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size of a tree. She looked up and saw the satisfaction blazing in Gareth's
    eyes.
    Clare wondered why she felt as if she were still falling.
    Gareth raised one hand to summon a knight. A hard-faced warrior rode forward.
    "Aye, Sir Gareth?"
    "Ulrich." Gareth pitched his voice so that his man could hear it above the thundering cheers of the crowd.
    "Escort my lady's noble protector in a manner which befits his excellent service."
    "Aye." Ulrich eased his mount closer to the wall and held out his arms to seize William by the waist. He
    lifted the lad off the wall and settled him onto his saddle bow.
    Clare saw William's eyes grow huge as he was carried off through the crowd astride the massive
    war-horse. She realized with wry chagrin that Gareth had just gained a loyal follower for life.
    Clare listened to the exultant shouts of her people as the Hellhound of Wyckmere walked his gray
    stallion through the crowded street. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Margaret standing in
    the gatehouse entryway.
    The prioress waved cheerfully.
    Clare clutched the Window of Hell and considered carefully the excellently set snare in which she had
    been caught.
    2
    "Presenting the Window of Hell to the lady was a pretty gesture." Ulrich grinned as he watched Gareth
    soap himself in the large bathing tub. "Quite unlike you, if I may say so."
    "You think me incapable of pretty gestures?" Gareth shoved his wet hair out of his eyes and looked at
    his trusted friend.
    Ulrich lounged on a cushioned window seat. The sunlight shone on his totally bald head. A seasoned
    knight some six years older than Gareth, Ulrich was a heavily muscled man of surprisingly handsome
    countenance.
    Lord Thurston had hired Ulrich to be Gareth's mentor when Gareth had turned sixteen. The older man
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    was both a thoughtful tactician and a skilled warrior. He had been present the day Gareth had won his
    spurs and the knighthood that went with them. The event had followed a violent encounter with a band
    of renegade knights who had been terrifying villagers on some of Thurston's lands.
    Ulrich and Gareth had been together since that day. Their association was founded on friendship and
    anchored by trust and mutual respect. Gareth had learned a great deal from Ulrich in the beginning and
    he still listened to the other man's advice. But somewhere along the way their relationship had gradually
    shifted from mentor and student to that of professionals who dealt with each other as equals.
    It was Gareth who now gave the commands, however.
    It was Gareth who had gathered a tightly knit, well-disciplined band of men around him and shaped
    them into a formidable weapon whose services went for a very high price.
    It was Gareth who had selected potential employers and decided how and when to sell the services of
    his men.
    He had assumed the role of leader not because of his connection to Thurston of Landry, but simply
    because it seemed natural for all concerned. For Gareth, the will to command was inherent, as
    unquestioned an impulse as breathing.
    Ulrich had no great interest in the position of leader. His was an independent nature. He swore fealty to
    those of his own choosing and the lord to whom he gave his loyalty could be assured of unswerving
    service. Four years earlier Ulrich had sworn fealty to the Hellhound of Wyckmere.
    Ulrich knew Gareth better than anyone, including Thurston. He was well aware that Gareth had never
    before offered the Window of Hell to man or woman, lord or lady, master or mistress.
    "I will admit that you have a way with grand and impressive gestures." Ulrich stroked his jaw thoughtfully.
    "With you, such gestures always conceal clever traps. But this was an unusual move, even for you."
    "It was an unusual situation."
    "Still, it was merely another snare, was it not? You left the lady little alternative but to accept the
    Window of Hell."
    Gareth shrugged.
    "It