Prologue

A ugust 1818

It may well have been the height of summer, and the weather more mild than usual, but Robert Tolley, the Duke of Saffron Walden, could think of a dozen other places he would rather be than lurking on the side of a dark, dusty road six miles out of London. Tucked up in his warm comfortable bed at home would have been top of that list.

But there were wicked deeds afoot tonight, and the Duke of Spice would never let his men deal with any danger that he himself wasn't prepared to face.

He glanced over at his senior man of business, and casually enquired, "How much gunshot do you have on your person, George?"

His second in charge slowly shook his head. He knew this was a trick question. It wasn't so much a case of the amount of ammunition he had with him, but more one of whether he was prepared to use it.

"Your Grace, I have enough to put down any man who fancies himself as a hero. Hopefully we don't encounter that sort of fool tonight."

Robert gruffly chuckled. There were few men willing to put themselves in real danger for a wagon load of spice, but experience had taught him that it always paid to be prepared. Regrets were something he'd decided that only dead highwaymen could afford to have. If it meant the choice between his own death or living to see another day, his pistol would make that decision.

"What's meant to be onboard this shipment tonight?"

Another test.

"The usual. Opium, which we won't steal. Mace, black pepper, and some ginger. Oh, and of course the obligatory tins of saffron," replied George.

He'd never taken a fancy to opium, deciding it was something that any sensible man should do his utmost to avoid. Robert drew back on his cheroot; he could handle tobacco. Truth be told, his main interest in tonight's haul lay in the tins of saffron and making sure that none of them made it onto the London culinary market. If the restauranters of the English capital couldn't source their spices from the Honorable East India Company, they would have to get them from him.

A low whistle split the night, stirring Robert from his thoughts of his latest moneymaking endeavor.

George raised his arm, holding his lit lantern high. He waved it from left to right. Across the other side of the narrow dark roadway, another light appeared, mirroring his action. Message received and understood.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, Your Grace. The rock is in place on the road just past the bend, and our crew has moved into position."

No mistakes. No stupid risks. Get the spices, then go home.

Robert put his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a pistol. Lifting a cloth bandana to cover the lower half of his face, he cocked the weapon, and stood listening. The sound of heavy wheels on the road along with the whining of a team of horses soon reached his ears.

"Bloody hell. Who put that there?" swore the driver of the wagon as he drew his team up sharp. The large rock had done its job. The road ahead was blocked.

Taking a deep calming breath, Robert stepped out of the darkness and into the middle of the road. He aimed the pistol straight at the man's head. "Now be a good chap and climb down from the wagon. If you go stand with my crew, this will all be over very soon, and you can be on your way."

His wagon would be a touch lighter, but if the driver did as told, he would be left uninjured. The Duke of Saffron Walden was an unrepentant thief, but he had no taste for violence.

The man held up his hands. "I must protest and inform you that these goods belong to the Honorable East India Company. That what you are doing is a crime, punishable by death."

Still holding the pistol, Robert gave a brief nod. "Yes. Yes, of course. Protest heard and noted. If we are caught, I shall make certain that your superiors are informed of your valiant refusal to simply hand over their property." He waved the pistol in the air, motioning in the direction of where the man should go. "Now climb down, and let's get this over and done with. The sooner you do, the quicker we can all go home to bed."

Robbing people in the middle of the night was a dangerous and illegal endeavor, but it still paid to be polite. Even a highwayman should never leave his manners at home.

The driver did as he was bade. The moment his feet touched the ground, he was joined by two of Robert's men who ushered him to a spot out of the way, where they silently stood guard over him.

Robert, in turn, kept a close watch on the road while the rest of his men began to unload the spice barrels and sacks, carrying them over to another waiting wagon.

He constantly looked and listened for any other approaching horses. At the first sign of trouble, George would blow his whistle, and they would all immediately flee. Saffron might well be an expensive commodity, but it wasn't worth the price of the hangman's noose.

When the spices had finally been transferred to his own wagon and the men in his employ had melted into the night, Robert tipped his hat to the wagon driver. "A good evening to you, sir. Thank you for your kind cooperation. It was nice doing business with you."

He then followed his crew and disappeared into the cover of the trees which lined the side of the road. The driver of the East India wagon, along with his few remaining barrels and crates, was left to begin the unhappy journey onward to London to report the theft to his masters.

But by the time the directors of the East India had been informed that yet another of their cargos had been seized, the spices would have been transferred into new barrels and readied for sale on the black market.

A few miles further west of London, along a narrow laneway, Robert caught up with the wagon. He and George examined the haul.

It looked to be a good one, and yet another strike against the corrupt monopoly of the East India Company. He took great pleasure in knowing that every single grain of spice he stole from his arch nemesis would eventually form the path which led to its destruction.

The Duke of Spice had been stealing spice from under the EIC's nose for close to three years, but he wasn't a fool. He knew his luck would have to eventually run out.

And when it did, and his enemy decided to put real effort into dealing with the pesky problem of shrinkage, the East India would come at him with unrestrained violent force.

But they'll have to find me first.

Robert finished checking the stolen spices and got back on his horse. "I'll see you at Tolley House in the morning, George. I've got some more work to get completed tonight."

Leaving George and a couple of his other trusted collaborators with the task of bringing the wagon secretly into London, the Duke of Saffron Walden headed for the main road. He had a stack of parliamentary papers to wade through before midday. But it was the opening line for his restaurant review in the Morning Herald newspaper which concentrated his mind.

"Dear valued reader…"