appeared as soon as his heron brothers alighted. After introducing Jack as another companion who had been held up by unavoidable circumstances, they ascended the marble front steps and encountered their hostess. Lady Wellebourne was pleased to see Clarence had accepted her invitation, but was astounded to have a celebrity like Rupert attending, whose story the papers had spread far and wide in the recent weeks.

Adding to this was the utter surprise of discovering Rupert had a wife and son. And Phil's return to England, with a following of handsome Americans, was an event no less unlooked for. Her announcer gave the titles of the group aloud, ending with, 'The Right Honorable Philip Caddell of Swansgrave and friends'.

Terrance and Clarence kept an eye on Rupert, who along with Matilda were kept busy receiving a steady stream of congratulations from well wishers, but the Squire of Swansgrave seemed to have recovered almost completely from his poisoning. Clarence agreed with Terrance that Phil's arrival had been just the spur Rupert needed to push himself back into the ordinary activities of life. Meanwhile, Phil and the others waded into the sea of society that packed the long, stately ballroom.

Al was a bit intimidated, conscious of his sudden rise to the rarefied heights of society, but he watched his companions and profited by their example. The Americans, naturally unconscious of class distinctions, mixed and talked easily with those curious about their home. The Americans were much amused by some of the misconceptions they heard about 'the Colonies'.

As Hun Tzu lingered near the refreshments, sipping a flavorful punch and sampling a few of the many custards, trifles, creams, meringues, jellies and other tempting treats laid out for the guests. As he did so, he made the acquaintance of a fellow partygoer. The geomancer soon found himself deep in conversation about Chinese art with someone whose ideas showed him to have been a careful student of the subject.

The man appeared to be of an age with the heron men, fashionably and fastidiously dressed, with a large and rather grotesque orchid in his buttonhole. It was spotted, ragged and looked as if a tropical disease had been forced to produce a blossom with the color of inflamed flesh. His name was Galan Swysher, Lord Lymprod, and within a few minutes of their meeting, Hun Tzu knew he was dealing with another manlover like himself, though of a rather more queenly demeanor.

"Did you come with Philip Caddell?" Upon receiving an affirmative reply, the lord went on. "Could you point him out to me?"

Hun Tzu looked around the great ballroom. He spotted Phil, who seemed to be having an animated conversation with an older gentleman whose beard was the equal of the heron man's, but of a snow white color. Hun Tzu discreetly pointed Phil out and Lord Lymprod's eyes widened a bit as he went on.

"I have heard of Philip Caddell of course, a brilliant scholar of literature at both Oxford and Trinity, and then away to America to attend whatever passes for an institution of higher learning there. But I had always pictured to myself a lank haired, gaunt, bespectacled creature with huge feet!" Lord Lymprod looked again and continued on. "One must admit his feet are rather on the large side, but the rest of him reeks of untrammeled masculinity! I did not think our tired nobility could produce such a strapping fellow!"

"Would you like me to introduce you to him?"

"That would be splendid! But let's wait until he's done speaking with old Lord Uncton there. They seem to be having a pleasant talk and I'd hate to spoil it. Ah! Here is our hostess!" Galan said, making a sudden bow to Lady Wellebourne, who was just passing by. Hun Tzu did the same and she paused.

"Are you having a good time, gentlemen?"

"An extremely good time, my dear Phyllis. Your party will be talked of for weeks, because of the surprise appearance of the Squire of Swansgrave and his hitherto unknown, but charming wife. She seems to have made a sparkling success of her public debut. And then there's his nephew, Philip, back in England after years and years. Yes, even if the Prince of Wales doesn't show up, this will be an event well worth remembering!"

"But Bertie promised me himself!" she exclaimed, emphasizing the word 'promised'.

"Royalty cannot be held to the same standards as we lesser mortals."

"No, they can't, but I think their standards ought to be higher! Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must have a word with my niece, Lady Trollope there." Phyllis Wellebourne suddenly pouted. "I don't know why all my attempts to bring you two together have failed, Galan. I'm sure you and Edwina would make a delightful couple. Oh well, adieu, gentlemen."

"You re not married?" asked Hun Tzu, unsurprised at the news as Lady Wellebourne sailed off, leaving a strong scent of frangipane in her wake.

"I have a theory about marriage. Men do it when they are tired of living alone, and women do it out of sheer curiosity. I doubt seriously that many end up happy with their choices."

"And there are many men who should not marry at all."

"Yes, that is so." Lord Lymprod looked speculatively at Hun Tzu. "But society will insist on it."

"As I understand it, Phil was driven to America by his grandmother's penchant for arraigning marriages for the men in her family. He, like myself and our other friends, are 'not the marrying kind' as some say."

Galan laid his hand on Hun Tzu's arm lightly and an understanding passed between them.

