"It happened that twenty of Brecken's men were at the Abby seeking information about the rumored heathens when Lord Modoc first attacked. The sisters were completely defenseless of course, but the walls of the Abby were stone and well built. Brecken's men held off the attack until just before dark when Lord Modoc suddenly retreated.

"Brecken's captain sent three men back to Brecken Moors Hall for help while the rest of the men prepared for another assault." When she paused to take another drink, Erec risked another question.

"How is it that a farmer enters into this story?" Erec thought she told an amusing enough story, but in his opinion, it was long past the time to introduce the hero of the tale.

"My father was a younger son. He had not yet taken a wife, so he still lived on my grandfather's farm, a large, prosperous farm to the north of the Abby. There was an unfortunate traveler that had taken shelter at the Abby. As soon as Lord Modoc's men retreated, the traveler fled to Brecken Moors Hall. Father was in the fields and spoke with the traveler as he passed by on the road.

"The next morning Grandfather sent Father with a wagon of produce and a plea. Father was sent to beg the sisters to flee to Brecken Moors Hall until Lord Modoc was defeated and the Abby was safe again. If the sisters left the Abby, Father was to go with escort them and help in any way that he could."

"The produce was a disguise to cover his real purpose." Erec commented with a nod, "Clever."

"Yes. But the Reverend Mother refused to leave. Instead, she gave Father the Abby's cart which was much larger than Grandfather's cart, and two of the Abby's finest horses. The soldiers loaded the wagon with produce, a pig and several chickens while Father followed Reverend Mother to her office. Once there, the Reverend Mother shoved a bag of gold at him.

"Father refused, but the Reverend Mother insisted. When he relented, she escorted Father back to the wagon where he discovered three young noble ladies dressed in plain clothes and waiting on the cart. Father objected heartily, but the Reverend Mother reminded Father of his Christian duty to see the lasses safely to Brecken Moors Hall, even as he would have done for the sisters.

"Father was good and caught. The Reverend Mother pressed a bejeweled dagger into his hand and sent Father out by the West road. The North road was shorter, but it was also the road the soldiers used. In the event that he ran into trouble, she bid him to us the animals, produce, and gold if needed, to buy safe passage.

"Father thanked her for her help and begged the sisters to pray for a safe journey. As he drove the cart from the west gate and they travelled farther from the safety of the Abby's walls, he saw the evidence of the recent attack all around them. Father said it was the most frightened he has ever been in his entire life.

"Mother her companions sent up their own fervent prayers for a safe journey. But it was not to be. Before they even reached the north turn off, Father came upon some heathens that left Lord Modoc in search of easier spoils. None of the men wore armor and carried only daggers on their belts... but there were four of them.

"They promised my father his life if he surrendered the women and goods. My father was good at fighting, but it was not just his own life at risk, so he tried it the Reverend Mother's way first. He offered the goods and gold for safe passage, knowing there was nothing to prevent them from running him through and taking everything anyway.

"Father did not know that Mother also had instructions from the Reverend Mother. So, when the heathens drew their knives and moved toward the cart, Father was just as surprised as the heathens when Mother barked out a challenge: 'Choose your champion! If my husband wins, you may have the goods and the gold, but my husband and I are free to go with my cousins.'

She paused her tale to take another drink and chuckled between sips as she confided that her father had to bite his tongue to not give away the true nature of their acquaintance.

"A husband offered stronger protection than a mere escort. Besides, if he lost, he would be dead and it would all be theirs anyway." Erec summarized. "I am guessing they were spoiling for a fight and accepted the challenge."

"You speak as though you have experience." She tipped her head at him, and arched her brow expectantly. He accepted the reprieve and answered with a shrug.

"Not precisely that scenario, but trial by combat is not unfamiliar. I have been a prisoner more than once during my life. My great size makes such a challenge appealing."

"To best a man of your great size would be a victory worth the risk."

