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that boy to make him forget the way he has. In truth, I begin to wonder if perhaps he might have been present when his father was killed.”
    “Good God!” said Nigel.
    “Aye,” Bernard said. “Such a sight might well cause a seven-year-old to blank out his memory.”
    Silence fell as the two men contemplated this harrowing thought.
    Finally Nigel said, “What do you want me to do?”
    “Convince Hugh to pay a visit to your home. He said earlier in scorn that perhaps you could arrange an interview between him and his uncle. Well…perhaps you can.”
    Nigel gave a short bark of laughter. “You want me to introduce Hugh to Guy as his lost nephew? That would be somewhat dangerous, I fear.”
    “No, I don’t want you to actually introduce them. I want you to bring Hugh to Chippenham disguised as one of your own knights.” Bernard gave Nigel a piercing look. “You can surely find some reason to pay a visit to Guy?”
    “Well, aye…”
    “Chippenham was the castle where the old earl was murdered. Isn’t that what you said?”
    “Aye. Chippenham has ever been the main castle of the earls of Wiltshire. It is where Hugh grew up.”
    “Then take Hugh there. It is possible that once he has returned to the scenes of his childhood, he will begin to remember things.”
    “Things that will lead to the truth about his father’s murder?”
    “Perhaps,” said Bernard somberly.
    After a minute, Nigel let out his breath in a long sigh. “We could try it, I suppose.”
    Bernard’s eyes went to the door through which Hugh had exited a few moments before. He nodded slowly.
    “The question is: How I am going to get him to agree to visit me?” Nigel said. “You must admit that he has proved markedly uncooperative thus far.”
    “He might agree to a visit if we give him time,” Bernard said. “If he has actually been thinking of going off to the French tournaments, he is desperate to get away from here.”
    “He is not going to be easy to hide,” Nigel warned. “Once Guy gets a look at his face, he will recognize him as Roger’s son. We may very well be placing Hugh in grave danger.”
    The scent of herbs drifted to their nostrils as the serving girls began to sprinkle fresh rushes around the hall.
    “He will be in worse danger if he remains here,” Bernard said bleakly. “If we set him to unraveling a thirteen-year-old mystery, it will at least have the benefit of occupying his mind.”

4
    The forest stretched away darkly on either side of the track, but the road itself was wide enough for the late August sun to reach through the trees and reflect off the mail of Hugh and his party of four as they crossed into Wiltshire to begin the final stage of their journey. Purple-red foxglove blossomed along the edges of the road, and the sound of birds flying busily among the deep green branches of the trees accompanied the riders as they trotted steadily along the forest track. The smell of summer was still in the air.
    Here and there the mounted company passed small assarts, cut out of the woods by poor farmers willing to work hard for a little land of their own. Otherwise there was just the forest, rich with game waiting to be hunted by some great lord.
    What am I doing here?
    The thought echoed through Hugh’s mind as he rode his white stallion in the midst of the four knights Nigel Haslin had sent to escort him to Nigel’s home for the visit Hugh had finally agreed to pay.
    It had taken him five months to give in. When Nigel had first proposed that Hugh should come to Somerford, he had refused, as he had refused all the subsequent invitations delivered regularly by one of Nigel’s knights.
    The last invitation had come on the anniversary of the Battle of the Standard, exactly one year after Ralf’s death. It had caught Hugh at a particularly vulnerable time.
    He had thought that after a year, he would be coping better with his life.
    He wasn’t. In fact, as the days went by, he felt himself growing more and more