"If that is so, I would be delighted to show you and your friends some parts of London that 'our kind' might find diverting. And warn you about places to be avoided. For instance, there's a house in Cleveland Street that despite the occasional presence of royalty is much too risky a place to seek one's pleasure at. On the other hand, the Alhambra is a perfectly wonderful place to relax in, and quite discrete."

"What do they offer there?" Hun Tzu asked, rather curious.

"Why, it's primarily a bathhouse, with steamrooms, a swimming pool, masseurs, that sort of thing. But its charm for me is that most of the clientele go about their business there in a total state of undress. One can witness a smorgasbord of masculine charms there, all openly and unashamedly displayed. I would be pleased to show you and your friends around it sometime."

"That's very kind of you. I'll mention it to the others. But you ought to know, until we get to the bottom of what happened to Phil's uncle, we are acting as his bodyguard, so our time here is not completely our own."

"It was a terrible thing to have happen. Of course all I know about it is what I have read in the papers. It seems incredible that the Squire's own mother would do such a thing, but the police seem convinced of her guilt."

"Well, we're not convinced of that... What's happening?"

Hun Tzu's rejoinder had been interrupted as the musicians abruptly ended the elegant dance tune they had been playing and launched into a bold rendition of 'God Save The Queen', stopping all the dancers. Everyone looked around and saw a small commotion at the entryway. Galan touched Hun Tzu again.

"The Prince of Wales must be about to make his appearance. After he is announced, bow towards him. After that, he won't expect any more ceremony."

"Thank you. I had no idea what to do."

The announcer gravely informed all present that 'His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales' had arrived. As one, the ballroomful of people bowed and curtsied. The prince and his small following slowly began to make the rounds of the room as the band went back to playing a waltz and the dancers recommenced their stately movements, reflected vaguely in the polished marble floors.

Hun Tzu and Galan were too far away to hear, but it appeared that the Prince spoke some words of consolation to Rupert and his wife. Then, with a bow to Matilda, he led her out to dance. They only made one circuit of the floor, but for that brief space of time, she was the envy of the onlooking women.

'Hun Tzu.' Jack's telepathy suddenly whispered in his mind. 'Look to your right, at those open doors that lead out onto a patio.'

Slowly he did as Jack had asked. There were some people standing in the doorway, watching the Prince and whispering about the lady he was dancing with. One man had a look of consternation on his face, a face Hun Tzu recognized, for Jack had shown it to him and the others earlier.

'Adrian Singleton?' he thought back.

'Yes,' Jack answered. 'When he heard Rupert was here, his emotions attracted my attention. He was angry and confused as to why his spies hadn't warned him that Rupert had left Riverview.'

'Why is he spying on Rupert?'

'Wait and let me tell you all later, once we're away from here.'

'Alright.'

"Who are you looking at?" asked Galan, glancing in the same direction.

"Oh, no one. I was just taking in the crowd."

Jack gave the same warning to the other heron men, who could scarcely wait to hear what Jack had discovered. Phil was glad he had not described Adrian to his uncle Rupert. He could imagine what the fiery older man might have done, despite the presence of royalty, if he knew Adrian was nearby.

Hun Tzu eventually introduced Galan to Phil. Remembering what he had overheard at the news stand, Phil mentioned his new valet's name to see how Lord Lymprod would react. Galan was quite surprised when Bill's name came up in the conversation, but not embarrassed. In fact, he owned up to his acquaintance with the young man at once.

"Bill is a sharp lad," he began earnestly. "Like so many others, he's come to London to seek his fortune. I was urging him to return home, to Sussex I believe it was, because this city is not kind to boys like him. I'm glad he's fallen into good hands."

"I'm glad to hear my estimation of his character was correct," returned Phil, who was also pleased to know Galan was not an exploiter of boys who were down on their luck. "I'll take good care of him."

Despite Lord Lymprod's diverting conversation, the rest of the evening seemed to drag on interminably. The prince left after an hour or so, and Matilda insisted that Rupert not overtax himself, so they followed soon afterwards. Jack joined his friends in their coach and told them what they were itching to hear, what he had learned as it jolted back to Lord St. Croix's home.

Jack had discovered a devious plot from reading the mind of Adrian Singleton. Phil was as surprised as the others to hear Adrian was a relative of his by marriage, but it explained why his uncles found the name familiar. Adrian was married to the sister of Lord Eurstone, who was in turn married to Phil's cousin, Orabella.

"Don't tell me she's involved with this!" exclaimed Phil.

"She knows nothing about it," Jack reassured his friend. "Nor does Lord Eurstone's sister. The prime mover in this plot is Lord Eurstone himself."

"But why would he want to kill Rupert?"

"I'll need to read Lord Eurstone's mind to be sure, but from what I got from Adrian, it is greed, pure and simple. Not knowing about Matilda or Thomas, and thinking you would never return to England, even to claim your inheritance, Lord Eurstone was hoping his wife would accede to the barony and he would have ultimate control of the millions of pounds it represents. He thought getting rid of Rupert would make Orabella the next in line, but that wasn't enough."

