Charles finally settled into his own bed. Sleep came fitfully, plaguing him with dreams, dreams he feared would turn to nightmares. The past never let him go. It kept dragging him back under, over and over.

The Pickerel pub was full of young men fresh from dinner after their classes. Charles, for the first time in weeks, had been able to have an ale with a classmate. Being so much younger, he'd found it hard to make friends.

Peter Maltby, a student two years ...