As the cart rattled at breakneck speed through the black, deserted streets, Rain e ran his hands over

his brother's body, searching for the wound. He felt the we t stickiness of blood, but no arrow. Then in the intermittent flickers of moonli ght, he saw that, while the shaft had been broken off, the arrowhead was still d eeply imbedded in Hugh's left buttock. It seemed Taliesin sent the cart at random down whatever street or alley looked the darkest and most impassible. Then he made a sharp turn and drove through a c rumbling stone arch and into the burned-out shell of an abandoned slaughterhouse . The place stank, of old blood and rotting entrails. The fire had destroyed the r oof, so that the night sky showed dark and shadowy through the fallen timbers ov erhead. "We'll stop here a moment, my lord," Taliesin said. "Just till the pursu it dies off a bit." Hugh stirred, brushing against Raine's legs. "What the hell am I lying in?" "Rushes," Raine said. "It smells worse than dung." Hugh took a deep, hitching breath. "No, you're righ t, it smells like summer. Summer grass. I used to watch you ... you and Sybil " He gasped in pain. "What a jest this is. I'm dying from an arrow meant for you." "Christ, Hugh, no one ever died of an arrow in his arse." After a short silence, Hugh said, "Is that where it is? How embarrassing." Raine tried unsuccessfully to smother a laugh. "I'm sorry." "Aye, you would be ... always so damned noble." He drew in shallow, rasping brea th. "I hate you. I've always hated you. "No, you don't." In the distance Raine heard more shouts and the patter of running feet. Hugh groaned. "Christ ... It hurts enough, I ought to be dying." "Look at it this way, little brother you'll be left with a scar that will certainl y intrigue the ladies." Hugh heaved a ragged laugh. "Still, it's a pity, mayhap, that I am not dying. Si nce I have no heirs, Chester would go to Sybil and the king would become her gua rdian. Then he could marry her off to some other poor ass who would have to shar e his bed with you." "I was never in your bed, Hugh." "You were there. You were there." Taliesin's white face suddenly appeared before them. "My lord, the search is coming this way. There's a boat waiting for us beneath t he Southwark bridge and horses on the other side. But we'll have to make a run f or the river." "My brother can't run." A ragged laugh came from the bed of rushes. "What did I tell you? Noble. A noble fool." Hugh's hands reached up to grab Raine's tunic. "Listen, big brother ... about me and Arianna, we " But whatever he was about to say remained trapped behin d his lips, for in the next instant he had fainted. "My lord," Taliesin said, grabbing Raine's arm. "Your brother the earl will be a ll right for the time it takes me to lead the king's men away from here. Then I' ll come back for him. Even if the king's men find him, Henry can do naught but b luster against the earl for helping you to escape. Chester is too powerful an en emy to make." Raine looked down at his unconscious brother. He hated Hugh for what he had done to Arianna, but as usual a part of him couldn't let go of the Hugh he had fough t and played with, and yes, loved when they were boys. "But you, my lord, must leave now," Taliesin was saying, beginning to sound a bi t panicked. "Give me the cassock and I shall lead them off your scent. Here, you take this." The squire pushed his golden helmet against Raine's chest. Raine took it, turnin g it over in his hands. The metal felt warm, hot, in truth. It felt alive. "Aria nna is convinced this thing is magic and that you are a wizard." The boy hooted. "Females! The notions they get sometimes." A man's bull-throated shout echoed though the burnt-out shell. The king's men we re indeed getting closer. Raine was turning the helmet over and over in his hand s, thinking of Arianna. "Aye ... the notions they get."

