Time Slips & Tax Thieves, page 6
part #4 of Time Travelling Taxman Series
“Just?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“Well, this place. And…and those two clowns.”
“You mean, Justin and Freddo?”
He nodded. “It’s just…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. I mean, me – with Justin?”
Nancy was watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite make out. “You really are upset about that, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “No. I mean, maybe a little.”
“It’s not…well, it’s not because he’s gay, is it? The other Alfred?”
He frowned at her. “Of course not, Nance. It’s because it’s Justin. I mean, of all the people to end up with…Justin? It couldn’t be one of the other guys at the office, someone, I don’t know, human?”
She laughed, and seemed relieved. “Alright. But, I mean, if they’re happy babe, what does it matter?”
He sighed. “I know. He’s got terrible taste, but that’s his problem. But it’s not just that.”
“Then what?”
“Do you…do you believe in soulmates, Nance?”
She considered for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I believe some people are perfect for each other.” She brought her face closer to his, pecking at his lips. “Better than perfect, maybe. If that’s what soulmates are, then, yeah, sure I believe in them.”
He pulled away, turning back to the fire. “Do you believe in the kind of love that’s just…I don’t know…destined to be?”
She didn’t answer at once, but when she did, her tone was quiet. “I don’t know. But, honestly, Alfred? Those are pretty heavy questions. I mean, it sounds nice, but there’s a lot of perquisites there that I’m not sure I can accept. I don’t know if I even believe in destiny or fate.”
“But you and me…” He turned back to her, and she was studying him with eyes that seemed sad. “I mean, don’t you think that us ending up together, especially after everything…well, there was some kind of Providence at play?”
She moved a little closer, taking his hand in hers and studying it for a moment. “Maybe. Sometimes I think, what are the odds of Caspersen putting you and me together on the Futureprise case?”
“Exactly.”
“But, then, it made sense too: you were the analyst working it, I’m the IT team lead. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it wasn’t.” She glanced up at him now. “Does it matter, either way? I mean, we found each other. That’s what counts, right?”
“I know. It’s just…I used to think that, even if things had been different, we still would have found each other somehow. That our love was bigger than a set of circumstances. Because…well, because you’re my soulmate.”
“Used to?”
“Now…now I don’t know. I mean, in their universe, I’m in love with Justin. Justin. And you’re married to Josh.”
She shrugged. “Maybe we’re soulmates in our universe, but not theirs. Or maybe there’s no such thing as soulmates and destiny, Alfred. Maybe soulmates are the people we choose to be with, to love.”
“Hmm.” Somehow, the answer left him unsatisfied, as if something of the beauty of their love would be diminished without a guiding hand drawing them together. As if their story had been tarnished with these new possibilities. “Maybe.”
She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know, babe. But what I do know is, I love you. And I don’t care if we’re soulmates. I don’t care if it was fate that brought us together or not. All I care about is that I love you, and you love me.”
Chapter Ten
Talking with Nancy hadn’t entirely set Alfred’s mind at ease, but it had granted him enough peace of mind to get to sleep, at least. And when he woke, he felt a little better, and a little more optimistic.
Nancy was quiet and pensive, and now and then he’d catch her watching him with blue eyes full of uncertainty. And he regretted his words from the night before. There was no way to take them back, though.
He took her hand instead, and turned the conversation toward other topics. Whatever the implications of their words the night before, the fact remained, he loved her. That wouldn’t change. His notions about love might need to be readjusted.
But he loved Nancy Abbot, and however much the other variables might shift, that, at least, was a constant.
“So,” he said, “about us getting home…”
“I don’t think we’re going home, Alfred. Not this time. Unless we turn up some big surprises in the population centers, this world’s tech is a thousand years behind what we need.”
He nodded glumly. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“I’m sorry. Believe me, I wish I had better news.”
He squeezed her hand. “Hey,” he said, “cheer up, babe. We’ve got each other, at least.”
She smiled, but it was a cautious smile. “Right.”
“We’ll figure out how to adapt,” he continued. “You’re the smartest person I know, Nance. And I’m not entirely bereft of means myself.”
She rolled her eyes at his self-deprecation. “You’re the smartest person I know, Alfred.”
He grinned. “You really need to expand your circle of acquaintance.” He kissed her now, long and tenderly. “But we will figure this out, Nancy Abbot. We will make it work.”
She smiled again, and this time the smile reached her eyes. “Alright.”
“Now, to start with, let’s see about getting you a change of clothes. You’re going to catch your death of cold – and maybe skin cancer too – in those shorts.”
“I’m pretty sure skin cancer is the least of our worries,” she told him. “I doubt the life expectancy here is long enough for it to be a concern.”
“Either way,” he declared, choosing to ignore her grim speculation.
They found Robert Whod at the campfire already, a little grayer than yesterday. “Well, well, bards. Methinks your arrival was a good portent. Anything that gives rise to a party like last night must portend good things, eh?”
Alfred thought the outlaw looked hungover and in generally rough shape, but it seemed polite to agree. And, he did. Then, he asked, “Actually, Robert, we had a favor to ask, if we can impose on your generosity a little more?”
