Compared to how it could have gone, the Prince's company was blooded with few losses to their own number. Some of them were veterans of the earlier campaigns, but many—the Prince included—had not tasted battle before. Perhaps it was a good thing that they got a taste of it before they confronted the Witch Queen herself. Even if they were able to catch her unguarded amid the preparations for the winter solstice festivities, it was sure to be an even bloodier affair.

Prince Wilfried found himself considering this as he thought on the lives in his care he had already lost. He also thought on Prince Rickardt and wondered if their gambit had spared him the worst of what may have been waiting for him at Lewenfort. The young Prince of Milon had risked much to join in their confederation. If it were to cost him the ultimate price without even knowing the fruits of their venture...

It may have been that Gudrun did not rise to the bait so as not to further aggrieve Prince Wilfried, and in turn the Prince was quick to rise to her defense against the sorcerer's barbs.

Kolman merely scowled, as he was not fool enough to provoke Sir Eckhardt. He and Gudrun might spar with words, but a man like Sir Eckhardt was known to answer insults by more forcible means. As choleric as Kolman could be, he was not so quick to take leave of his senses.

As they were entering town, Prince Wilfried hoped they would rein in their squabbling for a while. The town was a small one built around an old hilltop watchtower, possibly a remnant of line of fortifications from the days when the River Rhun served as the border between Gotland and Bergeny.

The Prince deferred to the old knight's judgment. Kolman appeared to sulk because so little heed was paid to his counsel, but this was nothing new. He was by no means a fool but also not half so wise as he thought. Perhaps if the war had not robbed them of Master Tancred, Kolman would have inherited more of his teacher's wisdom. No, not the war. It was no impersonal force that caused Master Tancred's death. It was the traitor Maus, which made Lys' defense of him and her mad quest so incomprehensible. Just thinking of it made his bile roil.

Because his thoughts were elsewhere, he was somewhat taken off-guard when an old man approached his horse and hailed him, saying, "Greetings, sir. Tell me, I pray, from whence come ye, sir, and whither ye go?"

Composing himself, Prince Wilfried replied, "I am a simple merchant man from the west seeking markets in the east."

The old man placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head, saying, "If ye be a stranger to these lands, then in me lord's name, I welcome ye to Helmbach. I pray ye, sir, come with me and accept the hospitality of me master's hall."

Prince Wilfried laughed uncomfortably and said, "I can assure you that I am no angel."

Prince Wilfried glanced at Sir Eckhardt to seek his counsel as he kept the conversation going, asking the old man, "And who is your master?"

He glanced to Gudrun, who said, "It would seem you heart is already set on this course. The path ahead has rarely been so clear."

She conspicuously did not say whether this path was a wise choice or not, but if she saw any great danger, surely she would have warned them. Prince Wilfried knew that they could not continue to discuss among themselves any longer without drawing unwanted suspicion. As it was, he hoped the old man's hearing was not still keen enough to follow clearly what they had been saying to each other.

The old man smiled and bobbed his head.

The Prince watched the old man walk. Though he did not make use of a cane, it appeared that he would have done well to have one the way he doddered about unsteadily with his hunched back, looking as if he were one bad step from toppling over, never to rise again.

Sir Manfried's castle was a couple miles removed from the town, which took quite a bit longer than it normally would have with the company having to keep pace with the old man hobbling his way down the road. However, to the old man's credit, he showed no signs of tiring by the time they reached the castle.

The castle itself was not much larger than the watchtower the town was built around, more or less what you would expect for the castle of a knight of modest means, though perhaps not one who was the son of a baron. While the gate of the outer wall was left unmanned, two men-at-arms were posted at the gate of the inner wall defending the keep. Before they went up the bridge to the inner gate, a footman came to meet with the old man and once he was dismissed, the old man turned to Prince Wilfried and said, "The groom will come to take yer beasts to the stables and we shall give lodgings to yer serving men..." He paused to take note of Gudrun's attendants before adding, "And women. And ye, sir, with five of yer choicest, I pray ye follow yer humble servant to me master's hall."

