Sir Brian leaned his palms on the stonework of his window and looked out to the east at the rising moon. The outer bailey stood nearer the keep at this side and from his third story window he could look over the wall and see the distant shore of the partial moat and the lapping water among the rushes. The moon played among the rushes; darting in and out between the reeds with a playful repetition on the wind-blown surface of the water. Occasionally, when the water flowed just right, the silvery moon reflected its waned arc full to Sir Brian’s face.


    He watched this pleasant scene for a while and then bent to look more immediately below him. The wall dropped straight down for most of the way to the ground before angling slightly out as a batter. A few flimsy buildings leaned against the wall but the knight looked up a little and noticed a few geese wandering slowly along a lane. He tired of them after a time and withdrew into his chamber and prepared for bed.


    After completing his night prayers he rose, pinched out the last candle, and went straight to bed.


    After what must have been a few hours, Sir Brian awoke thinking he heard a noise.


    “Sir Rothbur?” he said into the night.


    No answer. The room held a silence no different than the one he fell asleep to, but now it seemed, to his heightened awareness, to hold a mysterious secret.


    ‘Don’t be silly,’ he thought to himself, ‘or it will last all night.’ And so, with a grunt, he turned onto his side and put all uneasy prickings away.


    He almost drifted back to sleep and started to breathe deep again when he thought he heard another sound; that of leather rubbing against another rough cloth. He opened one eye though his prior resolution protested, and his blood froze in his heart.


    A man inched closer from mere paces away. Though the moon was further advanced in the heavens, enough light found its way in through the unshuttered window and shone on each metal buckle, button, and clasp of the man. But worst of all it shone on the blade in his hand.


    All this he observed the instant he opened his eye and he flung his cover full in the face of the assassin and rolled out of the way of his lunge. He leaped from the bed and turned to face the man, drawing his own knife and calling, “Ye knave! Face me in the day like a man.”


    The knave bounded over the bed without a word and hardly made a sound. He crashed into Sir Brian who stood ready for him. The knight knocked away a slice but the attacker held him by the clothes about his neck. He wrenched the grip loose with his free hand as he fended off the deadly knife thrusts with the other.


    Once he broke away he shouted, “Sir Rothbur!” This time he lunged at his attacker who  flashed out of the way. He shouted again, “Sir Rothbur!” The other knight appeared in the doorway and took in the situation before him. He closed the door behind him and ran to his friend’s assistance but the precaution was in vain; Sir Brian struck his opponent and the knife went flying. The assassin flew after it and as he reached down to grab it, Sir Rothbur, running toward him, saw a distinct brand mark on his forearm. It flashed before his eyes for less than a second before the man parried Sir Brian’s sword thrusts from his heart.


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    Sir Rothbur joined the fight and the two pressed him close but didn’t strike where they could. The knave noticed that now with two to one they wanted to take him alive. With the sudden realization he broke toward the window. The two couldn’t stop him and he jumped out. They both poked their heads out and looked down amidst a terrible crash and the terrified call of some chickens. The man apparently landed on a thatch roof and fell through into a stable. Still with chickens squawking to raise the street, the door opened and the man ran out headlong down the street and disappeared around a corner.


    Sir Brian moved to the bed and sat down heavily, his heart beating from his sudden scare as if he just ran miles.


    “What was that about?” Sir Rothbur asked in a gruff voice, turning away from the window.


    “I’ve no idea,” said Sir Brian. “I woke with him almost to my throat.”


    “I didn’t know this city had secret societies,” Sir Rothbur commented.


    “You think it was someone like that, then?”


    “I figure so what with the brand on his arm. He wouldn’t have gotten that in decent company.”


    Sir Brian looked confused. “I didn’t see a brand mark.”


    “I tell you I saw it,” Sir Rothbur said, facing his friend, “when he reached down for his knife right when I came in.”


    The two looked at each other for a few wordless moments, then Sir Rothbur turned back to the window and looked out. “There are alot of lights on but of course it''s too late; he’s well hidden by now. Maybe the sentries will pick him up.”


    Sir Brian grunted distractedly and slowly rose from his seat. Sir Rothbur understood his friend’s distraction but didn’t turn back to the window; a score of faces at least would stare up at him and all he would do is look back.


    “Was it... Semias?” Sir Brian mumbled, half to himself.


    Sir Rothbur answered gruffly, “That’s it! The scoundrel as much as told you to watch out for something like this. Won’t this incense him when he finds out his plan failed. Ha!”


    “If he wants me dead he won’t give up that easily.” Sir Brian mumbled a little louder this time, but turned his head from the floor and looked at his friend. “Well, I shouldn’t sleep anymore tonight even if I wanted to and first thing in the morning I’m going to tell Cajetan or Boniface about this.”


    “My faith!” exclaimed Sir Rothbur, “They’ll know of this secret society. I just wish I saw that brand clearly.”


    “I wish I saw it at all. I’ll want you with me when I tell them this night’s events,” Sir Brian said. “Oh, how will I ever sleep again?” he mused and held his face in his hands.


    Sir Rothbur looked around briefly and said, “There’s a first-rate fireplace in my chamber we can get going. If you aren’t sleeping more tonight we might as well sit up and talk; there’s nothing like staring at a fire to let thoughts flow and hurts dissipate.”


    *****


    Early next morning the two went looking for their friends of the previous day. Out in a courtyard they had the lucky chance to run across both together. Sir Brian described the events from the night and asked the two advisors their opinion.


    Both held the opinion that Semias caused the attack. They wanted Sir Brian to watch his back and leave for Echo Slope as soon as he could manage.


    “Calling Semias’ bodyguard a secret society,” Cajetan said, “is appropriate. They act like one.”


    “I wonder where they meet,” Boniface continued.


    “If we knew we could charge in there with a few hundred men and clear the nest,” Sir Brian said.


    The others laughed at his choice of words.


    “I’m only half-joking,” he said. “His bodyguard wasn’t formed to get revenge on one knight. It will cause worse trouble.”