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“Because although I touched the book only briefly, it felt…” He glances toward one of the library’s many bookcases. “It didn’t feel the way a book should feel. It was sticky and oily, and afterwards, I felt the oil had clung to my skin. I must have washed my hands a dozen times that afternoon, but for a few nights afterwards I had terrible dreams.”

“What did the book look like?”

He stares into the distance, obviously searching his memory. “Black leather stuffed with loose leaf papers and held together by a scarlet leather thong. There was some writing on the cover, but I never saw what it was.”

“Did he know about what you and Branok were to each other?”

“Yes, I think so. I had the sense that he was of the same disposition.”

“Gay, you mean?” My eyes widen.

“Is that what they call it now? Yes, I think men like us have a sense when other men share that feeling?” When I nod in agreement, he says, “He never seemed judgemental, and he was so kind in looking for Bran and dealing with my emotions.”

“Do you remember anything else about that week?”

He sighs. Is it my imagination or is he getting fainter?

“It was a dreadful time. The whole community was rushing here and there. No one had the time to listen to me ask after Bran.”

“Why?”

“A ship had wrecked that week in the cove—the Mary Jane. It held passengers bound for the Americas and as such it was carrying a lot of possessions and wealth. The local magistrate had a heart attack and died. Boynton was very occupied with his funeral and sometimes couldn’t accompany me on my search for Bran.”

“I’m sorry,” I say gently, and he gives me a sad smile. I wonder if I should tell him that Boynton was involved with the wreckers. Perhaps not. I don’t think we have much time left for this conversation.

“It was hard to see everyone occupied with their own business,” he says. “It seemed impossible to me that the world continued to turn when I knew my love was dead.”

“How did you know?”

“Would you not know if Mr Billings was dead?”

I shiver. “Yes, I think so,” I say slowly.

“Aye, well. There you are.”

“How was Branok the days before his death?”

He considers the question. He’s definitely getting fainter and I will him to talk faster.

“He was distant,” he finally says. “As if he had something of great importance on his mind. Whatever it was, it both occupied him and greatly aggravated him. It also made him sad,” he finishes slowly. “And that was not an emotion Bran showed easily.”

“And you have no idea what it was?”

“Nay. But I think he had come to some decision about it. When I saw him on the Saturday, he seemed in lighter spirits. Not happy in the slightest, but as if he had come to a decision that had long eluded him. It was unusual for us because he told me everything. We had no secrets between us. I asked him and he told me he couldn’t say, but that I was not to worry. He was sorting out the problem.”

Jowan stirs. “The captain would have sorted it. He always did the right thing,” he says with a stubborn sort of loyalty that’s very touching.

“What about you?” Xander says affectionately. “What do you remember, Jowan?”

The little man considers him solemnly. “He told me naught, but I felt the same as you. There was summit bothering the captain. He pulled me to the side on the Friday and made me vow to watch over your lordship and make sure no harm came to you.”

Xander jerks. “Did he? I did not know that.”

Jowan nods. “It fair bothered me, too. The captain wasn’t easily spooked, so it had to be bad for him to say something like that.”

“What could it be?” Xander looks at me. His form has become very faint now. “Was any of that important? I fear it was merely minutiae.”

“I think everything to do with the circumstances in Porthkrogour during that time are probably important. We’ll find a way to help you and Branok,” I add gently.