[Mkguild] Gauging Loyalty (2/3)

[C. Matthias]

2 of 3

Metamor Keep: Gauging Loyalty
By Charles Matthias


July 13, 708 CR


The tent Marcus had provided for him was similar to the type he 
provided to Metamor's patrols. Enough room to sleep while protected 
from the wind and rain and to stow his gear, as well as to dress 
himself and leap out for battle, but no more. The inner circle of 
camp was full so George set his tent near Sir William's. The ram's 
tent was easy to find; it was the largest in the camp and the only 
one tall enough for a Keeper to stand.

By the time he had his arranged, the sun had disappeared behind the 
mountains leaving them with a twilight blue sky and shadowed colors 
everywhere. The black-faced ewe had spooned out most of the gruel 
already, but George knew if he wished for some he could have asked. 
Instead he found a place near the fires to recline and listen to the 
banter of the soldiers. Some whispered about him but he pretended not 
to hear it. At least, from what he did hear, his reputation with the 
Hareford patrols was a good one.

He identified a few more garrulous than the rest and joined them in 
the telling of ribald jokes and old conquests. After a few exchanges, 
half a dozen men surrounded him and begged for more tales of 
adventures in foreign lands. George obliged for a time, but as the 
gloom deepened and stars began to twinkle in the sky, he turned the 
talk to Hareford, the rigors of their patrols, and their new commander.

"The ram is fierce," an older hare offered. "We've always kept close 
watch of the woods, but he wants far more from us. It's good to be 
out and about more. It's good to have a man who has led sieges and 
not just defended against them in charge."

"Aye, aye!" a crow agreed. "I used to just deliver messages, but he's 
convinced me I'm worth more than my wings."

"Lot of pain in his heart though," the hare added.

"Not bringing Blanche along cause she can cook," muttered a human man 
in his twenties.

"You ever hear anything of the sort from his tent?" The hare snapped, 
swatting the man behind the head. "Don't be saying such things!"

"He weren't born here," the man pointed out. "Metamor'll send him 
somewhere else just like all the other commanders they've put here." 
Realizing who he was speaking to, the man looked at George and added 
in a grumble, "Meaning no offense."

"None taken," George waved a hand and stretched his foot paws toward 
the fire. "I've said for years we needed permanent commanders and 
troops here to support the garrison. Is Blanche the cook?"

"Aye, um," the man nodded, glancing up at the hare who glared back 
down at him, both ears tipping toward him. "Aye, she is. Nice. Good 
cook. Even manages to make gruel taste okay; normally makes other 
things though. Takes care of Sir William's needs."

"She even sheared him few weeks back," the crow noted. "Showed him 
how and all."

"And been good to have her along," a bobcat said, tail swaying back 
and forth behind him. "Do wish she'd cook more meat though. She makes 
a fantastic stew with coneys." He offered a fang-filled grin toward the hare.

The rabbit ignored him, focusing instead on the jackal. "Will he 
really be permanent? And the other troops? Are they staying this time?"

George spread his hands and wiggled his toes toward the flame, 
enjoying the warmth and the way the light played through his claws. 
"Duke Thomas has not changed his mind about either. So long as the 
Duke is happy they will stay. And so long as I'm happy, I can keep 
his grace happy."

His ears lifted as the sound of footsteps approached from behind 
them. "Partol master?" He turned his head and saw Marcus coming, eyes 
fixed on him. "Sir William will see you now in his tent."

He patted his thighs and began to push himself up. "Ah, well, I best 
not keep him waiting. Thank you for sharing the fire, my friends. 
Enjoy your evening!"

----------

William set the empty bowl of gruel at the end of the small table in 
the middle of his tent. The table was no more than two hands high, 
which made it comfortable to recline on his knees with his hooves 
sprawled behind him. Small carpets were arrayed around the table for 
himself and his guests. The grass carpeted the rest, except the patch 
nearest him which he'd begun to eat. Lamps hung from the three tent 
poles providing warmth and light. A recessed alcove at the rear was 
draped by a green tapestry with the issuant ram head heraldry of his 
house; behind it lay his cot and gear. A smaller alcove was reserved 
for Blanche.

Spread across the table was a map of Hareford and the surrounding 
countryside. The details were clearest for the first hour out from 
the fort, and the roads were mostly accurate, but parts of the 
surrounding mountains and forests were guesses. He'd had Sebastian 
and the other surveyors fixing those guesses for the last four 
months. The old road northwest from Hareford toward Eagle Tower and 
the Dike was mostly complete, but the passage to the Gateway was 
almost blank and would need to be started anew.