"To best a man of my size would indeed be such a victory. And an easier victory if I were injured or fatigued from battle." Erec half smiled. "You have not finished your story, but I think I can guess the ending. Your father won the match, they gained their freedom and along the way they made a love-match."

"Not exactly."

"Your mother did not—" Gwyndolyn gave him a sharp look and he bit off the rest of his words.

"They chose a man much larger than my father, but they never counted on the strength of man fighting for his life and his freedom. Father won the fight but instead of a killing blow, he offered mercy. It was a mistake he barely lived to regret. As he turned away, the man leapt to his feet to stab Father in the back.

"Mother screamed a warning and Father turned just in time. Instead of sinking into his kidneys, the knife glanced off his ribs. This time, Father knew it was truly a fight to the death. Father won, but he was challenged by that man's brother. Father was bleeding, and tired, but he was determined as he faced this second, much younger opponent.

"As that man fell under Father's blade, Father turned to the remaining two. He could scarcely keep hold of his knife, slippery as it was from the blood but he stood his ground and glared at the remaining two in challenge. They demanded only the gold and left their companions behind as they rode swiftly back toward the Abby.

"Father bled badly from his wounds and staggered as he tried to keep his feet. Mother leapt from the cart and ran to his side to help. She tended the worst of his wounds using strips from her skirts as bandages and then helped him climb onto the cart. Holding Father to the seat with one hand, and grabbing the reins with her other, Mother took them safely to Brecken Moors Hall.

"When they arrived, mother begged shelter so she could tend her husband's wounds. My parents found themselves in an awkward position. The presence of the cousins safeguarded my mother's virtue but—"

"But they declared themselves married in public."

"Aye." She raised her brow.

"I know of only one Abby that suffered such an attack. The ruins of the Abby are to the North and East of here. The peoples north of the pass have a custom. To state you are wed is to acknowledge that marital vows were exchanged betwixt bride and groom and announces to all that the woman is bound. Proclaiming in public that they are wed is to be wed before God and man."

"Once more, good knight, you speak as though you have experience."

It was not a question and Erec felt a tug somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. She was too smart by half. He sighed, relieved for the distraction as he pointed behind her as Drew pushed the door open.

"I have enjoyed your company, milady, but alas, duty calls."

"Milord, the men are assembled for the sentencing." Drew announced from outside the doorway where he stood slightly stooped so he could see Erec.

"We shall complete the sentencing and depart immediately after. I shall be there momentarily. Let me offer my gratitude to the farmer."

"I have already done so, milord." Drew answered with a pointed look at Gwyndolyn.

Erec grinned as she blushed and scrambled to her feet. With a shrug, he answered Drew: "Then I shall join you now."

"I am in your debt, milady. May God grant you mercy all of your days." His parting words for her were a bit formal, but spoken with sincerity.

"My thanks, milord. God speed you safe and true." With a stiff courtesy, she retreated quickly through the little door and closed it quietly behind her.

---

Gwyndolyn leaned back against the door and sighed. Her heart was thumping, her stomach was churning, and she felt like crying.

Which was absurd. Was it not? It did not make any sense that she should mourn his departure, or ache with worry over the peril he was riding towards. She knew him for all of three days!

It was true, he had saved her life.

Well, he and his man...Sir Drew. But she was doing okay saving herself...was she not? She was grateful, but that was not the same as...what did she think this was?

Gwyndolyn squeezed her eyes closed and sighed as she sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. Mother described feeling much like this the day that Father fought for their freedom.

But that was different. Mother declared him husband so she would be allowed to nurse his wounds and save his life in return...they were not in love then...not until later surely.

Tears burned and she let them fall freely as she remembered her mother and the days when they were a family, before mother became so weakly. There was no doubt in Gwyndolyn's mind that Mother and Father were a love match. Father still mourned her, though she was gone these many years.

