by Bert Meinders

Created on: October 08, 2008

It was an exquisitely beautiful Winter-postcard scene, an orange early-morning sun reflected in the unstirring
waters of the lake. As it rose it poured a rosy glow over the walls of the castle sitting on the shoulder of a hill. A bored sentry paced monotonously back and forth along the ramparts, cursing his chillblains and occasionally breaking wind with a sound like distant thunder.

In the woods, something stirred. Two men, on horseback, emerged from among the snow-burdened fir trees, their breath hanging around their heads like smoke. Presently, the taller man spoke.

"Sod this for a life of adventure! I swear I'll never sleep in chainmail again!"

"We might have to," his companion said cheerfully. "These are dangerous parts..."

"If you'd kept your parts under proper control we'd have slept inside last night, in beds!" He shook his head irritably, snowflakes flying from his golden hair and beard.

"She was very persuasive...."

Sir Robert looked at his squire in exasperation.

"She was the baron's daughter, you cretin! That's another good billet you've rogered us out of!" He paused, then continued grumpily.

"And we've got no breakfast."

"We will have soon." He pointed to the castle. The knight looked at it, then at his squire, and sighed.

"You know, Kelvin, every time I convince myself that you've been imposed on me as a penance, you manage to surprise me. We'll try our luck there. Just keep your hands, and whatever else, to yourself this time. And stop smirking; you know my sense of humour sleeps late in Winter."

The sentry was still marching along the ramparts, grumbling to himself about the futility of his task. Who would try to storm this castle in Winter? Men fought in Spring and Summer, when the weather was suitable, and no none had seen a troll or a frost giant in years, except of course Loud Leofric after his tenth tankard.... A movement near the lakeshore caught his eye, and he stared for a moment or two, then ran to the guardhouse.

"Sergeant! Soldiers coming from the forest! Coming this way! What do we do now?"

Cursing, the sergeant struggled out of the kitchen wench's embrace and picked up his sword belt. His eyes followed the sentry's outflung arm. He looked for a second or two, then kicked the man's arse.

"What's this about?" a female voice said behind him. He turned to face the Lady Octavia.

"Two mounted men are approaching the castle, my lady. Their lack of siege equipment confused this fool" he indicated the sentry "and he raised the alarm."

"The gate's still

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