William traced his thick fingers across the page as his ears flicked 
against his horns at the sound of paws and hooves outside his tent. 
He could hear soldiers laughing in the distance. So close to home 
they all felt safe. There were enough on patrol around the camp he 
would allow them the balm of mirth this night. Soldiers needed to 
laugh or they'd never swing a sword or lift a shield when they must.

He sliced free another clump of grass and chewed, making sure no 
blades were stuck to his snout. He'd taken pride in being made in the 
likeness of a ram by the Curses of Metamor; it was the ancient sigil 
of his house and now apart from his name his only connection. It was 
a sign he had not been wholly shamed by his exile.

Some thought sheep were stupid, weak, and all alike. But a shepherd 
knew their flock, and knew the personalities for each. Simple lives, 
certainly, but in them was much bravery and wisdom. The rams 
especially were called to lay down their lives for the flock. They 
did not need as much as other animals and William had always prided 
himself so. As both soldier and noble he did what was necessary for 
his men and for his family.

Some would say he went too far, and as he chewed he pondered anew the 
stupidity of his feud with Masyor. All to protect his son he gave no 
quarter and refused to back down when wiser heads would have seen the 
events as misunderstandings and accidents.

And when he pondered such things, he wondered if becoming a ram was 
more than a sign of comfort; it was also a judgment.

Virtue and vice. Was he a ram because of both?

He swallowed the grass and sheathed his knife before he took any 
more. He ran thick fingers along the black wool growing at the nape 
of his neck, letting the first strands curl around his heavy nails. 
What would his son think when he saw the picture? Would he see the 
man behind the facade of the beast, or the beast his father had been 
revealed at last.

A bleat came out of him, and a fire kindled burned hot and red in his 
heart. "My son loves me! He loves me!" And if he came to Metamor he'd 
want to be a ram too.

He steadied himself at the sound of paws approaching his tent door.

"Sir William?" Marcus called from beyond. "Patrol Master George is 
here to speak with you."

"Send him in!" William brushed at his snout one last time but there 
was no more grass to clean.

The jackal bent over as he stepped inside but straightened when he 
discovered enough room to stand. His eyes swept the interior once 
then settled on his host. William stood up and gestured to the other 
side of the table. "Welcome to my tent, George. Come and sit. Have 
you had something to eat?"

The jackal accepted the invitation and soon both reclined across the 
table. "I decided against both the gruel and hunting in the woods. I 
have some of my own supplies I prefer. But if you have anything to my 
taste, I will gladly have some."

"I keep some jerky in my tent for when Marcus, or another commander 
of a carnivorous curse comes calling. Deer hunted last winter. Care for some?"

The jackal smiled, tongue lolling out past his teeth in a very canine 
pant. "I would indeed. Thank you."

William opened a trunk and produced two pewter goblets, a wineskin, 
and a stick as long as his hand of salted jerky. George uncorked the 
wineskin and poured a finger's width into each goblet. His eyes 
briefly peered at the trunk as he redid the cork, but William stood 
between them. After handing the wineskin back to William, the ram 
returned it to the trunk and closed it.

"Now, you wished to come and discuss my plans to improve defenses 
here in Hareford and for the valley." William gestured to the map 
between them as he reclined. "Here is my best map. You can see where 
the roads are now, and where the road the men you brought will be built."

George took the jerky and gnawed at the end as his eyes scanned the 
map. He blinked for a moment and then turned the map around to see it 
better. He tapped his claws in several places, ears lifting and 
folding back. William watched his tail patting down the grass as it wagged.

"The map isn't finished. The details here around Hareford are 
excellent. While I don't know the path to Eagle tower itself as well 
as you, I know my way around the Dike, and it looks very close to the 
other maps I've seen and what I remember." George lapped once from 
his goblet then wiped the flecks on his whiskers with the back of one 
arm. "Are you making this map? If so, I'll want a copy when it's done."

William nodded. "It's why I have those with at least some skill in my 
patrol acting as surveyors. We're adding a little bit more to the 
maps with every patrol. No, we don't spend all of our time surveying, 
and I don't have anyone from a Guild here, not yet, but I did request 
some." He did not need to ask the question.

"The road crews always have some trained." George took another bite 
and narrowed his eyes as he studied the map. "So, tell me more about 
this road; I heard you wanted to divert it further east."