“Of course. You are our guests. What can we do for you?”
“Where we’re from…it’s a little warmer,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie, even if it was deceptive. “I wonder if maybe someone in camp has a spare change of clothes that Nance could borrow?”
He nodded. “And probably that Justin fellow will need one too. You and your brother planned for the woods. But we’ll see if we can get you a change of clothes anyway. Something that’ll draw less attention.”
“Oh.” Alfred was nonplussed by that. He liked his own clothes. Tights, or stockings, or whatever these men wore, might be the fashion here, but he could scarce imagine anything less appealing. “Well, actually…”
But Robert’s attention had already moved on. “Guinevere?” he called.
A youngish woman appeared a few moments later. “You called, Robert?”
“I did, darling. Our guests are going to need a change of clothes. Can you figure something out?”
She nodded. “Of course. Right away. Miss Nancy, if you like, you can come with me.”
“Oh,” Nancy said. “Uh, sure.”
The two women left, and Robert watched them go with a smile. “A good woman, my Gwen.” He gestured to one of the stumps, for Alfred to take a seat. “She came with me, you know, when I fell out with the law. Gave up everything, without a complaint. Followed me here. That was before I got the band together. It was just us then, just me and her and the kids.” He shook his head. “There were days, I tell you, when I wasn’t sure we’d make it. When I hadn’t seen a deer in weeks, and the food was low. When the baby would scream with hunger, and my poor Gwen’d be at her wits’ end trying to keep us all fed on scraps.”
A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “When you see your family reduced to that, you don’t forget it, bard. And you don’t forget the woman who stood at your side, either.”
Alfred nodded slowly, and the outlaw scrutinized him for a moment. “Your Nancy: I think she’s that kind of woman, eh?”
He smiled. “Yes.” She’d stood by him through more than most would have endured, hadn’t she? They’d passed through time, outran government agents, outfoxed devious killers; and she’d always stayed at his side. “She is, my Nance.”
Robert nodded. “Good. A man needs a woman like that. She’s the marrying kind.” He grinned now. “Not that there’s not still plenty of use for the other kinds, if you get my drift. But it’s good to have that kind tending the hearth fires.”
Alfred frowned, but before the conversation could progress any further, William Gamwell and then John Naylor stumbled over to join them. “I drank too much,” the big man declared, rather unnecessarily. He looked like he’d bareknuckle boxed a bear, and lost. His cheeks were puffy, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, and his step clumsy.
“You’re just old,” William said with a smirk. “Young men don’t have a problem holding their liquor.”
“Better long in the tooth than short in the brain,” the older man shot back.
“Unfortunate for you, then, that you wound up short in the brain and the trousers,” came the rejoinder.
“Well, good to see you men in fine form,” Robert laughed. “But hang onto that fighting spirit. We’re going to need it.”
Here, the two outlaws turned their attention to their leader, knowing grins spreading across their face. “Aye, that’s today, isn’t it?”
“I nearly forgot.”
Alfred frowned. “What’s today?”
The three outlaws exchanged glances. “You’re new to Yngil-wode, bard,” Robert said in a moment. “But I have a good feeling about you. I trust you.”
The taxman nodded. He considered this to be a sign of good judgment on the outlaw’s part, and he respected him for it.
“We’re planning a surprise for our friend, Lord Rickman.”
Alfred blinked. “A…surprise?” Something told him this wasn’t the surprise-birthday-party kind of surprise.
Robert grinned. “When we found you yesterday? We were on the way back from scouting out Warwick-on-Eden, and the gaudy new monument that vain son-of-a-bitch has put up there.”
“Warwick-on-Eden?” Alfred repeated. It was a curious name.
“It’s a town, on the river Edin.”
“Ah.”
“It used to be a great town in its own right, humble and honest. His lordship has much grander plans for it, though. It’s not enough to be home to honest men and free laborers.” Whod shook his head. “He’s decided to remake the town in his own image.”
“And tax the residents into early graves to do it,” John growled.
A new voice, Allan Clare’s, offered, “He loves his taxes, does Lord Rickman.” The young man plopped down beside the others.
“He does at that,” Robert agreed.
Here, Alfred found himself in the unhappy position of defending the tyrant, if only just. “Well, like law, taxes serve the greater good when justly applied.”
Robert laughed, but then broke off as the taxman stared, bewildered. “Wait…you weren’t joking?”
“Of course not.”
Four sets of bewildered eyes turned to him. Allan spoke first, scrunching his youthful features into a fierce scowl. “Taxation is theft, bard. Everyone knows that.”
It was Alfred’s turn to laugh. “Theft? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“What’s nonsense?” a familiar voice asked. His own voice. Except, of course, it wasn’t his, but Freddo’s. He glanced up to see Justin and his other-worldly twin joining them.
“Allan here just said something…well, I don’t even want to repeat it.”
Freddo turned wary eyes at the youngest member of their group. “I don’t want to hear it, then.”
“It was just the truth,” William scoffed. “He said taxation was theft.”
