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and provided a squire. He needed men and had been in a hurry to appease Prince Edward. And Thormond had once ridden with Hyatt’s estranged brother.
    However, Hyatt would not give the fallen knight another opportunity to betray him. At just after daybreak, when the prisoners and injured were all returned to De la Noye and littered the inner bailey, Hyatt ordered Thormond delivered to the yard.
    That the stench of death and the pitiful state of the conquered ones sickened him were weaknesses Hyatt did not share with any comrade; soldiers did not wince away from death and injury and despair. These were his thoughts as he entered the yard: that no one would know by his action or expression that his stomach churned against his duty. When he was noticed emerging from the hall, the prisoners were poked and ordered to stand taller, and Thormond was dragged forward.
    He saw Aurélie. She stood far back, behind many captured soldiers. She watched the flurry of activity that took place the moment Hyatt inclined his head. He saw her face, pale and drawn, her head covered by the black hood of her cloak. For a moment he wished she were not there; he would spare her this. But it was a fleeting wish.
Let her see,
he thought.
She will know my strength and I will know hers. Until then, we know nothing of each other.
    Thormond wore the colors of red and black, but he was stripped of his sword and shield. As he was brought forward, he looked down at the ground. Only his chausses, shoes, and gambeson gave him away to be one of their number, yet he was being held as an offender. As he was pulled to the center of the yard to face Sir Hyatt, he slowly looked up, his expression full of hatred and defiance. Hyatt saw the stinging truth again, there in Thormond’s eyes. He knew Thormond would kill him, if it met his needs.
    “Thormond,” Hyatt shouted in a voice that caused his prisoners to stand taller if the guard’s prodding had not. “I would break the arm of any man who steals from me, but one of my own—” he shouted, looking all around him. He judged the reactions of those present. Then he spat in the dust at the feet of his soldier. “With one of my own, one whom I’ve trusted and tried to teach truth and honor, my judgment would be harsher.”
    He looked toward one of his knights and the man unsheathed his sword and tossed it to Hyatt. He caught the heavy weapon with ease, as if it weighed no more than a scythe or hoe. In a flash of action so swift many would wonder if they had even seen it, the prisoner’s arm was held out and whisked off just below the elbow. A shriek of pain left the victim before he crumpled to the earth in agony.
    Hyatt stabbed the bloodied weapon into the ground beside the severed limb and looked around again, his voice ringing loudly over the cries of the injured man. “To test my justice, test only the edge of my sword. They are equally sharp.” Then in a voice only slightly subdued, he added, “Mend him and turn him upon the road. He betrays my shield. He betrays my word.”
    The cries stopped as Thormond was quickly hefted over the shoulder of one guard and carried out of the way. Hyatt judged the observers again, looking for one in particular. She stood. He could not see her closely enough to know if she gaped, but her arms were still at her sides. Perrine hid her face and seemed to retch, but Aurélie faced the loathsome deed. He kept himself from showing a prideful smile and turned, striding back to the hall as confidently as he had come.
    Hyatt had acted quickly; there should be little doubt he would not dally over tiresome testimony. He was grateful to find some of his men in the hall, finished with their early morning meal. He desperately needed any diversion they would provide. He wanted to scour away the memory of Thormond’s betrayal and severed limb. Only a few of his most trusted men knew that he had doubted Thormond; they had helped him watch the errant knight. But the punishment was hard