The Colour of Night
“Brax’s honour” has come to be a commonly-accepted phrase upon the highways and byways of the realm. To the thinking of the common folk, it signifies a pledge by the highwayman to never knowingly visit harm upon them . . . but, rather, to prey upon the well-heeled gentry. Indeed, coins that sometimes mysteriously appear for the benefit of widows, orphans, and those unfortunates who are otherwise in dire straits are often attributed to the selfsame Brax. It is also recounted that Brax’s pledged word is like unto steel.
To be sure, few, if any, could ever positively testify as to having seen the gentleman in question. Various tales were told of his bold stare or his manly countenance . . . or his coal-black devil’s steed – but they were merely that – tales.
All that the commoners could truly tell in answer to the insistent inquiries of the Duke’s patrols were half-superstitious mutterings about a will-o’-the-wisp who blazed past on the moon-silvered highways in a cacophony of ghostly hoof-beats.