Prince Wilfried dismounted and motioned to Sir Eckhardt, Bishop Friedman, Father Ludbert, Kolman and Gudrun to join him. He entrusted his horse to his squire when the groom arrived to take the horses and mules to the stables. Captain Hengist saluted with his bow as he went off with the others, a gesture that he understood the Prince's reasons for excluding him from his choice of companions and did not take it for a slight. Keeps like this typically had their great hall above the ground floor and the narrow stairs would not be navigable for a Horseman such as himself. It also spared him the sort of embarrassment that happened at the Palace of the Lake back in Milon. Of course, here in Gotland, a Horseman ought to find more welcome than he would in the other kingdoms.

They followed the old man up the bridge to the keep, and much to Prince Wilfried's surprise, waiting for them outside the keep was Sir Manfried himself, accompanied by his wife and two children and small entourage of attendants. It was as if they were expecting the Prince, but even if they were somehow informed beforehand, it would have been custom to receive him in the great hall. Men of rank would not go to the trouble of meeting anyone at the gates save for the most esteemed guests, which would not apply to the Prince under his current guise.

Though he was taken off his guard, the Prince did his best to keep playing the part of Wilbrandt the merchant, doffing his cap and bowing saying, "Greetings to you, sir. You do me more honor than this humble merchant man merits."

The Prince did not go so far as to swear an oath, but he continued to insist, "I tell you, sir, I am the merchant Wilbrandt of Rittermark."

The old man spoke up at his master's behest, saying, "Yer Highness is the very image of yer royal father in his youth. I knew ye the moment I saw ye."

It seemed that any effort to keep up the act was in vain, yet Prince Wilfried refused to let himself lower his guard. Even so, how long could he continue to insist one thing while Sir Manfried insisted another? Did he mean to vex the Prince until he yielded?

It was Sir Eckhardt who intervened, telling Sir Manfried, "If His Highness the Prince were to dare to venture into lands held by the Witch Queen and her servants, he could not afford to betray his secrecy even for his own kith and kin, so why would a man who claims to be so leal insist on the Prince exposing himself to the eyes and ears of the enemy that might be lurking anywhere?" He paused. "Not that this has anything to do with this goodman merchant, my employer."

Though he had not been given leave to lift his head, Adalbert looked up to Sir Eckhardt and said, "Eckhardt, son of Gerhardt, are ye not? Me brother served with yer father, sir."

Sir Eckhardt glared at Adalbert.

Adalbert shrank like a dog about to be whipped. It seemed that any hope of understanding was lost when one of the men in Sir Manfried's entourage whispered, "Sir, if we were to take this indoors..."

Looking about as if the Witch Queen's spies might be lurking in every shadow, Prince Wilfried hastily, "Yes, yes, by all means."

Sir Manfried then rose along with his entourage and ushered the Prince and his companions into the keep. Upon entering, he promptly went to the stairs, saying, "I pray you make use of my solar as if it were your own chambers, rude though it must appear compared to your due. My man shall tend to you as you refresh yourselves ere we sup. Of course, the lady shall have my wife's chamber and Diethild her maid."

The solar was on the floor above the great hall, as you would expect. It was modestly furnished, no doubt as best as Sir Manfried could afford. The three chamber servants were standing there waiting for them, the men bowing and the maid curtseying when they entered the room.

Sir Manfried bowed low and exited the room by walking backwards without raising his head. For a moment, the Prince feared he might misstep and take a tumble down the stairs. He would be a much poorer host dead of a broken neck.

Gudrun looked to the Prince, who nodded to grant her leave, not that she should have needed it. As she followed the maid, one of the manservants brought out a basin of water and the other a towel. The one with towel dipped it in the water and then wrung it out.

With his head half-bowed, the manservant held up the towel to Prince Wilfried and said, "Highness, with your permission..."

The Prince nodded to give his assent and the manservant washed his face and neck, then his hands. He then went back to his fellow servant with the basin and repeated this process for the Prince's companions according to their rank, first Bishop Friedman, then Sir Eckhardt, Kolman and Father Ludbert. Of course, none of them had admitted to their true identities, but it could be assumed that the diviner Sir Manfried held in such high esteem had given the manservant instructions on how they were to be treated.

