"The day is won! They flee!"

"Let us ride after them and cut them all down. Let the kingdom know to fear our King's might."

"Nay!" Erec bellowed. "Stay your hand. Look around you man! Is not the carnage littering the fields enough for you?"

"I will do as you say—my lord—but I do not agree with your policy of mercy. The king shall hear of it!"

"Yes, Sir Robert, he shall! For I shall tell him."

"He ordered us to route the mercenaries—to show the enemy the folly of pressing force against our king—to show the strength of our army and our king. You let them flee. They will regroup, send for reinforcements and they will be harder to fight when next we meet because they will know our stratagems and our weakness."

"The men who flee are peasants. The knights and trained soldiers lay strewn about you. In this kingdom, they are a superstitious lot. They will return to their villages and shall say that we were like ants up on the field for our numbers. They shall say that that we advanced like a wall of water drowning all in our path."

"Do you really believe this nonsense?"

As though Sir Robert had not spoken, Erec went on. "They shall speak of our might, our strength—and our mercy. Never again shall one lift up arms against us—only upon the pain of death. They shall fear our wrath if they scorn our mercy and rise against us."

"So, you say; but we shall see who the king would rather believe. And then we shall see who the fool is."

"You are mistaken if you believe that I think you a fool. You have shown strength and bravery today. Both excellent qualities in a knight. I only remind you, Sir Robert, that mercy is also a quality of a good knight.

In response, Sir Robert growled and turned away to join his men as they searched the corpses in the field. Erec watched him go, and sadly reflected on this last part of war. After a battle, the victors would collect weapons, armor, and anything of value upon the corpses as spoils.

If any were found to be breathing still, they were mercifully put to the sword, rather than allowed to die a slow, lingering and painful death. It was difficult, but he knew it the right thing to do. Prisoners were only taken when the enemy surrendered, or upon the very rare occasion when a soldier was found alive with non-mortal wounds, yet unable to flee with the retreating army.

"Milord."

"Lieutenant." Erec growled, still lost in his unpleasant thoughts.

"Three of their number were found that shall survive their injuries. Shall I bind them?"

"Nay. We are too far from the garrison. I have no wish to bring three more enemies among us."

"Shall they be executed, milord?"

"Never!" Erec barked, surprised at the suggestion. Clarifying, he added: "Seize their weapons and their armor. Treat their injuries and secure oaths to never rise against our king again. Let them go so they may carry the word that our king possesses great strength but also mercy."

"Very wise of you." Drew smirked.

"Get gone with you." Erec growled before turning his mount for their camp. He had a report to write.

So engrossed was he in his reports that sunlight faded without notice. A young squire came in quietly, lit the candles, and left unnoticed. It was sometime after dark, when Drew arrived with a tray of food that Erec finally looked up. Setting aside his quill and flexing his hand, he stood to greet his friend and lieutenant.

"Drew."

"Erec." Drew answered with a smirk as he set the tray upon the table, over the reports.

"Fool! Do you know how long it took me to—"

Drew laughed as he lifted the tray, for he had never released the weight of the tray upon the reports.

"You are too easily baited when you are fatigued. Now eat something and get some sleep. We start for home in the morning. I am anxious to be away from this damnable cold. I have been cold so long that I have quite forgotten what it is like to feel my toes.

"I admit, Drew, with you along on these long campaigns, I scarcely miss the jolly king's fool."

"Oh, tee hee." Drew mock laughed in a high squeaky voice and did a silly little dance step before he pirouetted and bowed as gracefully as could be done while yet in armor."

Erec laughed and reached to pour himself a glass of wine.

"I would wager you could teach the fool a thing or two."

"I would wager you are right, but if you ever repeat that, I shall not only deny it but I shall expose this secret sin of yours."

"Drinking wine is no sin. Especially when the water is frozen solid."

"Nay...but wagering is...my lord." Drew bowed again and laughed as he dodged the frozen waterskin Erec hurled. It missed Drew's head but hit him squarely in the shoulder with a loud thwack.

