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Drawing　his　sword；　he　moved　into　the　keep’s　dark　interior。
He　passed　through　its　empty　halls；　his　expression　betraying　none　of　his　surging　emotions。　The　inside
of　the　keep　was　now　open　to　the　sky；　the　upper　floors　completely　gone；　and　the　stars　were　visible　high
overhead。　A　few　thick　supporting　beams　remained　intact；　but　even　these　were　charred　and　looked　as
though　they　might　fall　at　any　moment。　The　grand　stone　staircase　that　rose　from　the　main　entrance　hall　still
stood；　rendered　pointless　now　that　it　climbed　nowhere；　and　its　steps　were　thick　with　ash。
Bones　and　scraps　of　armour　protruded　from　the　debris　in　one　hall；　and　these　Calard　inspected
carefully；　turning　them　over　in　his　hands　in　an　attempt　to　discern　what　tragedy　had　befallen　his　home。
Chipped　bone　showed　evidence　of　heavy　sword　blows；　and　as　he　prowled　deeper　into　the　ruin；　he　found
more　evidence　that　a　great　battle　had　taken　place　here　some　years　earlier。
Without　conscious　thought；　Calard　found　himself　in　a　small　annex　off　the　western　wing；　where　the
castle’s　shrine　to　the　Lady　was　located。　No　divine　power　had　protected　it　from　the　fire　that　had　clearly
ravaged　the　keep；　and　only　a　few　jagged　shards　remained　of　its　once　beautiful　stained…glass　windows。
Something　caught　his　eye；　and　Calard　sheathed　his　sword　and　knelt　before　the　fire…blackened　altar。
Half…buried　amongst　the　rubble；　a　small　statue　of　the　Lady　remained　intact；　lying　on　its　side。　It　was
covered　in　soot　and　chipped；　but　Calard　picked　it　up　and　placed　it　reverently　upon　the　altar。　Closing　his
eyes；　he　began　to　pray。
There　was　noise　outside　and　Calard　was　instantly　on　his　feet；　sword　drawn。　Moving　silently　and
keeping　to　the　shadows；　he　ghosted　back　through　the　ruined　hall。
‘Master？’　called　a　voice。
‘Silence；　fool；’　Calard　hissed；　stepping　from　the　concealing　darkness　of　the　ruined　keep。
‘What　happened　here；　master？’　said　Chlod。　He　half…climbed；　half…fell　from　the　saddle；　and　tied　his
mule　to　the　post　alongside　Calard’s　steed。
Calard’s　eyes　were　locked　on　the　ground　at　the　peasant’s　feet。
‘Stand　still；’　he　ordered。
‘What？’　said　Chlod；　turning　in　Calard’s　direction。
‘Be　still！　Stop　moving；’　said　Calard；　and　the　peasant　froze。　Calard　moved　forward；　studying　the
ground　intently。　There　were　prints　in　the　mud　that　he　had　not　noticed　earlier。　‘Back　away　over　there；’　he
said；　gesturing。
‘Shall　I　prepare　you　some　food；　master？’　said　Chlod；　doing　as　he　was　bid。
‘Fine；　but　no　fire；’　said　Calard；　not　looking　up。　‘It　would　be　seen　for　miles　around。’
Careful　not　disturb　the　tracks；　Calard　crouched　and　studied　them　intently。　They　were　difficult　to　read；
for　the　prints　were　old　and　crossed　over　themselves　time　and　again。　Nevertheless；　after　several　minutes
Calard　had　identified　the　tracks　of　nine　separate　individuals　and　their　steeds。　He　judged　that　they　had
made　camp　here　a　week　ago；　perhaps　two。
His　eyes　narrowed　when　he　came　across　one　particularly　clear　hoof…print。　The　depth　of　the　track
indicated　a　horse　heavily　burdened；　and　the　mark　of　its　shoe　was　clear。　In　the　centre　of　the　imprint　was
the　blacksmith’s　mark。　Calard　recognised　the　heraldic　device　instantly。
‘Sangasse；’　Calard　spat。
Standing；　Calard　marched　towards　his　waiting　warhorse；　and　called　for　Chlod　to　make　ready　to
depart。

‘Where　do　we　go；　master？’　said　the　peasant　as　he　hurriedly　began　packing　up　his　pots。
‘To　visit　an　old　neighbour；’　said　Calard；　his　voice　filled　with　rage。
II
‘MALORIC！’
The　sky　glowed　with　pre…dawn　light。　The　peasants　of　Sangasse　had　been　awake　for　hours；　working
the　muddy　fields。　Many　of　them　had　halted　their　work　as　Calard　had　passed　by；　leaning　on　hoes　and
muttering　under　their　breath。　Calard　had　ignored　them；　his　head　held　high　and　his　face　a　grim　mask。
Though　they　were　neighbours；　no　knight　of　Garamont　had　set　foot　on　Sangasse　lands　for　over　six
generations　without　blood　being　spilt。　The　border　between　the　two　powerful　noble　families　had　long　been
disputed；　changing　hands　countless　times　over　the　centuries。　As　Calard　had　ridden　towards　the　border；
