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long before men began to emerge from the keep. Someone in that group was shouting; it was too far for Hugh to recognize the face or voice, but he thought he heard his name. He ducked down so that his head and shoulders would not be outlined against the sky above the wall and made his way, crouching, to one of the ladders that connected the walkway with the ground. Just as he turned to descend, he caught sight of a man running from the base of the motte drawbridge toward the stables. It could be that a horse was to be readied to bring the castellan’s submission to Summerville and prevent further attacks on the village, but Hugh had the feeling that the castellan wanted to know whether his horse was still in the stables. Another man running toward the guards at the bailey drawbridge convinced Hugh that the castellan had become aware of his absence and was seeking him.
    Hugh came down from the walkway at once and slipped behind the supports close to the wall. Here he paused to turn his cloak inside out to expose the dark fur that lined it rather than the emerald-green cloth. The footing was terrible, since no one ordinarily walked in that area, and refuse was often dropped from the wall or tossed under the walkway by anyone passing. Hugh stumbled and grimaced with disgust when his foot came down on something that squished and gave off a sickening odor of putrefaction, but eventually he reached his goal, a place about midway on the westerly side of the palisade where one of the storage sheds was built right against the walkway braces.
    Here Hugh moved away from the palisade, setting his back against the rear wall of the shed just alongside an upright brace. Now, unless the search for him grew so frantic that every inch of ground was to be examined with torches, Hugh felt he would be safe. He leaned on the wall, crossed himself, and offered up a prayer for help to the Mother of God and to Saint Jude, the champion of lost causes. Although Hugh had not found in himself any vocation for the religious life, Archbishop Thurstan’s influence had had a powerful effect on him. His faith was strong, and it had been encouraged by Walter Espec, who was himself deeply religious. Comforted, Hugh relaxed. He continued to listen intently both for sounds of anyone approaching and for any hint of whether the search for him was intensifying or diminishing, but Hugh’s mind was now busy with what he had seen from the wall.
    By the time it was dark enough for Hugh to move from his shelter, it was also very quiet there. Hugh had begun to think his original assumption was wrong and the castellan had never been searching for him. If so, the rushing to the stables and the gate guards was preliminary to negotiating the submission of Wark. The thought made Hugh angry, but the situation was advantageous to him because both the guards of Wark and those of Summerville’s army would be relaxed rather than alert for an attack.
    Hugh moved quietly to one end of the shed and peered out. Nothing. Slipping back, he worked his way to the other end and still saw no one moving in the area. Not once since dusk had he heard footsteps on the walkway above him. There was a mounting ladder not far away, and Hugh came out of concealment and climbed it. He paused with his head just above the walkway to look right and left. As far as he could see in the dark, the walkway was empty. If there were guards, presumably they watched where the army was camped. Hugh climbed the rest of the way up, bending to keep below the line of the palisade. Still crouched, he pulled the coil of rope from his shoulder and fastened one end around the sharpened top of one log of the wall—and froze as a shout of warning rang out and a torch, plunged into a firepot, burst into flame.
    The paralysis of surprise was very brief. Tightening his grip on the rope, Hugh flung himself over the wall and let himself slide down a good deal faster than he had intended. He bit his lips against the pain as