When the manservant had finished washing the five of them, he placed the towel in the basin and the other servant withdrew to put it away.

Half-bowed once more, the manservant asked Prince Wilfried, "Highness, might I bring some refreshment? It will be some time yet before supper is ready."

Ordinarily, the Prince would not decline offers of hospitality, but in this case, he did not want to accept any food or drink that was not shared by their hosts. It was still too early to place much trust in Sir Manfried and his household, and if Prince Wilfried was inclined to be this cautious, he knew Sir Eckhardt and Bishop Friedman would be as wary as cats in kennel.

That at least was a concession the Prince could make. He unhooked his scabbard from his belt so that he could actually sit in the chair.

This prompted the servant to take a step forward and hold out his hands, saying, "If I may, Highness, your sword. Allow me to take it to the cabinet for safekeeping."

This was, of course, common courtesy and normally they would have been asked to yield their weapons as soon as they entered the keep, if not before then. If Sir Manfried was indeed a friend, he could be made a foe if his honor was wounded, so it would be better to play along for the time being, until Sir Manfried's true nature could be revealed. The Prince handed his sword over to the servant, then motioned for the others to do the same.

With his arms full carrying two swords, two maces and a staff, the servant bowed and said, "By your leave, Highness," and withdrew.

For a moment, it was just the five of them in the solar, so Prince Wilfried asked Sir Eckhardt, "What do you make of our host?"

Sir Eckhardt went silent as the two manservants returned. Prince Wilfried caught him shooting a harsh glare Kolman's way before turning his attention back to the servants.

The Prince nodded, unable to think of a reason to refuse.

Bishop Friedman motioned to Father Ludbert and said, "We are men under vow, so we must decline. I cannot speak for the others, though."

Sir Eckhardt frowned yet said, "We would be grateful."

The servant gestured to the chamber next to the one where Gudrun was taken, which must have been Sir Manfried's own bedchamber, saying, "This way, Highness, sirs."

The elder of the two servants busied himself with dressing Prince Wilfried while the other tended to Sir Eckhardt and Kolman. They put off their riding garments and were dressed in richly embroidered tunics girded with decorative golden belts, short cloaks in the Criemian fashion, sheer hose and soft felt slippers. The Prince had been given the best of the selection, while Sir Eckhardt and Kolman were dressed about as well as Sir Manfried himself. Presumably enough had been prepared for Bishop Friedman and Father Ludbert as well, so to have six changes of clothes of this level of finery would have not been easy to afford on a knight's earnings, even if he was the son of a baron. Surely even more had been spent on his wife's clothing.

Speaking of which, not long after the three of them were led out of the bedchamber, Gudrun emerged dressed in one of the finer garments of the lady of the house. She was normally dressed well yet somewhat plainly, so the Prince could not help but be taken by the sight of her arrayed as a proper lady.

The Prince took her hand and kissed it, saying, "You look lovely, lady. Of course, you have always looked lovely."

Kolman was about to retort, but he was cut off by Sir Eckhardt, who said, "Will you two stop? Spare us you bickering and keep your wits about you. Do you delight in bringing shame to your master?"

Gudrun bowed her head submissively and said, "Forgive me. It was not my place to speak."

There was an easy way about how she said it that made the Prince feel that she was not exactly brimming with contrition, but even a mostly hollow display like this came tortured from Kolman, as if his entrails were being pulled out.

Thankfully, they were not made to tarry in the solar much longer before another servant appeared to say, "My lords and lady, if you would convene in the great hall. It is time. Our master awaits."

The Prince and his entourage were then led down the stairs to the great hall. There were two tables placed crossways. At the short table at head were Sir Manfried, his wife and his two children. At the longer table were two of Sir Manfried's retainers and what was apparently their child. Prince Wilfried and his entourage were guided to the seats to Sir Manfried's right. Once they were standing at their places, Sir Manfried saluted them by placing his hand over his heart and bowing.

Sir Manfried's entourage then either bowed or curtseyed according to their sex and Prince Wilfried and his entourage responded in kind.

Still bowed, Sir Manfried motioned to the chair in front of Prince Wilfried and said, "Your Highness, if you please..."