"Howso?" demanded Phil.

"Lord Eurstone knows Eberhardine would never allow Orabella to take control of the barony as long as you, the rightful heir, were alive. So he had to dispose of her as well. He somehow managed to frame her for Rupert's poisoning, killing, or so he thought, two birds with one stone. And he had plans for you too, if you did show up."

"It's monstrous!"

"Wait a minute," began Mark, "I thought this Eurstone fellow knew about Matilda and Thomas, because he had spies watchin' them."

"It was only after the poisoning that he found out about them," Jack explained. "Matilda insisted on going to see Rupert when he first arrived at Terrance's manor, and that was when Adrian's spies noticed her. After a little research in the public records office, which has duplicates of Indian colonial documents, Lord Eurstone discovered Rupert was married and had a child."

"Was he going to kill them too?" Phil looked angry. Al and Mark both moved at once to take his hands in an attempt to calm him.

"Like I said, I'd have to read Lord Eurstone's mind to know for sure, but Adrian thinks the discovery spoiled all their plans, because he personally wouldn't have anything to do with murdering a child. He's now hoping that, whatever happens at the trial, he and his brother-in-law will remain unsuspected and free."

"We have to expose them somehow!" muttered Phil. "I'm almost ashamed to acknowledge that my grandmother isn't the easiest person on Earth to get along with, but I can't let her be convicted of attempted murder when I know she is innocent!"

"That will be difficult," Hun Tzu pointed out. "All we have is the word of a telepath, and putting aside the fact that most people believe telepathy to be a myth, it would be inadmissible as evidence at your grandmother's trial."

"When is the trial?" asked Eben.

"Rupert told me it will begin next week." Phil answered.

"I think we should let Falling Star know what we've found and ask his advice."

"That's a good idea, Eben," agreed Hun Tzu as the others nodded.

"I'll go talk to him as soon as I can, then," Jack volunteered.

"Thanks, but don't be in such a rush to go," smiled Phil, his thoughts turning to a more pleasant subject. "After talking with Lord Lymprod, I was intrigued by his description of the Alhambra, a bathhouse set up exclusively for men. Would you all like to come with me and see it?"

A chorus of agreement followed Phil's suggestion. Arriving at Fruitwood, they found everything was just as they had left it, and Rupert pressed a sovereign into Bill's hand along with his thanks for watching over his son. By then, Bill had discovered he was working for the nephew of the nobleman whose poisoning had rocked and scandalized the gentry of England and muttered his thanks in an awed voice. He looked at Phil expectantly when his employer came up to him.

"Will you be needing me anymore tonight sir?"

"Perhaps. My friends and I are going out to a place our friend Lord Lymprod recommended, the Alhambra. Do you know it?"

"Why, yes sir, I've heard stories about it, but I've never been there. It costs a whole crown to get in, too much for me to afford! I understand they keep the price high to exclude the lower classes."

"Don't worry about that, Bill," Phil smiled. "Would you like to join us as our guest?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir!" he managed, a bit overcome by Phil's generosity. "Would it be out of place to ask if I could invite my friend Danny along?"

"Not at all. We can pick him up on the way."

"May I ask how you know Lord Lymprod? He has been very kind to me in the past." Phil told Bill about the ball where they had met. "You saw the Prince of Wales? Is he as handsome as I've heard?"

"Actually, I got a chance to speak a few words to him. He was kind enough to wish my uncle a complete recovery from his ordeal, and Rupert insisted on introducing me to him." Bill listened in wonder. Like most provincial English, he had been raised to consider the royal family with reverential awe. Bill's image of them were of glittering and remote personages, like the gods of Olympus, looking down benevolently on their subjects. "He is quite a fine figure of a man. I'm sure he'll make a good king someday. Well, I'd better change into something less formal before we go."

Bill followed Phil to the room he shared with Mark and Al. The door to the adjacent room was open so they could talk with Eben, Jack and Hun Tzu as they changed. Phil patiently showed Bill how a valet should take care of his employer's effects and Bill carefully brushed, folded and hung the six men's evening clothes away in the wardrobes.

Phil went to tell his host where he and his friends were going. He found Clarence and Terrance in the library, deep in conversation over two large maps, one of France and the other of the German Confederation, spread out across Clarence's wide desk. Both older men knew about the Alhambra and were sorry they could not come along, but assured Phil a servant would be waiting up to let them in when they returned.

Calling for Clarence's coach, Phil asked Bill where his friend Danny lived.

"We share a flat in Nell Gwyn Square."

"Did you hear that, Stephen?" Phil asked Clarence's driver.

"Yes sir. A rough area sir."

"Really? Isn't it near the houses of Parliament?"

"That's what makes it so sir," Stephen smiled. "More than one M.P. has been caught in the convenience at the corner of St. Margaret's, Westminster, performing 'lewd and lascivious' acts upon other men!"

