“Something is amiss; I can feel it. I fear not for her safety, but rather my own while she is loose about the country doing who knows what. She may stir up a faction against me.”

“If she were to stir up a faction you would soon know about it. You could quell it in an instant and have her thrown into chains for her troubles.”

“Throw the Queen into chains? Ho! There’s a thought. I should have done it long ago if I had dared.”

“Still, I would rest the easier if I knew where she was.” He paused; a small dark cloud of worry crossed his brow. “Oh, why haven’t I heard from my Harriers? They should have returned with their captives-or their captives’ bones long ago. This bothers me more than the Queen’s absence…”

“What could go amiss with them? Are they not proven to the task-and with cunning to spare? You will soon have your answer, my prince, never fear.”

The Prince pulled on his chin and threw his counselor a fretful glance. “I suppose you are right. But I would go to my summer quarters in a better mind if these loose threads were clipped and discarded.”

“Say no more. If you like I shall remain behind until I myself can bring you the news you seek.” Ontescue smiled his most ingratiating and winsome smile.

“You are a good counselor, Ontescue,” replied Jaspin, glad to have the matter taken care of. “I will tell you this: I can use men of your abilities when I come into my power-that will not be long in coming now. Sir Bran and Sir Grenett are good men, but they are, after all, soldiers and understand not the finesse of court and government. You, though you may not admit it, have special gifts in this area, I perceive.”

“You are too kind, my Lord.” Ontescue bowed and looked appropriately innocent to deserve such favor; inwardly he leapt for joy that his goal was so near within his grasp.

In all the Prince took fifty knights and nobles with him to his summer palace. Counting their servants and men-at-arms, the numbers swelled to five times as many.

The pilgrimage to Erlott Fields, the Prince’s private castle wherein he resided some four or five months of the year, was a drawn-out affair commanding more regard than it warranted. But Jaspin would have it no other way. Being within an hour’s riding distance of the sea the climate remained somewhat cooler there during the hotter months, and though many times smaller than Askelon it was nonetheless well fortified and ample for any prince’s needs. Castle Erlott housed his fluctuating retinue with ease.

The coming of the Prince to Hinsenby, the nearest village, was always a gala event. People lined the roads as the royal caravan passed. They marveled at the knights and horses, the weapons and costly furniture they saw carefully packed away on the wagons. It was a show well attended with merry-making and festivity. Jaspin himself usually participated, supplying a good deal of meat and wine to the occasion.

This year Jaspin was weeks early in his desire to remove to the safety of his own battlements. Two things occasioned his somewhat premature notion: his own growing uneasiness about his alliance with Nimrood, who was showing himself to be a perverse and ambitious ally, and his wish to remain apart from Askelon until the Council of Regents should meet and declare him king. Then he planned a glorious triumphal entrance to the great city as its monarch. He did not wish to lessen the impact of his brightest moment by remaining in Askelon until the deed was accomplished. Jaspin reveled in the pomp and splendor of such events. He knew how to please the common people and wooed them with lavish spectacle and cheap entertainment to divert their wandering attention from their troubles, and thus silence any defaming tongue.

A chill yet sunny day greeted the departure of the Prince and his army of nobles and knights, servants and soldiers, and various minstrels, game masters and ladies who had been invited to help while away the cool spring evenings. A day of good travel would bring them south to Hinsenby, there to encamp and enjoy a day of sport before removing to Erlott, another half-day’s march to the west.

The day proved fair for the journey, and they achieved Hinsenby well before dusk. The servants set about erecting the bright, multicolored tents used on these occasions as they took the broad fields just west of the town. Under the sparkling eyes and laughter of the townspeople, the tent city blossomed. A great bonfire sparked to life in the center of the field, and smaller fires for cooking flamed around it and in front of the various tents. Eating and drinking would continue through the night, and on the morrow a mock tournament would be held among the knights and the more adept of their sidemen. It was done for play and practice for the knights, and for the grand sight it presented to the people who would crowd the perimeter to see the spectacle of horses clashing under gallant knights, dangerously armed. Much care was taken to prevent anyone from being harmed accidentally, for there was no renown in being wounded in a mock tourney, and a knight indisposed was without honor or a source of income. Like knights anywhere, most relied on their skill at arms to secure the favor and patronage of a wealthy nobleman-that is, those who were not themselves of noble birth.

In his large tent, raised above the others on a wooden platform, Jaspin slept uneasily while the raucous sounds of the roistering crowd continued far into the night. The Prince, begging leave of his merry followers, had retired early saying he wanted to present himself fresh for the tournament on the following morning. In truth he had grown restive and disturbed, having brooded the whole day upon Queen Alinea’s disappearance and the lack of effect from the Harriers he had sent out to bring back the fugitives.

He took to his bed in an apprehensive mood and fell at once into a troubled, dream-filled sleep in which the ghost of his brother rose up accusingly before him demanding to know what had happened to his wife Alinea.

Twice during the night he awoke to the feeling of a lurking presence somewhere close by-as if someone were prowling around outside. Each time he called for his chamberlain who denied, after checking the circumference of the tent, that anything was amiss.

By morning he had all but forgotten his unpleasant night; the prospect of games greatly cheered him. All that remained of his midnight misgivings was an occasional twinge of foreboding, vague and undefined, as if bad news were winging its way toward him unexpectedly.

But his disquiet vanished as preparations began for the mock tournament. The boundaries of the fighting field were drawn and marked with lances bearing red and gold pennons. Tents at either end of the field were converted for the use of the knights who would engage themselves in the combat. The weapons were readied-all sharp edges wrapped in leather and the points of the lances blunted with wooden protectors. Helmets, shields, and breastplates were shined and devices and insignias painted fresh where use had rubbed them thin.

The people of Hinsenby and beyond, some who had walked all night, assembled on the somewhat soggy Hinsen Field early in the morning. Most had brought with them baskets of food and drink to last the whole day; others bartered with the local merchants who took advantage of the sudden influx of visitors to vend special delicacies-sausages and rolls and spicy meat pies of a small, portable nature.

The midday sun, bright and warm before its season, found all in readiness. Jaspin sat under a canopy on a raised platform overlooking the field of contest; a score or more of his favorite nobles graced seats on either side of him. Ladies, their faces demurely covered from the sun, sat below just in front of the platform. Publicly these fair damsels decried the rough sport of the tournament, but not one flinched from the clash of arms, or from the issue of blood that often accompanied the games.