One of the servants pulled out the seat for the Prince, and once he was seated, the servant did the same for the other five in his entourage in turn.

Once they were all seated, Sir Manfried said, "By your leave, Your Highness..."

Sir Manfried and his entourage were then seated and one of the servants set trenchers at each of the places at the table, followed by another who set gilded goblets in front of each of the guests and silver goblets before Sir Manfried and his entourage. Next, Adalbert the old steward, as chief of Sir Manfried's servants, poured wine into each of the goblets. Though his hands were not the steadiest, it would have shamed him for another to take this duty from him.

Before any food was to be served, Sir Manfried asked of Bishop Friedman, "Father, might I entreat you to say the blessing?"

It would seem that Sir Manfried did not know who Bishop Friedman was, so whatever his diviner had revealed to him, it was not everything. If he proved to be in league with the enemy, all was not yet lost, but they needed to know for certain. The Prince did not have much confidence in his ability to subtly bring the truth to light, but perhaps one of his companions could accomplish this where he was unable.

Bishop Friedman bowed his head and folded his hands. Prince Wilfried kept one eye half-opened to ensure their hosts were actually joining in the prayer and not seeking to seize an opportunity to strike out at more pious, trusting souls.

The fact that the prayer essentially turned into the Paternoster in the end led Prince Wilfried to conclude that creativity was perhaps not one of the Bishop's spiritual gifts. However, at least in the first part, his words were carefully crafted as a double-edged blade. The Prince wondered if their hosts noticed. Surely they were not so dull-witted to miss the trap laid at their feet. The only question was whether they were in fact clumsy friends or clever foes.

Sir Manfried raised his goblet and said, "To health, to wealth, to hearth and home. To the King of Kings above and our earthly King below."

Everyone raised their goblets in reply and took a drink as he did. As soon as they set down their goblets, the first course was served, a bowl of broth, rye bread and pork greaves.

The Prince wondered if it would be better to hold his tongue, but he found himself echoing what Sir Eckhardt had said earlier, saying, "I mean no insult, sir, but if the son of the King were to return to his homeland, which is still in the hands of the enemy, and find vassals who were still faithful, would he not hope to find men of discretion?"

Sir Eckhardt gave him a look that indicated that he did not feel the same way, but the Bishop was probably right. Stubbornly clinging to their masks while Sir Manfried ignored the effort with equal stubbornness was making them all look like fools. Perhaps speaking plainly would serve to draw out the truth of the matter.

Gudrun gave him a thin-lipped smile and said, "The world is full of wonders."

He nodded to Sir Manfried's wife while holding the hand of his own wife.

Changing the topic, Torvald asked, "How fares our old master? Does he yet live?"

If his bread had been a living thing, Torvald would have been choking it to death the way he gripped it.

Prince Wilfried did not know what she was alluding to, but she was looking at Torvald's wife and judging from the looks she was getting in return from Torvald, Kolman, and even Bishop Friedman, they knew what she was speaking of.

Gudrun continued, "I recall your true talent being quite particular. Your sight was short, but it was keenly focused. You could grasp at a single thread of the future and it was as if there were no others. If you could make another diviner see only the future of your choosing..."

Somewhat heedlessly, Prince Wilfried said, "Did you not say that you could see no other path than the one that led us here?"

Gudrun nodded slowly, then it was Kolman who spoke up.

Torvald's wife was silent. Indeed, pretty well everyone in Sir Manfried's group, even the children, were still a still as deer who had just been alerted to the hunter. Kolman continued to press her.

The woman betrayed some unease as she presented her defense, saying, "It is no different than the oaths anyone else would be made to swear. It does not mean that our true loyalty—"

She was interrupted by Bishop Friedman, who held up his goblet and said, "A fine thing, gold. They call it the king of metals because it is not easily polluted. Compare it to silver, much quicker to tarnish, but there is a virtue to it. That which would corrupt silver with surely corrupt a man, I have been told. You honor your guests with gold, but what might silver reveal?

"There is a salt of the poppy made with oil of vitriol. When mixed with wine or stronger spirits, it can lighten the heart, ease pain and grant sleep. Blessings to those who suffer, I am sure, but it can be a curse when misused. And when dealing with curses, the virtue of silver can be a true gift from God."

