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gaping wound, the pale, yellow cartilage,
     and the blood that lay all about Gilbert’s body, smearing the hay in foul clots and puddles.
    Run! He had to run! The noise of the hounds behind him was swelling all the time, and he had to escape the row. He didn’t
     think they were after him, but the noise –
Christ Jesus
! He had to get away from the town as fast as he could. The castle was a short distance in front now, and he could see its
     battlements. There were only a few yards to the door, and then he was inside, panting with fear and exertion, feeling his
     heartpounding, the sweat cooling on his forehead. Or was it the blood? God’s body, but there had been so much
blood
!
    Three men waited just inside. They said nothing. There was nothing to be said, only a nod of mutual recognition, all aware
     of the great danger they ran. All knew that if their act tonight was discovered, they would certainly perish. Painfully. He
     gave them the small phial, and that was his part done.
    Soon he was bustled out, still no time to rest. A man took him swiftly, all the way from the castle’s outer gate, back into
     the town, quietly now, the pair of them scurrying like mice through the deserted streets, and out to the little postern. There
     was no guard here – it was the castle’s men who were supposed to look after this doorway, so close to the castle itself –
     and then he was outside, in the open, the sky a purple velvet cloth overhead, sprinkled with clouds and shimmering sheets
     of silken mist. It was a strange sensation, standing there in the open, suddenly still, with no animals, no sense of urgency,
     no need to run …
    Except there was. He would be running for the rest of his life now, unless the plan succeeded.
    Of course, if that happened he might even win a great reward. Become a knight, even. Either that, or he’d be found dead one
     day in a ditch for his perfidious behaviour. The King would have his balls for what he’d done.
    But for now, he must escape. He moved swiftly along the roadway, keeping the castle on his left, until he reached the cross
     on the Wincheap way, and there he turned south and west, heading towards the leper house of St Jacob. A short distance before
     that, he found the track off to the left into the trees, and met with the men who had the horse.
    He took the reins, and with a sense of relief to be safe again, the man in the King’s herald tabard sighed and clapped spursto the beast. There were many miles to cover before he could rest properly again.
    Since getting here from France he felt as though he had been in the saddle all the time. He only prayed he might find some
     peace soon.

Chapter Two
    Tuesday following Easter
6
    Château du Bois, Paris
    Baldwin sipped his wine and tried to look appreciative.
    The musicians were not all bad. Some were really quite talented. That fellow Janin was rather good with his vielle, and Ricard
     was a competent gittern player, although he did tend to make a little too much of a show with his playing for Baldwin’s taste.
     He seemed to wave his instrument about overmuch when the women were watching him. Still, at least he was making a pleasing
     sound. Not soothing, but definitely pleasing.
    But it was soothing which his soul needed just now. He had been here in France for a month or so, which meant that it was
     … what? Two months, no, three since he had left his wife and children back home at Furnshill. However long it was, it
     felt a great deal longer. That was certain. His son was only a matter of three months old when the King’s summons had arrived
     to call him on this journey, travelling to France with the Queen, protecting her from dangers on the road, so that she might
     arrive safely at the French court.
    Queen Isabella was a strong-willed woman. She had comethrough many disappointments with her husband and his choice of friends. In recent years she had seen all her properties confiscated,
     her income taken, her servants