"Aye." William leaned over the table, and taking his knife, ran the 
tip along a small line east of the road. "There's a combe here the 
scouts are using for natural cover. The ravine is only two to three 
dozen hands deep and it's surrounded by thick trees on all sides 
which makes it easy to move quietly. However, it gives any other 
force the high ground and so the road has to follow the western or 
eastern banks for safety. I preferred putting the road on the eastern 
bank to use the combe as a natural buffer, but Nestorius says it is 
too close to the Haunted Woods. With the road on the western side, 
now travelers will have no defenses from the north should a Lutin 
raiding party or worse come calling, and if forced off the road, be 
stuck in the ravine." William shoved his knife in the dirt with a 
bleat. "You can imagine how well it will end."

George nodded. "I see. I'd have preferred the eastern bank as well. 
Natural defenses are often the best. But there's no arguing about the 
Haunted Woods. At least not until the spirits there can be pacified." 
He took a bite of jerky and scratched under his chin. "So what's your 
plan to protect the road?"

"We'll clear the trees on the western bank for fifty paces so 
travelers will not be caught unawares. I'd also like a system of 
smaller watchtowers established between Eagle Tower and Hareford to 
keep watch over the road and the rest of the woods. We can easily 
erect them from wood for now, but eventually they should be stone 
too." William rested one hand on his knife, plucked it from the 
ground, and wiped the dirt off with his hoof. "Have you been to Eagle 
Tower? It's well designed. I am surprised there aren't others like it 
here in the north."

The jackal swallowed and shrugged. "I've been there once or twice. 
There are a couple more like it in the south, but the passage between 
Hareford and the Haunted Wood is the critical one, and at the time, 
only one tower was needed. It was also all we could afford after 
Three Gates. Perhaps now we can do better. At the very least we 
should have this road finished by Harvest. How many watchtowers did 
you want to build?"

"Three at least. Our surveys showed three was the bare minimum to 
ensure good line of sight from Eagle Tower to Hareford."

"I thought you already could see Eagle Tower from Hareford, or at 
least the signal light."

William flicked his ears against his horns. "You can, but not in bad 
weather. Even so, the signal light is no light at all but a magical 
artifice to alert Hareford directly. The watchtowers will allow us to 
have a true signal light as an extra precaution for Hareford, and to 
more quickly warn travelers or patrols on the road of coming danger."

George chewed for a moment as his eyes studied the map. After several 
seconds they lifted, yellow embers fixing the ram in the wan light of 
the tent. "I think your plan for the road is reasonable and about the 
best one can do for now. What sort of provisioning do you intend for 
the watchtowers?"

"A week's worth of food at most, with three day rotations of four men 
teams to keep things fresh. Once we can replace them with stone 
towers we can stock them better with both food, weapons, and men. 
They are not intended to be indefinitely defensible, so we don't need 
to worry about being starved in a siege, but they could act as rally 
points for patrols running ahead of the enemy."

"In sooth," George agreed. "At the very least the road will be 
cleared and built this summer. I make no promises about the wooden 
watchtowers, but the craftsmen are at your disposal until Harvest. 
Accomplish as much as you can." George sat up and shifted his legs to 
the other side. He then swirled his wine in the goblet and finished 
the last drops. After wiping his muzzle on his arm he said, "Now, 
let's talk about this wall."

William took his knife and pointed the tip along the map in a line 
between mountains. The mountains around Eagle Tower were detailed 
while those on the eastern side of the valley were rough and copied 
from other maps they'd already had at Hareford. "This is the site of 
the ancient Giant's Dike. I want to build another one. It will make 
invasion from the north far more difficult and give us a strong 
defensive position. Hareford was supposed to be your first line of 
defense against invasion, and they were completely cut off from the 
Winter Assault. From what I understand they even made their base camp 
south of here, near where the chasm cuts across the road between 
Tarrelton and Hareford."

George tapped with a single claw the area with the Dike and then the 
narrow ravine. "At least rebuilding the bridge was simple enough. 
Securing the foundations before the thaw turned the ravine into a 
river again was more challenging. Rebuilding the Dike... you do 
realize Metamor has wanted to do so since the duchy was reestablished 
almost five hundred years ago?"

William snorted. "Wanting to do something and having the will to do 
something are entirely different."

