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slightly surprised: He had done worse than neglect to feed his master’s horse before. He began to feel uneasy as Owein continued.

    “To be a Templar you must be willing to make many sacrifices and abide by many laws. You are training to be a soldier! A warrior of Christ! One day, sergeant, you will almost certainly be called to arms and if you cannot follow orders now, I cannot see how you hope to maintain order as a knight on the field of battle. Every man in the Temple must obey, to the letter, the commands given to him by his superiors, however trivial they might seem, else our entire Order will fall into chaos. Can you imagine the Visitor in Paris, or Master de Pairaud here in London failing to follow any task appointed to them by Grand Master Bérard? Failing, for instance, to send a requested number of men and horses to help fortify one of our strongholds in Palestine because they overslept on the morning the ship was due to leave?” Owein’s gray eyes bored into Will’s. “Well, can you?” When Will didn’t answer the knight shook his head irritably. “The tournament is only a month away. I am considering excluding you from entering.”

    Will stared at Owein for a long moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. Owein wouldn’t bar him from the contest: His master wanted him to win as much as he did. It was an idle threat and Owein knew it.

    Owein studied the tall, wiry boy, whose tunic was dust-stained and whose posture was erect, defiant. Will’s dark hair had been cropped raggedly across his forehead and several strands hung in his green eyes, giving him a hooded look. There was an adult keenness in the hard angles of his cheeks and his long, hawk-like nose, and Owein was struck by how much like his father the boy was starting to look. It was no use, he knew; anger and threats had never worked. Probably, he thought with some chagrin, because he could never stay furious with the boy for long, or recourse to more brutal punishments employed by other knights.

    He glanced at the wooden screen that partitioned the solar, then back at Will. After a moment, Owein rose and looked out of the window to give himself a chance to think.

    Will’s uneasiness returned as the quiet dragged on. Rarely had he seen Owein so pensive, so ominously silent. Perhaps he was wrong: Perhaps his master would bar him from the tournament. Or perhaps this was worse, perhaps…The word expulsion flashed in Will’s mind. After what seemed an eternity, Owein turned to face him.

    “I know what happened in Scotland, William.” Owein watched Will’s eyes widen, then narrow to fierce slits as the boy averted his gaze. “If you want to make amends, this isn’t the way. What would your father think of your behavior? When he returns from the Holy Land I want to be able to commend you. I don’t want to have to tell him I’m disappointed.”

    Will felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. All his air had gone, leaving him dizzy, sick. “How…? How did you know?”

    “Your father told me before he left.”

    “He told you?” said Will weakly. He hung his head, then shook it and looked up. “Can I receive my punishment and be dismissed, sir?”

    To Owein, it was as if a mask had come down over Will’s face. That fragility was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. He watched a vein in Will’s temple pulse as the boy clenched his teeth. The knight recognized that stony resolve. He had seen it in James Campbell’s face when he had advised the knight not to pursue a request for transfer to the Temple’s preceptory in the city of Acre. James hadn’t been called to Crusade and as well as Will in London, he had a young wife and daughters in Scotland, but he had refused to listen to Owein’s counsel. Owein wondered whether he was getting through to the boy at all. It was time, he decided, to speak plainly. “No, Sergeant Campbell, you may not be dismissed. I’m not finished.”

    “I do not wish to speak of this, sir,”