Phil grinned at the coachman's bon mot before getting in with his friends. The fog they had ridden through earlier had thickened and the streetlights were spheres of yellow light. In between, the gray wisps flowed and curled, obscuring the gaps between lampposts.

Stopping before the building Bill indicated, he went to get his friend. Danny was amazed by what Bill had to tell him and came down in a daze. Phil put him at ease and as Bill introduced Danny to the other heron men, Phil looked at Stephen.

"Where to, sir?" the coachman asked.

"The Alhambra. In Edward II Street, if I remember correctly."

"You do sir. I know it well. Lord St. Croix likes to relax there whenever he's had a hard day at the foreign ministry."

"You won't have to wait for us. We'll find a cab to take us home later."

"Begging your pardon sir, but it'll be hard to find a ride this late at night. May I leave the coach at a stable I know of nearby and join you? His lordship has an account with the Alhambra for his servants so we can come whenever we have free time."

"Of course," Phil smiled. He figured Clarence had, like Terrance, sought out servants with his nature, and kept their loyalty by treating them well.

After a short ride through the fogbound streets, the coach pulled up before the brightly lit entrance of the Alhambra, decorated with arching stonework wrought in a faux Arabian Nights style. It was evidently what the average Englishman thought the outside of a mosque should look like. Telling his passengers not to wait for him, that he would catch up with them later, Stephen called to his team and clattered off to the stable he had spoken of.

Phil led the way up the wide stone steps and pulled open one of the massive double doors, the outer set protected by iron bars wrought in sinuous patterns. Above those doors was 'The Alhambra Baths' in fancy bronze letters. As an afterthought, someone had added a smaller sign behind the glass of the door that read 'Men Only'.

The inner doors were mostly glass, but fogged, daunting any view of the interior. The air within was warm and charged with dampness, carrying many scents. But above all was the tang of masculine sweat, a miasma of male pheromones that caused the heron men and their guests to feel themselves becoming aroused. The men's boots sounded sharply on the pristine, white tile floors of the lobby as they approached a wide desk very much like what one would expect to see in a hotel.

Laying down two sovereigns for the group, Phil and the others were led to a private room he paid extra for by a handsome attendant. Naked men with or without towels draped carelessly over one shoulder or wrapped around their waists wandered the dimly lit hallways, going to and from their rooms or the open changing area with large lockers for the men's effects. The heron men stripped unconcernedly, used to going nude in the valley of the heron. Al, Bill and Danny were a bit more reserved at first, but seeing their companions so blithe about being in a state of undress put them at ease. The two younger men however could not help but stare in astonishment at Phil's endowment when it was bared to their wondering eyes.

"Blimey!" gasped Danny.

"What a monster!" Bill added.

"Should I cover it up?" asked Phil, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"That might be a good idea, unless you want to draw a crowd!" chuckled Danny.

The men emerged from their room carelessly naked except for Phil, who took Danny's advice. Then Phil locked the door and hung the key around his neck. The key fairly disappeared into the curly black hair that covered his chest, nestling next to his Elxa glyphstone.

They went to the steamroom first, finding a small group of men relaxing and chatting in the steamy atmosphere. They joined them and Phil and the others coaxed Bill and Danny to share their life stories with them. Both boys had come to London because they were 'so' as Danny put it, tired of being the only ones in their home villages and looking for others like themselves.

"We met on the way here," Bill said, glancing at his friend. "I was following the road to London through western Kent and encountered Danny at a fork in the road that led south to Sevenoaks, his home."

"We agreed to team up when we found out we were headed in the same direction. And when we realized we were going for the same reasons, well," Danny grinned, "that was sort of the icing on the cake. Between odd jobs and the generosity of lonely gentlemen who fancy young lads like us, we were able to make enough to rent a flat together."

The boys listened in turn to the heron men describe their homes in the mountain wilderness of Oregon. After that the men, all sweating profusely, agreed it was time for a swim in the pool. On their way to it, they were haled by Stephen.

He showed them through the shadowy passages that led to the showers, which he explained were mandatory before using the pool. Danny and Bill laughed at Stephen's reaction, much like their own, upon his first sight of Phil's mighty phallus. As Stephen stuttered an apology, Mark assured him that Phil was used to people staring at his equipment and not to feel bad.

After swimming and lazing around in the pool for awhile, Stephen approached Phil and asked if he would like a massage. Phil was willing and followed Stephen to one of the darkened cubicles that lined one side of the pool chamber. As Phil lay down on the table he asked how much experience Stephen had.

"Lord St. Croix asks me to give him rubdowns like this sometimes. He says I have marvelous hands and arms. Just strong from handling his lordship's horses, I guess. And I like doing it."

After a few minutes under Stephen's expert touch, Phil had to admit the coachman made a competent masseur. In fact, he was perhaps a little too good. Phil began to yawn plaintively as Stephen worked over his back.

"It's quite a complement to the masseur when his client goes to sleep on him during the massage," smiled Stephen.

