The Golden Suspect
Chapter One Homer Cavett remembered the weight of the gold not as a burden on his brow but as a cold, hard pressure against the wet skin of his forehead, a sensation that had seeped into his bones during the long, wet siege of Acre, where the mud of the siege lines had swallowed the distinction between the living and the dead. He was forty-two then, a captain who had risen through the ranks by...
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