The three taxmen exchanged glances. Freddo laughed out loud, a deep, rolling belly laugh. Justin snorted a chortle, that seemed to come out of his nose somehow. And Alfred laughed again.
Robert frowned at the trio. “I don’t understand why this amuses you.”
“It’s just…well, I don’t mean offense,” Alfred hastened to say. They were, after all, deeply in the outlaw’s debt. “But I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so ludicrous.” It was a little too galling to allow much room for diplomacy.
“Taxation is the glue that binds society,” Freddo said. “It’s the engine that drives that shared promise, that moves the joint venture of a civilization forward.”
“It’s the promise every member of a civilized world makes the others,” Justin added. “That we’re in this together. That we will pay our dues and take care of our fellow man and be part of something that is larger than the individual.”
“It’s what staves off chaos,” Alfred put in. “Taxes are what elevates our world from the baser animals. Taxes are stability. Taxes are roads and defense, schools and hospitals, police and firefighters. They’re the common good versus personal greed.”
The outlaws stared at them blankly for several long seconds. “Wow,” Robert said at length. “That…wow.”
“You sound like a bunch of tax collectors,” John scoffed.
Alfred frowned. “Well,” he started, “actually…”
He cut off as John continued, “And I’ve half a mind to string you up by your thumbs and use you for target practice, just for talking like that in these woods.”
The taxman gulped, pressing his thumbs behind his palms. He laughed nervously. “I’m sure the, uh, woods wouldn’t want to see that.”
“These are the freemen’s woods,” the big man reminded him. “They’re the home of men who swear no fealties. Who pay no taxes.”
Robert raised a hand. “It’s fine, John. These folks aren’t from around here. Anyway, a difference of opinion never hurt anyone.”
“Exactly,” Alfred hastened to agree.
“It is a strange stance, though, bard. I mean, taxation is taking what a man has earned. It’s picking his pocket for someone else’s benefit.”
“It can be,” Alfred said. “When you’ve got a tyrant like Rickman, sure. But where we’re from? Taxes are like the law: they serve us.”
A round of scoffs ensued. “Theft cannot serve the people.”
“It’s not theft. It’s what we owe, it’s our contribution to our roads and schools, to our police and fire departments.”
“I have no idea what those are,” Robert admitted. “But I owe no one anything.”
“But you have roads, right? And you use the roads, don’t you?”
“Sure.”
“Isn’t it theft to use something you didn’t build, without paying for what you use?”
Robert frowned at him. “I didn’t ask anyone to build the roads.”
“No, but you still use them.” Alfred tried to keep the exasperation out of his tone.
“Because they’re there.”
“And if you use them, don’t you owe the people who did build them? The citizens’ whose taxes paid for them?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Well, because I didn’t ask them to build them. And I’m sure the market would have figured something out eventually. Freely, without stealing tax revenue from unwilling citizens.”
“Then stay off them,” Freddo snorted. “If you’re not willing to pay your fair share to keep your civilization running, why should you reap the benefits of it?”
The outlaws stared at them again, and John declared, “I don’t like your tone, little man.”
Robert waved this away. “Well, we clearly don’t agree on economic theory, my friends. But come: we have more pressing matters.”
“Rickman’s surprise,” Alfred remembered. Taxes, it seemed, was a dangerous topic here. Not least of all, considering John’s murderous designs on taxmen. It seemed prudent to change the topic.
“Exactly. Today, we liberate a hospital full of medical supplies for the common people.”
“When you say ‘liberate,’” Freddo wondered, “do you mean…steal?”
“I mean, liberate from the clutches of a tyrant. I mean take from the oppressor, and give to the oppressed.”
“So, that’s a ‘yes’ on stealing?”
Robert shrugged. “Sure. But for a righteous cause. So, you boys in?”
Chapter Eleven
Alfred felt it right to agree to this venture, seeing as how they were beholden to the outlaws for their shelter and provender. Still, he wasn’t thrilled with the idea. This was real life, not one of the videogames Nance liked to play. The bows and arrows Lord Rickman’s men would be using, the swords and maces and spears, would be the real deal. They’d slice and pierce and skewer real flesh.
And they’d be no health packs, no healing potions, no restarts. Hummus. There won’t even be a proper hospital. The image of himself bleeding out in one of these squalid tents, while a medieval hack attempted to piece him back together, filled his mind. And he shivered.
Freddo’s voice, now, interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up. “Well,” he was asking Justin, “I suppose I look like a nameless extra on a low budget film right about now?”
Alfred scrutinized his doppelganger, and had to admit, the description fit rather well. His rough tunic and cloak were patched and mismatched, and didn’t quite fit right. It looked the sort of thing that might happen when a costume department reached the end of their stash. Justin, though, laughed, and pulled Freddo into a kiss. “You look incredibly sexy, actually.”
The taxman wrinkled his nose at the pair of them, the one for lying in so blatant and shameless a fashion, and the other being sucker enough to eat every word up with a stupid simper.
“Well, Favero?” Justin asked. “You going to get changed?”
Alfred glanced at the pile of clothes on his lap and grimaced. “I suppose I’d better,” he agreed. “But I’m not wearing the stupid hat.”
