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all his heart that he had obeyed his mother's orders and stayed out of the forest.
    'I'm going to return to the road. Why don't you go back the way you came? I bet you'll find your friends waiting somewhere not far from here.'
    Merthin turned to go.
    'What's your name?' the knight called after him.
    'Merthin, son of Sir Gerald.'
    'Really?' Thomas said, as if he knew Father. 'Well, not a word, even to him.'
    Merthin nodded and left.
    When he had gone fifty yards he vomited. After that he felt slightly better.
    As Thomas had predicted, the others were waiting for him, right at the edge of the wood, near the timber yard. They crowded around him, touching him as if to make sure he was all right, looking relieved yet ashamed, as if they were guilty about having left him. They were all shaken, even Ralph. 'That man,' he said. 'The one I shot. Was he badly hurt?'
    'He's dead,' Merthin said. He showed Ralph the arrow, still stained with blood.
    'Did you pull it out of his eye?'
    Merthin would have liked to say he had, but he decided to tell the truth. 'The knight pulled it out.'
    'What happened to the other man-at-arms?'
    'The knight cut his throat. Then we hid the bodies in the bush.'
    'And he just let you go?'
    'Yes.' Merthin said nothing about the buried letter.
    'We have to keep this secret,' Caris urged. 'There will be terrible trouble if anyone finds out.'
    Ralph said: 'I'll never tell.'
    'We should swear an oath,' Caris said.
    They stood in a little ring. Caris stuck out her arm so that her hand was in the center of the circle. Merthin placed his hand over hers. Her skin was soft and warm. Ralph added his hand, then Gwenda did the same, and they swore by the blood of Jesus.
    Then they walked back into the town.
    Archery practice was over, and it was time for the midday meal. As they crossed the bridge, Merthin said to Ralph: 'When I grow up, I want to be like that knight - always courteous, never frightened, deadly in a fight.'
    'Me, too,' said Ralph. 'Deadly.'
    In the old city, Merthin felt an irrational sense of surprise that normal life was going on all around: the sound of babies crying, the smell of roasting meat, the sight of men drinking ale outside taverns.
    Caris stopped outside a big house on the main street, just opposite the entrance to the priory precincts. She put an arm around Gwenda's shoulders and said: 'My dog at home has had puppies. Do you want to see them?'
    Gwenda still looked frightened and close to tears, but she nodded emphatically. 'Yes, please.'
    That was clever as well as kind, Merthin thought. The puppies would be a comfort to the little girl - and a distraction, too. When she returned to her family, she would talk about the puppies and be less likely to speak of going into the forest.
    They said good-bye, and the girls went into the house. Merthin found himself wondering when he would see Caris again.
    Then his other troubles came back to him. What was his father going to do about his debts? Merthin and Ralph turned into the cathedral close, Ralph still carrying the bow and the dead hare. The place was quiet.
    The guesthouse was empty but for a few sick people. A nun said to them: 'Your father is in the church, with the earl of Shiring.'
    They went into the great cathedral. Their parents were in the vestibule. Mother was sitting at the foot of a pillar, on the outjutting corner where the round column met the square base. In the cold light that came through the tall windows, her face was still and serene, almost as if she were carved of the same gray stone as the pillar against which she leaned her head. Father stood beside her, his broad shoulders slumped in an attitude of resignation. Earl Roland faced them. He was older than Father, but with his black hair and vigorous manner he seemed more youthful. Prior Anthony stood beside the earl.
    The two boys hung back at the door, but Mother beckoned them. 'Come here,' she said. 'Earl Roland has helped us come to an arrangement with Prior Anthony that