his　anger　had　deepened；　for　it　was　clear　that　the　Sangasse　family　had　claimed　much　of　Garamont’s　land
in　his　absence。　By　the　time　he　arrived　outside　the　gates　of　Castle　Sangasse；　a　formidable　bastion　built
atop　a　natural　rocky　bluff；　his　rage　was　incandescent。
‘Maloric！’　he　bellowed　again；　wheeling　his　warhorse　beneath　him。
Nervous　men…at…arms　looked　down　from　the　castle　walls　at　him。　All　of　them　were　garbed　in　tabards
bearing　the　heraldry　of　Maloric；　the　Earl　of　Sangasse。　Maloric　and　Calard　were　of　a　similar　age　and　had
a　long　history　of　antagonism。　Since　childhood　they　had　been　raised　to　loathe　one　another；　and　even
though　they　had　fought　side　by　side　on　dozens　of　occasions；　even　going　so　far　as　saving　each　other’s　lives
on　the　field　of　battle；　they　could　never　be　anything　but　rivals。
Chlod　licked　his　lips。　Hundreds　of　bowmen　were　stationed　along　the　walls；　and　a　pair　of　mighty
trebuchets　were　positioned　atop　the　gatehouse。　Scores　of　men…at…arms　barred　the　way；　shields　locked
together。　Calard　was　undaunted；　refusing　to　be　intimidated　by　mere　peasants。
‘Show　yourself；　Maloric！’　he　shouted。　‘Calard；　Castellan　of　Garamont　demands　it！’
At　last；　a　young　knight　appeared　atop　the　gatehouse。　His　hair　was　dishevelled　and　he　was　still
blinking　the　sleep　out　of　his　eyes。　Calard　did　not　recognise　him。
‘What　is　it　you　seek　here；　Garamont？’　called　the　knight。
‘Fetch　your　master；　and　be　quick　about　it；’　shouted　Calard。　‘I　will　not　bandy　words　with　you　or　any
of　Maloric’s　lackeys。’
Chlod　winced　as　the　knight’s　face　reddened　and　several　archers　nocked　arrows　to　strings。
‘Speak　to　me　in　such　a　tone　again；　Garamont；　and　you　will　be　cut　down　where　you　stand；’　shouted
back　the　knight。　‘Speak　your　piece　quickly；　or　take　your　leave！’
‘I　am　a　Questing　Knight　of　the　Lady；’　shouted　Calard。　‘Any　man　who　dares　loose　an　arrow　in　my
direction　will　be　cursed　by　the　goddess；　as　shall　you　if　you　give　the　order。　Now　be　gone　from　my　sight；　I
am　done　talking　to　you。　I　will　speak　to　Maloric；　and　no　one　else。　Fetch　him　from　his　bed　if　sleeping　past
dawn　is　his　habit。’
His　face　flushed；　the　knight　turned　and　disappeared　from　sight。
For　long　minutes；　Calard　and　Chlod　waited　while　men…at…arms　and　peasant　bowmen　shuffled　their
feet　awkwardly。　Chlod　tried　to　shrink；　making　himself　as　inconspicuous　as　possible；　while　Calard　paced
back　and　forth　before　the　gatehouse；　his　mount　snorting　and　stamping　its　hooves　in　agitation。
Finally；　the　ranks　of　the　men…at…arms　in　front　parted；　and　an　elderly　knight　appeared；　his　expression
cold。　This　knight　Calard　recognised；　though　he　could　not　recall　his　name。　The　knight　bowed　curtly；　just
low　enough　not　to　be　openly　discourteous。

‘The　Earl　of　Sangasse　and　his　lady　bid　you　welcome；　Calard　of　Garamont；’　said　the　knight。　‘My　lord
is　currently　sitting　for　breakfast；　and　asks　that　you　join　him。’
Calard　dismounted；　and　a　peasant　ran　forwards　to　take　his　reins。
‘Stay　with　the　horses；’　he　said　to　Chlod；　before　turning　back　towards　the　knight　of　Sangasse。
‘Lead　on；’　said　Calard。
The　knight　nodded；　and　turned　on　his　heel；　leading　the　way　into　Castle　Sangasse。
‘CALARD；　WHAT　A　pleasant　surprise；’　said　Maloric　with　a　sardonic　half…smile。　‘I　thought　you　were　dead。
’
The　earl　was　a　lean　man　in　his　early　thirties；　handsome　in　an　angular；　sharp…featured　way。　His　hair
was　pale　and　he　sported　a　slender　goatee　beard。　His　clothes　were　finely　made；　and　edged　in　silver。　A
long　table　laid　with　a　spread　fit　for　the　king　himself　was　before　him。　The　rich　aromas　made　Calard’s
stomach　knot；　and　he　began　to　salivate　despite　himself；　it　had　been　weeks　since　he　had　eaten　a　meal　not
prepared　by　his　manservant　Chlod；　who　was　a　poor　cook　at　best。
‘Sorry　to　disappoint；　Maloric；’　said　Calard；　dragging　his　gaze　from　the　food　on　display。
The　Earl　of　Sangasse　did　not　rise　from　his　high…backed　seat　–　a　subtle　insult　that　Calard　did　not　fail　to
notice　–　and　he　looked　Calard　up　and　down。
‘My；　my；　you　are　quite　a　sight；’　said　Maloric。　‘And　what　a　stink！　When　was　the　last　time　you
washed？’
‘One　does　not　have　much　time　for　such　luxuries　aloric。’
‘Of　course。　I　t