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piss hard-on.”
    He looked once more at the map and chose a house some six streets away from where he stood. Two of the other houses on the map were closer but had more occupants in them. Three lines sat next to the cross he had chosen, meaning three innocent people would die at his hand. His sadness was unbearable and his guilt insurmountable. His mouth was as dry as straw. Life as he knew it was over. He would never be the man he dreamed of becoming or the good husband he aspired to be someday. From now on, the stain of murder would follow him no matter where he went or how he lived his life.
    “Enough. Get this done,” he mumbled under his breath. He’d face his conscience later, after he had delivered an infant to the duke.
    The street, as well as most of the houses in it, was deserted. By now, the neighbours would be at the town square, in the San Agustin Church, listening to the Mass. Only the infirm, very elderly, and those who had new infants would be at home. It was customary for newborns to remain in quarantine until holy water had been poured over them and they were officially welcomed into the Catholic Church.
    He was not sure how much time he had, but when Mass was over, the procession would disperse and the people would hurry home to eat and drink their fill. He would have to make sure he was on his way back to the castle before the rowdy crowd filled the entire area.
    He studied the house he’d chosen from the other side of the narrow street. Smoke was billowing from the roof chimney, and an inviting soft glow of light was visible through the numerous cracks on the window shutters. There was a smell of food sifting into the street through the splintered wooden door. The people inside would be just about to eat, were eating, or had just finished their supper.
    He pulled the hood from his head and unconsciously ran his fingers through his hair. After crossing the street, he stood for a second in front of the door, listening for a baby’s cry or sign of life on the other side of it. Eventually, he heard a man’s voice and a woman’s soft tinkling laughter.
    His knuckles rapped the wood five times. His heart thumped against his chest, and his breathing quickened as he covered his sword and dagger with his cloak and waited.
    “Yes?” The young man smiled upon opening the door. “Can I help you?”
    David didn’t answer. Instead, he looked past the man and saw a baby’s crib out of the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat and thought for a brief second that his chest was going to explode, and then he forced himself to look at the young man.
    “I am here on the duke’s business. Let me pass.” Seeing the man’s expression change from curiosity to fear, he repeated sternly, “Let me pass.”
    “What does the duke want from me?” the man asked.
    He wants to steal your baby and have you killed, David thought, but instead he said, “I’ll answer your questions inside. Make way for me.”
    “I’ve done nothing wrong … and I’ve never seen you before. How do I know you’re not a thief?”
    Hearing a noise, David turned from the man and looked onto the street. There was no one there, thank God. None the less, he couldn’t waste any more time standing on this doorstep, where a neighbour returning early from church might see him. His hand slipped underneath his cloak. He felt the pommel of his sword and drew it from its leather belt with one swift movement, making a loud swishing sound.
    “Move back inside,” David said, with the point of his blade touching the man’s belly.
    The man’s eyes widened with fear and confusion. He took a few steps backwards, encouraged by the tip of the sword nicking his skin. Stumbling, he halted abruptly as he hit the edge of the bed with the back of his leg. “My wife’s just had a baby … Please don’t hurt her.”
    “Be quiet,” David told him. Lifting his leg behind him and without looking, he kicked the door shut with the sole of his boot. His