The Bishop then showed their hosts a small silver cross turned black. Sir Manfried blanched at the sight of it, and began to stammer, "Fa-Father, surely you, you do not think that I, I—"

Prince Wilfried looked at his goblet and then said to Bishop Friedman, "But did they not drink the same wine?"

The Prince thought he was being cautious by watching Sir Manfried and the others drink first, but apparently he was not being cautious enough as it would seem that his companions simply pretended to drink. He immediately began to feel ill.

Prince Wilfried did not know if it was the poison or just his imagination at work, but a wave of dizziness swept over him. Even so, he tried to maintain his focus.

With his deception exposed, Sir Manfried attempted to muster his courage to defy the Bishop, asking him, "Are you saying your men would be so reckless?"

This seemed to unnerve Sir Manfried, who hesitated for a moment before placing his fingers in his mouth to whistle loudly. The signal prompted six men-at-arms fully geared, three boys who must have been Sir Manfried's squire and pages, and four of the manservants to surround the table. The sight did not serve to faze Bishop Friedman in the slightest.

Sir Eckhardt joined in next, asking Sir Manfried, "Is this all the men you have? Who is watching our companions? Who is manning the inner gate? Did you think to draw up the bridge? Did you even bar the door to the keep?"

Any knight worth his salt would have taken these most basic of measures, but given the look Sir Manfried gave his men, either he had not thought of it himself or he did not trust his men to have thought of it. Four of the men-at-arms retreated back down the stairs. Sir Manfried reached out vainly in their direction, not wanting to lose so much of his advantage here in the great hall but also realizing that at least that many were needed to secure the way to the keep.

The steely-eyed glares from Bishop Friedman and Sir Eckhardt and their utter fearlessness in the face of the armed men arrayed before them caused those men to falter. A loud noise downstairs made them flinch and that moment's distraction was all the opening that was needed.

It all seemed to happen so fast, but perhaps it was merely the effect of the drug in the Prince's drink. Sir Eckhart, Bishop Friedman, Father Ludbert, and even Gudrun pushed away from table sharply. Though Gudrun was not known for her physical prowess, she dropped down and kicked the chair of Torvald's daughter out from under her, knocking her to the floor. This narrowly spared her when Sir Eckhardt, Bishop Friedman and Father Ludbert upended the table, seized it and made a makeshift shield to charge at Sir Manfried's men. Unable to get out of their chairs quickly enough, Torvald and his wife toppled over and were pushed back as the table was slammed into the wall, then dropped on them and the feet of the men caught in the crush. In swift, brutal fashion, the knight and the two warrior-priests viciously stabbed away at whoever was close at hand with their knives.

The remaining two men-at-arms, the squire and pages, and two of the servants were all dead in short order. Although Prince Wilfried could not see what happened, he could only imagine that Torvald's wife used her arts against Father Ludbert as bluish flames burst around his face, sending him back. In a rage, Bishop Friedman hoisted up the table on his own and slammed it back down on Torvald and his wife, then flipped it over and proceed to stamp upon the witch. Torvald's daughter, who was being held down by Gudrun, cried out at the horrific sight while Kolman was struggling to put out the flames burning Father Ludbert.

Sir Manfried shouted to one of the surviving servants, "My sword!"

The servant, who had been carrying Sir Manfried's sword in the sash about his waist, drew it out and tossed it to his master. Prince Wilfried had not done anything to help thus far and though it fell like a heavy fog was swirling about in his head, he knew that he to do what he could to prevent Sir Manfried from attacking Bishop Friedman or Sir Eckhardt from behind. Clumsily, he picked up his chair and threw it at Sir Manfried. Sir Manfried somewhat succeeded in blocking the chair, mainly because his arm was already up to catch his sword. He reached for the hilt to draw, but Prince Wilfried kicked his table, pushing it back to strike Sir Manfried's hip and make him flinch, giving the Prince time enough to jump over the table and grapple with Sir Manfried for the sword. If he had been clear-headed, it would not have been too difficult for the Prince to wrest control of the sword, but as he was, the two men were near evenly matched.