"Careful milord." Drew grumbled with mock anger, as humor still flashed in his eyes, "Armor is expensive and I just had this pounded free of dents"

"Leave me you fool, or I shall put a greater dent in that thick skull of yours."

"Irritable louse." Drew chuckled as he turned to go.

"Stinking Jackanape." Erec tossed at his friend's back as the man left the tent laughing.

He was only half in jest earlier when he said he appreciated Drew's good humor. They both bore the marks from their youthful follies. The difference now was that Erec lost most of his joy—instead becoming simply content to deal with his many responsibilities. While Drew managed his responsibilities commendably—and somehow also managed to maintain his good nature.

His three lieutenants were full of jests and pranks on long campaigns. Sometimes, they got the other men involved. Erec did not mind so long as no one got hurt. It kept the men's moral up and helped maintain a sense of comradery. Both were put to the test the longer the men were away. The long marches, poor food, and exposure to the weather seemed to magnify normal human ailments.

After a battle, especially, a resounding victory like they had today, the ranks were not so sorely troubled. There were several days yet of good spirits before the anxiety to be home settled into the men. Yet, without families and homes to return to, Erec rather doubted that the kings hired men would behave the same.

He needed to remember to speak to Drew about it. Now that they survived the battle, there was a long road home...a road full of opportunities to be rid of four particular knights.

After finishing his cold stew and wine, Erec called for a squire to remove his plate armor. He would finish most of this journey home in chainmail and tunic. It still offered some protection but was much easier to move about in. Generally, soldiers tended to travel more quickly on route home.

A winter wind swirled around the tent, blowing the snow and making the space outside a cloud of white. With a shiver, he wrapped himself in a second fur and tried to remember, as Drew so eloquently phrased it, what his toes felt like. His eyes closed on a sigh and his thoughts turned to Molly's kitchen where he always found a warm hearth, a hot meal, and the love of family.

---

"They are coming! Mum! Mum! They are coming!" Robin screeched as he ran toward her.

"Robin! Calm yourself child!" Gwyndolyn chuckled. Standing from the washtub, she rubbed her back as she waited for him to reach her. "Now, in a civilized voice, please, who is coming?"

"The soldiers!" He gasped, bending and resting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. "They are back! I was on the watchtower taking the guard his lunch and I saw them. They look like little ants. The guard said it was because they were yet a way off, but they will be here ere darkness falls."

"I am certain the entire castle is aware, since you were shouting so loudly," she scolded gently, but why do you not go and find Matilde and tell her what you have seen. She will no doubt have need of you to carry word to the other servants to get the household ready for this eve as there will certainly be a celebration."

She chuckled as he turned and sprinted off before she finished the last word. She had no idea what Robin would be like as a grown man, except that she knew for a certainty that he would never do anything in half-measure.

Well, these things would not wash themselves, whether the soldiers came or not. Blowing a stray strand of hair from her eyes, she bent to finish her chore.

---

On the march north, Erec sought hospitality from Brecken so that his men might get a hot meal and thaw their bones before the battle. The Baron Brecken, long loyal to the crown, saw it as his duty to send half of his garrison to aide in the fight. Not only did this double his army, but the Baron's men were accustomed to the colder climes, which helped negate an enemy advantage.

The Far North was still wrapped in ice and snow, burdened as it was by long winters. But the further south they rode, the spring thaw had begun. The days were yet cold, but more hours of sunlight softened winter's hold upon the land.

It was with eagerness and relief that they now neared Brecken Moors Hall after so long away. Half of the men called it home. The rest called it a brief respite from hour upon hour in the saddle...with much longed-for warmth, fresh food, and merriment.

As they neared the castle the gates were flung wide and villagers spilled from within, carrying maypoles, ribbons, song and jubilant cheers as they greeted the returning army. More than one face was marked with tears as women and children came to walk alongside one soldier or another.

Brecken's men were not only loyal to the crown, but they were well disciplined. None of the men broke ranks as they rode through the outer gate, through the village and outer courtyard.

"Drew, I want the lieutenants to me. After the animals are seen to, the rest of the men have their own time. I expect every last man to attend evening meal in the great hall, clean and ready to join in the revelry."

"Aye, milord." Drew turned away to see it done.

A few moments later as a weary Zeus was led away by two armored knights, a servant appeared and led Erec and his lieutenants to the great hall. Squires and pages appeared to assist with the removal of armor. A table was set with bread and wine as light repast before the eve's merriment. Servants appeared to offer baths and beds.

"A bath and a bed would be most welcome indeed, my man." Erec slapped the surprised servant on the shoulder as his lieutenants were led away to their rooms. "But do tell me, did his Lordship wish to see me before the festivities?"

"Nay, milord." The servant dipped his chin. "His Lordship said to tell you, if you should inquire, that he remembers the hardships of being long in the saddle and far from home. He bids you to enjoy your bath and rest now. He hopes that you will be his guest of honor and sit at his right hand this evening."

"Then I shall be led off to my bath and bed now, quite like a happy little pup and please tell his Lordship that I would be an honored guest, indeed, to sit on his right at this night's festivities."

Erec never cared for the nobility's habit of using a servant to bath, much preferring the solitude of a long soak, since bathing was a luxury on campaign. But he was too saddle weary and battle sore to care. He needed an assist out of his chainmail anyway, so he surrendered to the ministrations of the somber servants.

Clean and dry, the servants began to dress him: Linen undergarments of a very fine weave, Stockings which were a tad too small, doublet, chainmail, surcoat and belt. Here he stopped them with a raised hand. One servant waved his hand and dismissed the other two from the room.

"Nay. I shall leave off the dagger and purse for now. I need to get a little sleep before the festivities or I shall be too fatigued to enjoy them properly. I do not wish to reflect poorly on his Lordship's hospitality in any fashion. Please call me at the turning of the hourglass."

"As you wish, my lord. Do you wish me to have the tub removed first?"

"Nay. Leave it, if you will. I am fatigued to be sure, but by the very nature of my knighthood, I sleep lightly and should not sleep at all whilst they are shuttling back and forth."

"As you say, my lord." The servant bowed. "I shall see that you are awakened at the turning of the hour glass."

---

When Gwyndolyn finished, she stood and rubbed the ache in her back. She knew the precise moment when the soldiers arrived for the cheers were deafening, even here in her rooms behind the kitchen. She smiled as she recalled how it came to be.

In one busy day, she treated a burn, a cut finger and a blackened eye. The servants talked. Matilde noticed but said only that it was good and well for Gwyndolyn to play at healer, so long as she did not neglect her regular chores.

One day a young man slipped while chopping wood and badly cut his leg. Gwyndolyn was fetched at once and was treating the young man when Matilde arrived. All while Gwyndolyn worked, Matilde stood watching, silent and foreboding like a great black storm cloud.

When Gwyndolyn did all that she could, she bid the young man be helped to bed. She bid him rest with his leg raised up in order to lessen the swelling and the pain. When everyone had gone, and Gwyndolyn was cleaning up the mess, Matilde cleared her throat. Gesturing for Gwyndolyn to leave it, Matilde said simply: "Come."

Gwyndolyn followed as the woman headed back toward the kitchen, feeling rather like a sheep being led to the slaughter. But Matilde turned and headed for the stone steps behind the kitchen. Gwyndolyn was stricken speechless as she stepped through the heavy wooden door at the top. She saw at once it was a healer's room.

One wall was filled with shelves and cubbies that housed jars of herbs, potions, and salves. A work bench held a stack of bowls and a mortar and pestle. Below the work table were more shelves with various baskets.

A small cot was tucked along the back wall and a large sturdy table filled the center of the room. Herbs in various stages of drying hung along the other wall above the hearth and on either side of two small rooms, each with a bed and a few pegs upon the wall.

Matilde turned in the door as she left, and surprised Gwyndolyn further by saying that the smaller of the two herb gardens, and a servant girl came with the job of healer.