“I always laughed at those gulls who thought going on the highway was the way to become a gentleman. I saw them riding in handcuffs to the tree in their velvet lapels, with lasses of the town pretending to weep for them. And I laughed at them—for I knew that was not how it was done. It should be blood, and business, and keep your dreams in your head.

“Then your cursed ballad changed everything. All my men started hearing they were my Gallant Company of Merry Rogues, and they took a liking to it. Then one evening, I came upon a big man in a black cap bullying two village lasses. They hailed me as if they knew me—they didn’t ask me to help them, they beamed and told Black Cap that now I was there they would surely see his crown broken. So he rounded on me, and so I rounded on him, and . . . tapped his claret for him. He ran off with his broken nose, and I found myself with a bundle of rosemary and half a rye cake in thanks. I could hardly peel their arms from round my neck. Well, that . . .”

Blythe looked distracted and waved a finger.

“That bit was not so bad. But word got out. Black Cap was a beadle, it turned out, with a turn for bullying extra tax, and by morning the new songs had it that I was defending the poor and helpless against the Duke’s men. I was a hero standing between little lowly folk and their oppressors. And the little lowly folk believed it, and so did the oppressors, right up to the Duke himself, His Grace of the Cloven Brain.” Blythe ran a distracted hand over his hair. “The Duke’s men searched every garret and barn for us. But the villagers hid us in cellars, they fed us and lent us their best boots when ours were run to rags, then turned hopeful eyes on us because they knew we had come to help them. So somehow I found myself stopping families being thrown out of their cottages, and beating off tax men so that villagers could eat that night.

“I was taken sick with an ague after hiding in the heather for three nights, and a family of farmers smuggled me into Mandelion in their market cart to find a physician. I have lain low in this coffeehouse ever since, and cannot show my face for fear of the constables.

“Your damnable way with words has brought me to this pass. I am leader of a valiant resistance, whether I will or nay, and trapped beyond my wits to remedy. Any suggestions?”

Clent cleared his throat. He took some time about it, and Mosca guessed that his feverish mind was searching for words.