"Sorry. I've had a rather full day. But this is a wonderful way to end it," Phil murmured, stretching and turning over.

"I'd certainly like to try this sometime," the coachman whispered, stroking Phil's half-hard pole with his fingers.

"Are you sure? Many think it's beyond their capacities to take."

"I once had an affair with a man who was almost as big as you," he explained, "and I learned how to like taking it."

"Do you have your own room at Fruitwood?"

"Actually, my quarters are next to the stables, but they're mine alone."

"I see. Perhaps I could visit you tonight?"

"I would like that very much, Phil."

"Very well. Let's see if the others are ready to return."

While Phil had been getting his massage, the others had been exploring the baths. Some had found congenial company to commune with and so it was some time before Phil could round them all up for the return to Fruitwood, finding the task somewhat like the proverbial herding of cats. He promised them this would not be the last time they visited the marvelous bathhouse.

After speaking to Mark and Al, Phil asked Danny and Bill if they would keep his partners company while Phil went to play with Stephen. They were willing, but Danny said he would have to leave early to get to his kiosk. Phil stoked his beard in thought.

"It occurs to me that perhaps asking Bill to be valet to so many of us isn't such a good idea. He needs help. Would you like to enter my employ as well, Danny?"

Danny was quite willing, but said he did not fancy taking on a temporary position when he already had a steady job running his news kiosk. Phil assured him he would find both of them permanent positions before he returned to Oregon and they agreed. Once they were back at Fruitwood, Phil left his valets to cuddle with Mark and Al while he went to share Stephen's bed.

Jack in the meantime had gone through the tree Hun Tzu had opened on Fruitwood's grounds, detoured through the spirit realm and came out of a great fir tree that grew near the cave of mysteries, looking somewhat out of place in the Cascade wilderness dressed in his English attire. He met with the heron shaman, who said he would confer with his spirit helpers and see if he could find a solution to his brothers' problem. Thanking him, Jack returned to report to Phil.

There was still plenty of night left when Jack passed through the tree that led into an isolated corner of Fruitwood's gardens. He scanned the manor telepathically and smiled as he sensed everyone coupled, even Terrance and Clarence, both resting comfortably in each other's arms. But the heron man Jack sought was found in a small cottage built up next to the stables at Fruitwood. Phil and Stephen were deep in a satisfied sleep, having exhausted one another in love play. Gently, Jack planted the knowledge that Falling Star was working on their problem into Phil's sleeping mind.

Taking one last 'scan' around, Jack caught something from Eben. His heron brother was having a bad dream, and as Jack probed, he figured out why. Slipping into the manor, he made his way to the room Eben shared with Hun Tzu and woke him.

"Jack?" Eben breathed, still dazed from his nightmare.

"I felt your distress and I know why it happened," the vampire whispered back. "You need to transform and spend some time in your werewolf form."

"You're right, I can feel the need."

"Come with me," Jack invited. "We'll prowl London by night together."

"What if I'm seen? I can't just disappear like you."

"Hmmm... " Jack smiled as he had an idea.

Sometime later, Jack was walking along the deserted streets. Eben was by his side in his werewolf form. Every once in a while he shook his shaggy form, not liking the feel of the dog collar he wore, which was attached to a leash Jack held.

'This is not what I had in mind.' he telepathed to Jack. 'It's almost degrading!'

'Think of the irony,' Jack returned merrily. 'A vampire out taking his werewolf for walkies!'

Turing down a certain street, Jack paused before a modest townhouse.

'Why are we stopping?'

'Sense anything familiar?'

'Yes!' Eben acknowledged. "That scent... Is this where Adrian Singleton lives?"

'Yes. I thought you ought to know so you can tell the others.'

'I will,' returned Eben, noting the street they were on, Courtenay Court.

As Jack and Eben turned to retrace their steps, neither one was aware of the eyes upon them. Two well dressed Victorian gentlemen stood together in the shadow of a gate, as still as statues, more still than mortal flesh could ever be. One, a handsome, bronze skinned man with long black hair and an impressive beard to match, murmured to his companion, his words too low for mortal ears to hear.

"So that is a werewolf. I thought they were a legend."

"Like vampires, Leo?" the other breathed. "But the other one... did you sense his thoughts?"

"It was difficult. Someone has trained that fledgling well in concealing his thoughts."

"Not just any someone... "

Leo caught a name from his lover's mind.

"Philip! Can it be true? That one knew Basil?! It's been so long since we heard from him... "

"I intend to find out."

The rest of Jack and Eben's nocturnal explorations passed without incident. Returning to Fruitwood, Eben invited Jack to his room and, along with Hun Tzu, the three made love before Jack had to return to the spirit realm as dawn approached. When Jack went to the tree that was the portal, he found a letter tacked to it. 'Jack' was scrawled across the outside. He read the letter, an invitation, and at once opened his mind to the writer, whom he recognized from memories gained from Basil.