"Aye, aye," George drummed his claws on the map a few times more 
before leaning back and finishing off the jerky. His tongue cleaned 
his jowls much like the dogs William had owned in Mallow Horn after 
snatching a scrap fallen from the feast table. "But neither you nor 
Metamor has the money to finance such a venture. The men? With all 
the refugees from Bradanes settling across the valley, we've more 
than enough, but few are trained for such work. And, as your letter 
noted, we've more than enough rock to quarry for it. But the money we 
do not have."

William shook his head. "And this is why you lost to me in battle, 
George." The jackal's ears lifted. William crossed his arms and sat 
taller. "You think we must accomplish it all in one great effort. I 
have no illusions. The wall as I imagine it will not be built in even 
twenty years. This is the effort of generations. And it is financed, 
supplied, labored, and planned over generations. I defeated you not 
with a single stroke, but with several steps, each move cutting your 
supplies or diverting your men into traps until you had no choice but 
to flee. You may have captured me in a bold, surprising move, but it 
was already too late for you. I escaped and your men were routed."

William leaned forward, ears straight out, and spread his hands 
across the map so the vellum snapped against the table. "This wall 
will not stop an army next year. It will not stop an army in ten 
years. But in thirty? It will balk them and give us time to mount our 
defense and counter-attack. And in a hundred years, if Eli blesses us 
with such time, it will take the combined efforts of every tribe, 
cult, nation, monster, abomination, man, woman, and child in the 
Giantdowns to breach it; and the pile of corpses at the base of my 
wall will number in the hundreds of thousands before she is breached. 
But against any other army, it will hold firm and Metamor will be 
safer than it has been in a thousand years.

"I am not asking for everything. This year the only thing we truly 
can do is begin drawing up plans. The first set of plans must cover 
what the initial wall will look like: the foundation, the gatehouses, 
the towers, and the barracks. Additional plans must be developed, and 
this is where you come in, to patrol and protect the craftsmen and 
engineers while the wall is under construction. More plans must be 
devised to provision all of these men and to ensure the supply lines 
from Hareford and Metamor are steady. More plans and surveys of the 
valley will need to be undertaken just to find the right rock to 
quarry and then to do so, and where to store and transport the rocks. 
And plans must be devised to pay the wages of the men, for there will 
be thousands involved. Without even deriving such plans, how can we 
ever know if we can do this or not?"

William bleated as he leaned back, one hand grabbing a fistful of 
grass. He chewed and watched the jackal who reclined without offering 
any certain clues apart from his lifted ears and still tail how he 
felt. George took a deep breath, glanced down at the map, the empty 
cup, and then back at the ram. His voice was measured and a slow nod 
came to his head. "You do realize it now sounds even more difficult 
than before? Even so, you've convinced me there's no harm in making 
plans. I suppose we cannot truly know the cost until then. Though, if 
you are building on top of the old Empire wall it will save time at least."

The jackal barked a laugh and scratched behind one ear. "And just so 
you know, you don't need to keep reminding me of our little skirmish 
in the Midlands. You defeated me in combat and I learned a good 
lesson; protect your supply lines! I like you, William. I knew the 
best thing in the world Metamor could do with a man like you was put 
you at our most critical border and let you do whatever it was you 
wanted. I came here not to be convinced the wall was a good idea, but 
to understand how you thought it might even be possible. To be 
honest, I still think it will be too expensive for Metamor to pursue, 
but... I will tell his grace he'd be a fool not to draw up the plans 
you suggest. Who knows, maybe it will be possible."

George stretched out his legs again, arching his back. When he looked 
at the ram again, his smile broadened, ears lifted in an almost 
ravenous grin. "Now, one more thing about those plans. Nestorius 
tells me you already have some drawn up showing some of the defenses 
and such. Do you have it with you? If so, I'd very much like to see it."

"Nay, those I have left at Hareford. I was neither planning on 
venturing to the Dike on this patrol nor was I expecting you or 
anyone from Metamor to come."

"Pity," George frowned for a moment and then gestured at the map 
where the road led up into the western mountains. "I take it you are 
headed here then? I believe folks from here and the Glen call it the Gateway?"

"Aye, there's a narrow pass in the mountains here at the northwestern 
end of the valley which leads into an alpine meadow. There used to be 
another pass into the Giantdowns from there, opened out near the Sea 
of Souls, but it was sealed after an earthquake."

"Many years before even I came to Metamor," George noted.

"Even so, it is not completely impassable and so I want to build new 
watchtowers there and along the northern road. This part of the 
valley is mostly empty and in time I see no reason villages won't 
grow here too. We'll arrive there tomorrow and I intend to spend a 
week surveying the land to determine where the best places for 
watchtowers are and if there are any additional defenses we need."