But of course, it was laughable to hope. He as a Lord with a castle and lands and servants. He was also Captain of the Army, Captain of the Royal Guard, and the People's Champion.

And what was she but the daughter of a farmer, and a poor one at that.

She hiccupped and sniffled.

But her mother was of a respectable family with noble ties.

Gwyndolyn sat up a little straighter.

Mother taught her everything she learned from her years at the Abby. If Gwyndolyn put on the right clothes, she could pass for a noble lady, even as her mother had.

So maybe it was not so laughable. After all, Lord Erec was not married, nor was he attached. He was brave. And kind. And wise. And he was also very nice to look upon...especially when he smiled.

Gwyndolyn smiled as she got to her feet and wiped at her face, embarrassed by her little breakdown. Her smile grew as she realized that no one was in the house to witness it. She could go about her chores keep her new feelings tucked safely in her heart. If nothing else, they would give her something pleasant to dream of at night.

...or during the day.

---

Because the Knights Council concluded last eve, the men were anxious for the sentencing and when Erec arrived with Drew, they were already assembled. To Erec's surprise, it finished without further threats. He hoped their solemn observance meant they would uphold the decision of the council, and that it was not some promise of delayed reckoning

There were a little over 50 men on this campaign and all but a handful were unknowns. He had to believe they would prove themselves worthy. The knot in his stomach tightened as the prisoners were bound at the wrists and bound again to their horses.

"Thomas." Erec barked, although the man was ten feet away.

"Milord."

"Take John and set up a guard. I want two on each side at all times. I want you to follow behind and make certain everyone stays watchful. I need these men to reach Brecken Moors Hall alive."

"It shall be done."

Thomas nodded curtly and together with John, led the prisoners to take up a place in the column between the armory wagon and the rear guard.

It was not the most desirable of circumstances, to be dragging them along on campaign, but it could not be helped.

"What has you so troubled, Milord? Surely, you are not pining away so soon. We have only just left the farm."

"Drew?"

"Milord."

"Can you do something for me?"

"You have only to ask, milord." Drew chuckled with mock sincerity.

"Skewer yourself."

"It shall be done." Drew laughed, using Thomas's earlier words in jest. Erec tossed him a glower that usually had men tucking tail and running from him. Drew was still laughing as he turned his horse and rode back toward Thomas.

Lord, it was going to be a long ride.

He worried about the possibility—probability—that there was an assassin hiding in their midst. Now he had to worry about these prisoners. And he worried because his current company of men was not adequate enough to accomplish what the King wanted. No doubt the king wished him to fail...but the King did not count on the border tension.

He was counting on the fact that Far North and Brecken were each a burr under the other's saddle for as long as Erec had known Lord Brecken and would no doubt be happy to additional men if it meant dealing a blow to Far North.

"Milord."

"Drew." Erec grumbled, expecting another jab about the lass.

"The prisoners are complaining they are being ill-treated. They wish to have their bindings loosed because they are causing discomfort."

"I suppose they would also like a private tent when we make camp?"

"And a hot bath. And a lady or two to make the hours pass more...easily."

Erec tipped his head back and laughed.

"So, you have not forgotten your humor?"

"Nay." He chuckled, shaking his head, grateful for his friend's interruption. Riding distracted was a good way to get dead. "I was just pondering all of the...problems."

"Do not worry about the prisoners. There are eight guards plus John and Thomas. They are not going anywhere and no one is getting near them."

"You trust these eight men?"

"I trust Thomas. He trusts Gil and Dermot. Gil and Dermot vouched for the others. So, I say they can be trusted."

"Vouched?"

"They have known the others almost as long as you and I have known—" at a doubtful look from Erec, Drew laughed. "Alright. They are not near as old and wise as we two, but my point being they have known each other since childhood."

"Fair enough." Erec smiled.

Drew laughed and shook his head at Erec's jab. "Fair enough." Drew echoed as he resumed his place riding at Erec's side.