Thoughts flowed with supernatural speed between Jack and Basil's old comrades from Constantinople, Philip and Leo. The vampires had long been posing as English gentlemen, and currently they were living an elegant Victorian lifestyle by night. They were glad to know Marcus and Basil still lived, and thanked Jack for the news. They also invited him to return when there was more time to talk and Jack agreed before transitioning into the spirit realm.

In the next few days, Rupert brought his wife and son to Lionsgate while the heron men and their young valets bounced back and forth between Fruitwood and Lionsgate. Besides seeing the many sights of London, often in the entertaining company of Lord Lymprod, they also went with Rupert to Swansgrave Manor in order to escort Constantine and Eberhardine to a rented manor at Kingston-upon-Thames in a show of family support.

The pretrial publicity had humbled Eberhardine. The dowager baroness had reformed and sworn off meddling in her sons' affairs. She accepted Rupert's new wife and son fully, glad that there finally seemed to be an assured male succession to the ancient barony. She also said nothing about Phil's obviously close relationship with Al, Mark or the other Americans.

Hun Tzu opened trees wherever ones could be found at a discreet distance from the various manors they visited and Jack was able to carry messages back and forth. At last, they received word from Falling Star. The solution he came up with to their problem surprised his heron brothers with its simplicity, but they had to admit it sounded as if it would work, since they all knew well the reality of Falling Star's magic.

The night before the trial, Jack slipped into the courtroom at Kingston-upon-Thames unseen, easily avoiding the night watchman. Working quickly, he began looking for unobtrusive places around the chamber. In each nook and cranny he could find, he placed small fetishes the shaman had made, setting up a field of subtle energies within the chamber. Then he left as stealthily as he had come, hoping Falling Star knew what he was doing.

Phil and his friends were the first to arrive the next morning, and placed themselves in the back row, on either side of the main doors, to keep an eye on who came and went. Jack had told them he had done as the heron shaman directed before he returned to the spirit realm. As Al, Hun Tzu and Eben talked quietly, Mark turned to his lover, who looked worried.

"Don't fret, pard," he smiled, patting Phil's arm. "Falling Star hasn't ever failed us."

"I know," Phil responded as he watched more people file in. He stiffened as Adrian Singleton, his wife, his brother-in-law Lord Eurstone, and his wife, Phil's cousin Orabella, came in. They passed by without recognizing Phil. The big man turned to Mark. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered.

"I know," Mark whispered back as Eberhardine entered the courtroom and took her place. Her sons Constantine and Rupert sat nearby, as did Terrance and Clarence.

At last the trial began. After the official preliminaries were out of the way, the solicitor for Eberhardine, after some prodding by his employer, her son Constantine, and with the agreement of the prosecution, offered to bring forth a witness who would clear his client of the charges against her. The judge was as skeptical as the prosecution, who knew as well as anyone the nature of the evidence against the dowager baroness, but allowed them to proceed, with the stipulation that the prosecutor question the witnesses. The defense readily agreed.

"I call Adrian Singleton to the stand."

Adrian started. He had plainly not expected to be asked to give evidence, and for good reason. As far as he knew, no one had the slightest knowledge of his link to the poisoning. Apprehensively, he took the stand and the prosecutor, who believed questioning this witness was a complete waste of time, and possibly a ploy on the part of his opponent to drag things out, struck directly to the heart of the matter.

"Mr. Singleton, do you have any personal knowledge about this crime?"

He began to answer, but paused. A strange look crossed Adrian's face. His hand went to his throat.

"Sir?" the prosecutor prompted.

"Ye...ye...yes," the answer broke from Adrian's unwilling lips. There was a stir in the courtroom and the annoyed judge banged his gavel sharply at it. Hun Tzu leaned over and whispered to Eben.

"Falling Star's fetishes seem to be working. As he intended, no one within the field of subtle energies set up by the fetishes can lie."

As Eben nodded, the prosecutor frowned at Adrian.

"Indeed? May I remind you, sir, that the police have been soliciting information about this crime for some time? Why have you not come forward with what you know?"

"I... I was paid to stay silent," Adrian replied, provoking another stir in the courtroom. Again the judge banged his gavel and ordered silence.

Adrian's face showed he did not want to speak, but could not help himself. Lord Eurstone excused himself to his wife and rose to leave the courtroom. But as he approached the door, Phil stood to bar his way.

"Let me pass, you bearded lout!" he whispered indignantly.

"Why, Reginald, is that any way to greet a relative?"

"Philip!" he paled. "What are you doing here in England?"

"Who paid you to remain silent?" the prosecutor demanded.

"Please let me pass, Philip, I must go. I feel... " Reginald tried to say 'ill' but for some strange reason he could not say it. The power of Falling Star's fetishes were preventing even the most casual of lies from being spoken.

"You're about to feel a lot worse," rumbled Phil.

"My brother-in-law, Lord Eurstone."

