My father drags the stable boy out of the ballroom and through the door to the kitchens, where he introduces himself to all present as the attending physician and quickly examines the bodies that are being hastily removed.

"It would appear the lady died of a broken heart as she helplessly watched the men she loved kill each other in a duel. By the powers vested in me, it is my learned opinion that all parties died of natural and honourable causes," he proclaims. "I shall write my report as stated and send it to the appropriate authorities," he reassures the man dressd in lordly attire. Brother Victor! In costume? I wonder... My father then brings the full force of his will down upon the stable boy's head and orders him to hold his tongue, if he knows what is best for him.

"There is nothing you can do to bring your evil master back, boy, and everything you can do to bring the wrath of Drakesheath Manor down upon your head. Believe me, son. You do not want that. And stay away from mijn dochter. She does more good than ill to expunge such filth from this world."

"Um, Vader," I interrupt and tug at his sleeve. "Meet Brother Victor, our guide to Drakesheath. He is the monk I told you about who is acquainted with the Godwinsons." I blush in confusion as I study his finely tailored suit and worldly eyes, for there is more man than monk in him. Frantically, I search my memory to be sure I did not confess any personal details during our stroll in the Abbey gardens.