"And if I asked you to turn around and take us to the Dike so you can 
show me your plans for the wall there?"

William wrapped one hand around his ankle and focused all of the 
tension flaring within him into his fingers where the jackal couldn't 
see it. "I have already prepared for our excursion into the Gateway. 
You are more than welcome to accompany us there, but neither my men 
nor I will appreciate you commandeering us all to patrol an area we 
already know well."

"I am not here for the love of you or your men. I am here because 
Duke Thomas thought your idea was worth looking into. But if you 
really don't want me to give him a good report."

William bleated and slammed his fist on the table. The empty dinner 
bowl bounced and tipped onto the rug. "You threaten me? In sooth! Are 
you truly a fool mercenary? You'd risk the safety of this valley for 
your pride?"

George shrugged his shoulders. "I won't know if I am or not unless I 
see this for myself. How could I?"

"Bah, pretense! You know the Dike as well as any at Metamor."

"And you have ordered men to turn around and march somewhere new when 
you have learned it could give you an advantage. Why does the idea of 
returning to Hareford after a day upset you?"

William snorted a gust of hot air into the jackal's face before 
turning aside to pick up the empty bowl and return it to the table. 
He counted to ten in his mind. "You mistake me. If marching back to 
Hareford and then to the Dike is the wisest action, or if I am 
ordered, then I will do so. You have not ordered me directly, and you 
cannot, because I am not subject to your authority. You are patrol 
master for Metamor, but my command is from Duke Thomas, not the 
patrols. Instead you seek to coerce me by threat of a poor report for 
my plan. Do you think I will do so because of arrogance on my part?"

George ran his claws through his tail and shook his head. "No, I 
think you'll do it because you actually do want to protect Metamor." 
His jaws split in a vicious grin. "I am paying you a compliment, 
William. Others at Metamor may wonder how loyal you are to your new 
home. I've never doubted you."

"Small comfort." William heaved a sigh and leaned back, drumming two 
fingers on his hooves. He narrowed his eyes. "Is there anything I can 
do to prove my loyalty?"

"Years of loyal service." George let his jowls drop. "No other way really."

"Aye, I know."

"I came here as an untrusted exile too," George continued. "But with 
time I gained their trust." The jackal paused for a moment. "And they 
gained mine."

William grunted but said nothing.

George looked the ram up and down for a moment before letting the 
smile return. "William, I know life as an exile is miserable. I know 
you miss your old life. Especially your family. Let Nestorius help 
you contact them. You'll be a lot less sour and have a much better 
temper if you do."

He did not turn to look at the trunk behind him with the 
half-complete portrait and letter from his eldest. "Perhaps. Perhaps 
I should. I promised I would not. Duke Thomas expects me not to do so."

"A stupid promise. Coerced I imagine. You've already renounced claim 
on your old titles so what does it matter now? Do the rest of 
Hareford and Metamor a favor and contact them already."

"The last they saw of me I was a man. Now..."

"Now you have an remarkable set of horns to impress your children 
with. Your oldest is what, nine?"

"Ten."

"Your children will love what you've become, once they know it's you. 
Your wife, well, I'm not one to give advice there, I'm a little more 
familiar with brothel girls."

"Of course you are."

George yipped a laugh and put his hands to his chest and wagged his 
tail. "A soldier needs his comforts. Now." He put one hand on the map 
and tapped it with his claws. "I confess, I would love to accompany 
you into the mountains to survey the Gateway; it's been a long time 
since I've been there. But I can only be away from Metamor for a week 
at most, and it took a day to get here. I do not have the time to 
journey with you to the Gateway if I have any hope of seeing with my 
own eyes what you hope to do at the Dike. I am here at Duke Thomas's 
request. I cannot give a good report without seeing it. So if you 
want me to make the best report I can, we should make with all haste 
to Hareford.

"Besides," George leaned forward, his smile easy, ears upright but 
relaxed. "I brought the craftsmen you wanted to start work on your 
road. They're going to need your direction to get the job done. 
You're going to have to head back anyway."

"And," William interjected. "I can always send others to survey the 
Gateway. I prefer to see it myself, but, I now see your meaning. You 
should have spoken plainly to begin with. We could have saved 
ourselves a little time and temper."