Taliesin tugged at the cassock, jerking it off over Raine's head, for his master was being sluggish in getting out of it. "You are n ot to let your pride stop you from going to her," he said, sounding like a king issuing a command. Raine's lips tightened, but he said nothing. "Whatever she did, it was done for love of you." Taliesin stared at him, his eye s glittering moonsilver from out of the darkness. Raine had the oddest thought t hat they were no longer eyes at all, but stars. Stars shining for all eternity i n a perpetual night. Taliesin spoke to him from out of this night, nearly singing the words. "For lov e of her, you gave up all that you once held dearest your title, your land, your h onor embodied in the fealty you owed your king." The star-eyes shimmered, bright ened. "Do you regret this sacrifice, my lord?" "No!" Raine said on a sharp expulsion of breath. "Then do not make her regret hers." The strange light in the squire's eyes dimme d. He turned aside, draping the cassock over his head. "This is your final trial , my lord, please do not bungle it," he said, his voice muffled by the heavy woo l. "For this time I cannot be there to see you through it." He heaved a bellowy sigh. "I don't mind telling you these last few years have been very taxing on my feeble strength, what with your pride and my lady's stubbornness. It's no wonde r " Raine grabbed the boy's shoulders and propelled him through the arch. "Taliesin, if you are going to be a diversion, for the love of Christ, quit flapping your jaws and go be it." Taliesin started off. Then he turned back. He snatched the helmet out of his mas ter's hands and dropped it down on top Raine's head. "On the off chance that it might indeed be magic, my lord, it would help if you were wearing it." Again he set off. Again he turned, and running backward, he lifted a hand in far ewell. "Goddess be with you, my lord," he whispered. And Raine knew in that instant he would never see the squire again. He took off running in the direction opposite of that Taliesin had taken. Before long he heard shouts and the pattering of running feet, but leading off away fr om him, and he knew the diversion was working. He had gone about a hundred yards when a white mist began to curl up from the re fuse-strewn streets. It seemed to thicken with each step he took, so that before long he was enshrouded in an impenetrable whiteness that was strangely, for mis t, dry and warm. He couldn't see a damn thing. But he could tell where he was by the smell of wha t coated the streets urine and dyes in Tanners' Row, blood and entrails in Butcher s' Lane, and the sharp tang of acid in Glass Workers' Street. In Goldsmiths' Lan e he nearly broke his neck tripping over a heavy chain that was stretched across the street to make the escape of thieves more difficult. The mist muffled all sounds. Occasionally he heard the rattle of a watchman's ir on shaft and the creaking of signboards in the wind, but most of the time he was wrapped up in a swaddling of silence. The slap of waves against the pier told him he had found the river. That and the smell, which was a noisome combination of night soil, rotting rushes, and fish guts. He found the boat. Across the river, the horse was there, where Taliesin h ad said it would be. Raine suddenly realized that on this side of the Thames, the night was as clear and black as a Welsh lake. He looked back, expecting to see the walls and spires of London enshrouded in fog, and was shocked to see the moon hanging slender an d silver as a sickle above the White Tower. He tilted his head back and looked up at the stars. They filled the sky shimmeri ng and glittering like thousands of diamond flakes tossed into a well. He sucked in a deep breath. He was free, as free as the stars. He could go south to France, sell his sword to King Louis, perhaps earn himself a new title, a new castle. Or he could go west, toward Wales, where a castle alr eady awaited him, attached to a new liege lord, and an old dream. Aye, he could go home, home to Wales and Arianna ... if his pride could but live

with the knowledge of the price she had paid. She stood on top a windswept hill, a bouquet of bell heather cradled in her arms . Above her a golden sun hung suspended in a sky of so vivid a blue it made her eyes ache. Yet within her there dwelled a choking grief, suffocating her heart S he had lost him, lost him, oh God, she had lost him. In the distance, something moved ... a man on horseback riding toward her. Hope flared within her, sharp and hot and brilliant, like a spark off flint. The fiery wind blew harder, searing the skin on her face. The perfume of the hea ther tickled her nose. Closer he came, at a slow and easy canter. Tears blurred her eyes and she stretched out her arms. The wind snatched at the flowers, blowi ng them away in a swirl of blue and purple petals. He reined in halfway up the hill, dismounting, and sunlight shone bright on his golden head. For a moment her disappointment was so sharp she cried aloud with t he pain of it. But then he reached up with both hands to his head and she saw th at it was a helmet he wore, a golden helmet. He tossed the helmet on the ground, and this time the sunlight glinted off the blue lights in his raven-black hair. He looked up at her, tense and hesitant as if afraid to come farther, as if unsu re of her, of her love, and the thought made her smile, for he was her man and h er love for him was indelible and eternal. He took a step toward her. She laughed, hysterical with joy, and began running down the hill, running to he r one true love. His arms wrapped around her, hard and strong, and she settled i nto his embrace as if coming home after a long, long time away. His voice flowed over her, warm like the wind. "I love you, Arianna. God, God, I love you." She tilted back her head to see his face, the face of her beloved. "I told you that I would wait," she said. "Aye." "I will always be waiting, Raine." "Aye," he said again. He held her tight and spun her around and around, and the wind took with it the sound of their laughter, so that it went on and on and on, carried along the cir cle of time.