The rising sun awoke Sir Theobald from a contented sleep. He smiled, remembering the young woman, Alice, a maid of Sir Hector's who had come to "settle him in." He stretched, opening his eyes ... and immediately recoiled in horror.
Sprawled on the bed beside him was Alice. She was covered in blood, and a dagger - his dagger - was protruding from her chest.
Heart hammering, he scrambled off the bed. He grabbed at his shirt, noting as he did the lack of blood on him. His stomach lurched; he had to fight not to vomit.
He put on his shirt, tears blurring his vision. What had happened last night? He and Alice had enjoyed each other, but as usual, he fell asleep after. Who had killed her?
Just then the door opened. In came Marion, Sir Hector’s other maid. "Morning, Sir Theobald," she began, and then she saw the scene. The rest of what she was going to say became a scream. She dropped the pitcher she was holding and fled the room, screaming, "Murder!"
Sir Theobald’s instincts took over from there. He grabbed his swordbelt and cloak, went to the window, opened it … and jumped.
He took the two-story fall to the ground by rolling himself into a ball. When he stopped moving and his head was clear, he got up and ran for the stables.
He opened the stable door wide and ran for the stall of his horse. Not bothering with tack or saddle, he led the animal out of the stable.
As he exited to stable, the morning sun hit him in the eyes, blinding him. When he could see again, he saw a man. Tall, broad, with cloudy eyes and long brown hair and a beard. Sir Hector stood there, his sword in his hands. "Hold it right there, Sir Theobald," he said in a low voice.
"I – I didn’t do anything, Sir Hector," he pleaded.
"My maid is dead in your room. Explain that."
"I don’t know what happened!"
"Ignorance … not likely. Come along quickly."
Sir Theobald was older and slower than Sir Hector. More than one knight had remarked about Sir Hector’s ferocity, speed and recklessness in battle. But desperation gave Sir Theobald the advantage. He rushed Sir Hector, getting inside the arc of Hector’s sword before he could react. In short order, he had both hands on the hilt of Hector’s sword, and as they fell, hit him with the pommel of the weapon.
Sir Hector’s vision darkened. When he hit the ground, his consciousness went out like a candle flame.
Gasping, Sir Theobald climbed to his feet. He dropped the sword, grabbed his clothes, mounted his horse and took off. His mind was on one thing … get away!
Sir Jehan, Emperor of All Adria, was in a foul mood. The latest reports from Tierra del Fuego, with its weather problems, weren't encouraging. On top of that, there were the delicate negotiations with the Empire of Chivalry and Steel, and the unrest in Europe was troubling him. Then, there was the matter of the very strange letter his had received. Nothing was quiet. He drained the last of his beaker of wine, got up, and took the letter with him as he left the chamber, heading for his private conference room.
As he walked, he was assaulted by a barrage of courtiers, all needing or wanting him. Where the heck was his herald when he needed him?
As if by magic, Lord Nigel the Byzantine, the Imperial Herald, arrived. "Good gentles! Good gentles!" he shouted. "The Emperor will see you all in good time. Just allow me to fit you in!"
Sir Jehan pulled him slightly away from the courtiers. "Inform the Empress I need to speak to her in the conference room in a half hour. Also get Sir Dilvish, Dame Aleta, Sir Thomad and see if his grace, Sir Mathghamhain, is available as well."
"The entire Senate?" Nigel asked, puzzled.
"No. Not yet, anyway."
Sir Jehan abruptly left Lord Nigel there. He had things to do before he met with them.
As Sir Theobald rode, his head cleared and he thought about where he could go. He made his decision and turned west.
Nearby, hidden in a copse of trees, a woman watched Sir Theobald. She noted where he went, then smiled and began walking north.