The hall fell silent as every eye turned. The baron gave a flowery speech, honoring the men and their bravery. He boasted proudly of their victory. And then, as the baron launched into a tribute to Erec: Baron of Greenwood, Captain of the Royal Guard, Captain of the King's Army, et cetera, Erec found himself wishing that the baron was not such a profusive speaker.

At length the baron decided he had said enough and welcomed one and all to enjoy the feast and merriment. Raucous cheers went all round, and the festivities began. The baron settled in to his chair as servants began delivering plates mounded high with foodstuffs.

From his place on the dais, Erec noted by the happy faces around him that the night was already a resplendent success. The meal was delicious as the company was fine. The sheltered warmth of the great hall was much welcomed after so long in the cold north.

A bard entertained them with song and poem. Musicians played and some of the men partnered with the servants to dance, as ladies were scarce so far to the north. And as he reached to break off another bit of bread, his eyes fell on the empty chair to his own right.

"Why is this place yet empty?" Erec asked absently, nodding to his right as he dipped the bread into his stew and popped it into his mouth.

"It was for your man, Sir Drew, but he declined the honor, stating instead that he wished to honor his men for their valor in battle and dine among them this eve." The Baron paused as his gaze searched out Drew from among the men. "Very well done, that." He added as he returned his attention to his dinner.

"Sir Drew is a good knight." Erec agreed with a nod as his eyes scanned over his men.

Sir Gil entered with an excited grin on his face. Curious, Erec watched as he went over to the table and singled out Drew. The two hovered in animated conversation, and Drew was obviously pleased with what he heard.

As if sensing eyes upon him, Drew stood up and met Erec's gaze. Erec expected Drew to come up to the dais to share the news. Erec was surprised when Drew lifted a hand in greeting, offered a smile and a wink and then went out the way Sir Gil had come in.

Curious.

As his eyes followed Drew, it was hard to miss the glower Sir Robert gave as Drew passed by. Sir Robert was obviously feeling slighted, that he was not also honored with a place on the dais.

None of the other lieutenants were thus honored and Erec could see no ill will harbored on their countenance. In fact, all any of the others seemed to care about was keeping their glasses full.

After their disagreement on the battle field, Erec's dislike of Sir Robert cemented with a healthy dose of caution. He sensed trouble from that quarter, and it would be no small thing. He mentioned as much to Drew. Erec frowned as he recalled Drew's sharply pointed reply.

"I disagree, Milord. I do not think him a threat. While it is a prerequisite, being an Ass does not an Assassin make. One would also require great skill to become an Assassin. Sir Robert lacks skill, great or otherwise, choosing instead to rely on his brute strength to win the day. While he has been lucky so far, his luck cannot hold."

Drew sighed and when Erec was about to say something more, Drew added: "But...I have learned to trust your instincts, my friend. And so, I shall have him watched."

Once more Erec looked upon Sir Robert and felt the full brunt of the man's displeasure. Sir Robert's prior malice was only magnified by this new perceived slight to his inflated ego...Erec's frown deepened.

"My lord Brecken." Erec began, leaning closer to speak in confidence, "There is reason for my lieutenants and I to fear a knife in the ribs from an unknown person among these hired hounds. By showing my men and I favor, you may also have earned their ire."

"I do not fear the hounds. My own servants are quite loyal. I should not have to worry about any hound wandering where it ought not before my guards are called to put the dog out."

"I have angered one of the lieutenants. He has threated to give an unfavorable report to the king. You should take care that he does not feel compelled to do the same to you." Erec paused but when the Baron seemed unconvinced, he went on.

"I cannot pretend to know what goes on in the mind of our new king. I now only that he has long despised me and I fear he will seek a means to be rid of me. Use caution that you do not also earn his attention for I sense that it will not go well with you if you do."

"Very well. Your counsel is sound. I shall use caution." With that the baron rose.

Once more there was a short horn blast and the shouts: "Hear Ye, Hear Ye" before the room fell silent. Erec refrained from rolling his eyes as the Baron began another speech.

"We are here to welcome our men, victorious in battle. They went to give their sword to the service of the crown and have served with honor and distinction.

The baron waited while the men cheered and when it was quiet once more, he raised his goblet high.

"And we are honored to have the Royal Guard among us in our humble hall. Few ever have such good fortune to see the king and yet these men live in our King's very presence. They offer their swords...AYE...even their lifeblood to protect our king. Raise your glasses one and all, to the salute of them and their bravery. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!"

Before the baron finished the first Huzzah, the people were on their feet with their glasses held high as they zestfully joined their voices in the three cheers.

Erec was not surprised by the baron's gift for diplomacy, but as he carefully watched Sir Robert, he wondered if it was enough to satisfy the man's rather inflated sense of self-importance.

Erec could say in a word what it took for a man to be willing to lay down his life for another, be it soldier, subject, or king. Humility. A man must be firmly convinced that the value of his own life is no more than that of any other man, woman or child.

A knight must be humble, giving way to his own needs and desires in the service to others. Only by this would his heart be committed to carry through should the need ever arise for him to lay down his own life for that of another.

Of course, there were many things that made a good knight...a better knight. Unfortunately, humility was only one of the traits that Sir Robert lacked. Drew was correct in his assessment of Sir Robert's methods, and Erec knew Sir Robert was not a man he would select, if given the choice. Alas, there was no choice in this, save the King's.

As the evening wore on, and the wine flowed freely, the sprits in the room continued to rise in direct proportion.

"Lord Erec."

"Yes, my lord Brecken."

"You must rest here for seven days together. Your horses have long been without proper care, as have your men."

"I think that—"

"I insist upon it. I shall send a letter to the king... and a gift! I shall tell him I saw it as my duty to His Majesty to house his men and restore them to their full measure of health before sending them on their way. How could his majesty fault me for assuming the cost of his guard for a few days?"

There was no use arguing with the baron, not that Erec's heart was much in the argument. To be warm and well fed...to be free from the constant weigh of his armor, and to sleep upon a feather tick nestled in soft warm furs—how could he argue against that? With a smile he gave his nod of consent.

"Very well, my lord. On behalf of my men, I accept your hospitality. We shall stay here seven days together to rest before we continue on our way. I shall be honored to carry your letter and your gift with me. I shall be glad to present them to the king on your behalf.

"Huzzah!" the baron was on his feet raising his glass. "Wine! Wine! Fill every cup to the brim! Tonight, we celebrate your victory. And for seven days hence, you shall rest well under the protection of Brecken Moors Hall. Be warm! Be well! Be merry!"

"Huzzah!" the men answered in a resounding cheer.

Erec looked about. The men were pleased. Drew was returned to his place with the men, although Erec could not say when he did so, or at what point John, Thomas and young Sir Dermot retired...

Like a tongue is drawn to a sore tooth, Erec turned his eyes on Sir Robert and was surprised that even Sir Robert seemed pleased.

Hm. So, there was something that could satisfy the man after all.

Erec enjoyed the company upon the dais for some time before the fatigue and warmth got the better of him. He turned his head away to stifle a yawn and the baron laughed.

"You are half my age and you tire while the night is yet young!"

"Nay my lord." Erec answered with a sincere but weary smile. "The night is long behind us. Look for yourself my lord, for the morning is upon us.

The baron looked about, his cheeks red from wine and fatigue. He noted the light pouring through the high windows, all soft and gray as the first rays of day set upon them.

"So it is. So it is." The baron chuckled and winked as a yawn claimed his next breath.

"The baroness had the good sense to retire from company long ago. I think it time we follow her example. Come. Let me lead you to your chamber. I have given you the one nearest myself. The hearth is large with a good draw and it will warm the room quickly. The bed is settled with feather tick and the warmest furs."

"I have already enjoyed the comforts, my lord Brecken. But in this moment, the softness of that grand bed does indeed sound heavenly, my lord." Erec answered honestly.

The baron chuckled. "If heaven it be, then I shall send an angel to tend you."

"That is hardly necessary my lord." Erec shook his head and then wished he had not as he swayed a bit. "A squire will do..."

"Nonsense! I am the lord of this manor and I wish it! So, it shall be done as I say it shall be done. I shall send an angel to you. Sleep well, my friend." The baron chuckled as he called for a servant and retreated to his own chambers a few doors down.

---

"Milady."

"How can I—Oh. What is it then?" Gwyndolyn was surprised as she turned away from tending the bloodied knuckles of her patient.

"I am sent to bid you tend to his lordship's honored guest. He has overindulged and is suffering muchly. I am to take you to him at once."

"But—" she started to protest as Matilde entered the door behind the other servant.

"His lordship has beckoned. Go on with ye then." Matilde scolded. When Gwyndolyn hesitated, the woman added: "I can tend to these fools. Most of them can suffer through to the morn. If there is one what needs special care, then I shall send to you at once."

"Very well." She handed her rag to Matilde and reached to untie her apron. "Let me change into a clean gown. I shall be quick."

---

With a weary sigh Erec pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room and the bed were bigger than he recalled. He tripped and cursed as he stumbled before catching himself. He had not noticed the rugs before. As he lifted his gaze, the room swayed.

Erec shook his head to clear it and regretted it in the same instant. The floor tilted and a steady pounding began to throb inside his skull. Slowly he moved his gaze around and found himself leaning to the side to compensate for the tilting of the floor.

His eyes reached the fireplace, and moved on quickly. The fire in the hearth was warm and bright—too bright—as it cast a yellow glow over the room. Closing his eyes, he nearly fell as the entire world swayed and dipped like the deck of a ship being tossed in a storm. His eyes flew open. He was still in his room, and it was still tilted.

God's Teeth! He wished that whomsoever was doing the pounding would stop!

Lifting his hand to his head, he dropped his chin and scrunched up his face.

He smelled awful. He needed to wash, but first he needed to remove this...

With an exhausted sigh, his perfect posture fell away as he stumbled to the bed. Fatigue settled into his bones as he fell to the bed. Sinking into the softness of fur and feather, another sigh turned quickly into a yawn. After some moments to gather his gumption, he sat up and grunted as he Leaned over and began working at the laces of his boot.

"Allow me, my lord." The soft voice startled him as feminine hands reached for his laces. Waves of brown hair glowed with a halo of red in the fire light. Her voice teased his wine-numbed mind as the first boot was tugged free.

his conscience whispered.

Another yawn stole away words he might have formed. The other boot tugged free and he could not resist the urge to wiggle his toes as he stretched out his limbs.

"Shall I help you with your—" the soft gasp tickled his conscience, but another mighty yawn consumed very bit of his energy. When it was finished, he noticed the absolute silence about the same time as he saw an angel in white standing before him.

Was he dead then? Or perhaps this was but a dream?

"It you." A quiet voice broke into his musing.

"Aye. I am myself...but who are you?" he blinked trying to focus through the wine-fog.