At that, the whole court seemed to turn in the direction of the doors, where Lord Eurstone was standing with Phil.

"Bailiff!" barked the judge. "Do not let that man leave the court!"

As the cringing lord was led back to his seat, the prosecutor turned back to Adrian.

"What did he pay you to be silent about?"

"He... " Adrian struggled against the strange compulsion to confess, but to no avail. "He poisoned Rupert!" he blurted out, provoking another outburst from the court, which the judge stilled at once.

"How do you know this? Did you witness it?"

"No, he told me he had done it," Adrian wilted in defeat.

"Did he tell you why?"

"He hoped that his wife would succeed to the barony and he promised me I would get a share of the riches it controls."

Orabella gasped and looked incredulously at her husband. Of the other Caddell family members in court, only Phil did not react in the same way.

"I feel I must interrupt," the judge began. "As sensational as Mr. Singleton's testimony is, it is entirely hearsay."

"Yes, Milord, of course," said the prosecutor, shaken by the sudden turn the trial had taken. He had expected an open and shut case, not anything like this. "You are excused, but do not leave the court. Milord, I beg permission to call Lord Eurstone to the stand."

"So far, this proceeding has been highly unusual," the judge admitted, "but I will allow it."

"Now, Sir," the prosecutor addressed Lord Eurstone after he had taken the stand, "you have heard what your brother-in-law had to say. So I must ask you: did you poison Rupert Caddell?"

"I... I did." His words, like Adrian's came out unwillingly.

"Are you saying your statements to the police on this subject were false?"

"Yes," he admitted against his will.

"So you were not lost in a shrubbery maze with your wife on the evening of the crime?"

"When I overheard that Rupert had ordered some soup, I... went out to the maze with Orabella and separated myself from her on purpose." The lord's face was red with the effort as he strove to stop himself from speaking, but the words continued to spill out of him. "I had previously marked the way out of the maze and went back into the house by way of the servants' passage, where I saw Eberhardine leave the soup unattended. I dosed it with the poison and went back to my wife, who was still lost in the maze and naturally thought I had been in the same state. She knew nothing of my plans."

"Milord," the defense counsel called out, leaping to his feet, "I move for dismissal of all charges against my client!"

"Silence!" thundered the judge. He looked at Lord Eurstone. "Are you aware of what you are saying? You have just confessed to attempted murder! Are you saying this to spare your grandmother-in-law?"

"No," he replied, bowing his head.

"So you did do this crime?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes."

"Why are you confessing now?"

"I don't know!" he cried, jumping up from his seat. "Something is forcing me... I can't fight it!" He looked helplessly at his wife. "Forgive me, Orabella... "

Before anyone could stop him, the distraught lord drew a gun from his pocket and put it to his head. As wild shrieks went up from the onlooking women in the courtroom, he pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot was shockingly loud, making everyone recoil. Lord Eurstone fell heavily to the floor, blood and gray matter gushing horribly from a hole in the side of his head.

Adrian tried to make a break for the door, but Hun Tzu intercepted him. A simple marital arts blow rendered him unconscious. The incident almost went unnoticed amid the general tumult as the judge banged his gavel and bellowed for his bailiff to restore order and call for assistance.

Al helped Phil pick Adrian up off the floor so he would not be trampled by the exiting crowd and they moved to put him back in his seat. His wife was too busy with Orabella, who had fainted, to notice. Then Phil looked up in time to see his weeping grandmother being supported by her two sons as all three were ushered out through the judge's chambers.

"Let's get out of here," he told the others, who were more than ready to go.

"So I'm to have the honor of your final goodbyes?" Terrance asked as he and the heron men shared another bottle of old wine on the patio overlooking his gardens and the nearby Thames.

"Perhaps," began Phil, "perhaps not. There's a few things we wanted to speak with you about."

They were all back at Riverview, after a few weeks of bouncing back and forth between London, the Caddell estate in Surrey and Riverview as everything was sorted out in the aftermath of the sensational day in court. Now that Phil's family was relatively back to normal, the heron men were ready to return home and had said their farewells. Al also, who was looking forward to a new life with Phil and Mark in the valley of the heron. But they wanted to see Terrance last because of some dreams Falling Star had received concerning the good knight.

Terrance listened in growing wonder as Phil explained what had caused Lord Eurstone's confession. Having been stationed in San Francisco for many years, he had heard much about the ways of the Native Americans, but he had never guessed their magic was real. After seeing with his own eyes what had happened in court, he did not doubt Phil's story.

"Why are you telling me this, Philip?"

"Because Falling Star's spirit helpers have told him you are a man worthy of his tribe's brotherhood. He wants you to visit him."

"I'm very flattered, but I never plan to go back to America." Terrance glanced out towards the Thames and sighed. "I was looking forward to a quiet retirement here at my home."

"Was?" prompted Hun Tzu.

"Clarence has asked me to join him in London as part of an emergency diplomatic mission. It appears another war may break out soon on the Continent, between Prussia and France, and he wants experienced foreign servicemen like myself on his team."

"Will you stay with him in London?" asked Phil.

"Yes, of course... why do you ask?"

"There's one other thing I haven't told you about the Elxa tribe," Phil smiled. "It is composed only of men, men like you and us, men whose love is reserved only for others of their own sex."

Terrance looked at the handsome men and realized what he had suspected about them was true, but was still surprised.

"How... how did you know about me? Am I that obvious?"

"No," soothed Hun Tzu. "But the spirit helpers who protect and guide our tribe seek out men like us and tell Falling Star about them."

"And there were your servants," Eben smiled. "They made us very welcome, if you know what I mean."

"I do. I hired them because they were like me. I wanted Riverview to be a haven for them, where they could be themselves."

"By the way, thanks again for hiring Bill and Danny. I know they'll be loyal servants to you."

"I'm was glad to oblige you, Philip. But how could I be a part of your tribe? Lovely as it sounds, we're separated by an ocean and a continent."

"To explain that fully would make the story of the Elxa seem even more fantastic. Do you wish to hear more?"

"By all means. Do go on."

After Phil and the others finished explaining the other magicks known to the Elxa, Terrance had to agree it was extremely fantastic. But the proof was near at hand. He walked into the nearby woods with them and watched in wonder as Eben seemed to vanish into a great tree amid a strange, effulgent glow of eldritch light.

"So, Eben went to this 'spirit realm' you told me of?"

"Yes, and from there he will take another tree that will lead him to Falling Star's home in the southern Cascades, about three days' ride east from Port Bolon, where we met, remember?"

"Of course I remember. Egad, I know I belittled your appearance at first, but once I knew who you were, I saw Rupert in you, as he used to be when we were in college together."

"I know you love my uncle, and I'm glad for it. He'll need friends like you, especially when he accedes to the title, or for advice on how to handle Thomas as he grows up."

"I'm afraid all I know about children is how to spoil them," Terrance laughed. "Should we wait for Eben, or will he be gone for awhile?"

"Awhile, I think."

"I hope he won't be late for dinner. Gilbert promised me a grand farewell feast for you. But with this tree in my backyard, I hope you will use it often to visit. Perhaps we could let my servants in on its secrets as well, so they won't be surprised if you pop in at odd times."

"We'll speak to Falling Star about it when we see him."

"From what I know about them," added Mark, "your servants are heron man material too!"

"Shall we go back to the house then? And perhaps speak more about the Elxa?"

"Sure. There are many legends handed down to us from our heron brothers who lived long ago." began Phil. "I would be pleased to share them with you."

A tree near Lemolo Lake shimmered weirdly just before three men stepped directly out of its trunk. They looked around, two of them taking in the familiar sights. The third scanned his new home and found it beautiful. Then they looked at each other.

"God, but it's good to be home," Phil breathed.

"I agree," returned Mark, "but I think I'll miss that fancy English food!"

"We'll go back to visit Terrance soon," Phil promised as he took his lovers' hands. "But first we have to take Al to see Falling Star."

"Yeah," smiled Mark. "We gotta make a heron man out of you!"

"You said there was an... initiation?"

As they walked up the path, Phil and Mark spoke of the vision quests they had taken. Climbing higher, they saw their home. Almost at the same moment, two figures emerged from it and went towards them.

"Thanks for takin' care of our place while we was gone," Mark said to the pair of natives who had come to meet him and Phil when they saw them approaching.

"It was our pleasure." Heyoka responded as his lover nodded in agreement.

"We will eat well, later." Qoloma added.

"Oh? What have you made for us?" asked Phil.

"We have fillets of pike, fresh from the lake, crusted with acorn meal and deep fried in goose fat, infused with mint."

"And," Heyoka went on, "we have cakes of pemmican, smoked venison pounded with wild cherries, broiled with leeks in bear's fat."

"There is also a fine goose roasting, which I ought to return to. I would not want it to burn!"

"That sounds wonderful, Qoloma!" Mark grinned.

"See, pard?" Phil smiled as he poked his lover. "You don't have to go all the way to England for a gourmet meal!"

"Who is this?" asked Heyoka. Phil introduced Al and the natives welcomed him to the Elxa warmly.

"Now," smiled Phil, pulling Mark and Al to him as the natives went back to check on the progress of dinner, "I seem to remember Mark and I were in the middle of something when Jim brought Terrance's letter to me. Perhaps the three of us could carry on from there?"

"What were you doing?" Al asked.

"Well, I'd like to think Phil was gettin' ready to give me another good screwin' in the middle of that big patch of wild mint we found! Maybe you two could take turns on me!" suggested Mark.

"You get the blanket and the lube then!" the big man grinned. "Al and I will be waiting for you up by the mint patch!"

THE END

of Big Lord Otter

the first epilogue to the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"

submitted to www.nifty.org 1/26/2009