"Your temper. I know you are honest, William, but you anger too 
easily. If I'd known back in the Southern Midlands, you'd never have 
beaten me."

He bleated and leaned back. "Perhaps. Perhaps. Is there anything else 
you wish to discuss tonight?"

George drummed his fingers once on the map and then yawned. "Just one 
thing. I stopped by your supply wagons after pitching my tent. Why 
are you making your men eat gruel when you have plenty better to feed 
them with? Why are you eating it?"

William picked up the bowl and turned it over in his hands. The scent 
was still strong and he had to resist the urge to stick his in snout 
and lick the last dregs. "Soldiers must abide on whatever is 
available, and sometimes even worse things than gruel. So I always 
try to serve the worst food the first night. The rations will be 
different and better tomorrow. Blanche knows what I prefer for the 
men. Besides, for some of us, gruel tastes very good indeed!"

The jackal could only shake his head as he started to stand. "I have 
eaten such things many times before, but... I am glad I am not in 
your command, Sir William. We mercenaries like to eat well. I bid you 
good night."

"Good night." William stood, stepped to the tent flap, and gestured 
out with one arm. "We will break camp after sunrise. Sleep well."

The jackal slipped out and the ram sniffed then snorted. He waited a 
few seconds before calling, "Marcus, come in."

The brown-feathered eagle slipped inside, pausing only a moment to 
untangle the tip of his bow from the corner of the tent flap. "Sir 
William. I trust your meeting with the Patrol Master went well?"

William stepped toward the table and gestured for his friend to join 
him. "He wants us to turn around and head for the Dike." Of course 
the head of the Hareford scouts heard every word shared between Ram 
and Jackal. He was too much a soldier to admit it; one more thing 
William admired and trusted about him.

Bird eyes rarely showed surprised but Marcus gave it his best effort. 
"In sooth? He wishes to review your plans for the wall atop the ruins?"

"Aye. And I am forced to admit he has a good point. I would prefer to 
continue on to the Gateway as planned, but tomorrow I must return and 
bring some of the men with me. I would like as many of the surveyors 
to continue on to the Gateway as planned. Can you handle the command 
until I send another of our patrol commanders from Hareford to take 
your place? They will not even be a full day behind you."

Marcus bobbed his head at the question. The head of Hareford's scouts 
was not in William's direct line of authority much as he was not 
under George's. The scouts were intended to gather news and game; 
they defended themselves if they must, otherwise they were to avoid 
direct combat. William could conscript the scouts into his patrols if 
the need were great, but for any other reason, he would always ask 
for their aid.

Besides, Marcus and his sister were close associates of Nestorius and 
well liked in Hareford. He wanted to keep them for friends.

"Of course I can. Things are quiet enough. You can let Nestorius and 
Marcia know when you see them on your way tomorrow. Who will you be 
taking with you?"

"Only a few; the road's are safe enough and we'll make better time if 
we are few. I'll organize new men in Hareford for protection near the 
Dike before we set out. I'll bring Alexander with me of course, and 
perhaps two or three others."

The eagle cocked his head to one side as only a bird could. "And Sebastian?"

William glanced down at the trunk which held the incomplete portrait 
the monitor had begun. "Aye, him too."

"May Eli give you speed. I hope George convinces Duke Thomas of your 
plans. But, for now, it will be good to fly in the mountains again. I 
shall retire and get some sleep. You should too. Tomorrow is going to 
be a busy day for both of us."

"Indeed. Good night, Marcus. I will see you in the morning before I leave."

The eagle slipped back out of the tent leaving the ram alone. The 
camp outside was beginning to quiet as night settled over the valley. 
William lowered to one knee beside the trunk and tilted the lid back. 
Resting at the top was the picture and his son's letter. His eyes 
flicked to the profile and then away. Beast and man together. Such 
was the exiled and disgraced Baron of Mallow Horn.

William removed the map from the table, folded it, and placed it atop 
both letter and portrait. He then closed the lid and turned the 
latch. Blanche would be there soon and he was not about to share 
either with her. The less the ewe knew about his true heart the better.

He hefted the trunk and carried it to the curtained alcove in his 
tent where he slept. And there he lay on his chest, snout resting 
upon crossed arms, until the ewe arrived to help him prepare for 
slumber and the day ahead. All he could do was ponder how to have 
Sebastian finish the portrait without George noticing, how he would 
get the portrait to his son, and whether he should finally accept 
Nestorius's offer. For once he could not think of his wall no matter 
how much he tried.

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May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias