“Damned nuisance, that’s what they are.” Said the Duke, reading his morning dispatches.

“Beg pardon, milord?” asked Bourdon, sipping his tea. The Commandant had arrived shortly earlier, invited to share in a pleasant brunch with Du Panache. Roland suspected, however, that his Duke had more in mind than a simple visit over food.

The Bretonnian Lord placed the papers on a tray, and motioned for a nearby servant to remove them. When they had been taken from his sight, he spoke again. “These women. Every shrine and holy place in the city has been filled with them day and night for the last two weeks. The law demands they be protected while doing so, and forbids interruption. Yet their husbands grow very impatient for their wives to return.”

“Indeed milord?” inquired Roland, feigning interest deftly. “Well, I suppose the women will see fit to end their demonstration of piety soon enough.”

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid not, Commandant. I’ll tell you this in confidence; there have been… incidents.”

“Milord?”

“Nothing serious.” assured the noble. “One or two alcohol-induced confrontations between husband and city guard, quickly and efficiently settled. But as time wears on, one wonders uneasily what might develop.”

Now Roland’s interest was genuine. An opportunity to determine just how badly the Duke might require financial support from a new friend. Bourdon sipped his tea again to center his thoughts. “An idea occurs to me, milord.”

“Yes?”

“Just a thought, it’s probably occurred to you already and been dismissed…”

“Go on.” prompted Du Panache.

Badly enough to listen, thought Roland. “As I understand it, the problem is two-fold: one, the potential mischief the frustrated men might commit, and two, the women creating this ‘frustration’, under the protection of the law.”

“I suppose, yes.”

“Well milord,” continued Roland. “Both problems might be solved by declaring a state of emergency and imposing martial law.”

“What?” exclaimed the Duke. “Commandant, the situation is hardly that severe. Your thoughts are appreciated, but…”

Roland held up his hands, staving off the imminent dismissal. “Milord, I apologize. I’m certain you are correct, I am overreacting. My feelings in such matters tend to be, well, vigorous. Those guardsmen wear your colors, milord. They act in your name. Any attack on the men-at-arms who safeguard this city, no matter how minor or easily handled, equates to an attack on you, their Commander, and on Bretonnia herself. That’s just my opinion on the matter, milord.”

Somewhat mollified, the Duke bade Bourdon continue.

“My Duke, marital law would not have to be enforced for more than a day or two. Simply declare that until further notice permission must be obtained from you or your representatives in order to travel freely within the city.”

“Commandant, that would pose a terrible hardship on the populace…”

“Milord, please.” said Roland calmly. “Hear me out and judge how you will. Our guards would have the right to question anyone they find wandering the streets during the state of emergency. Any member of your army would thus be exempt, as they too act in your name. Merchants must obtain licenses to sell their wares; this can be taken as a type of permission. Any nobles traveling through the city are unlikely to be part of an unruly mob of peasants, and so can also be exempted. In short, the martial law would only be applied to those fomenting disorder. Initially this will mean the men attempting to take their wives from the shrines. These men will be ordered to return to their homes, forcibly if necessary; they will not be allowed to disrupt the public peace. Secondly, these women. They may spend the day in prayer, but they must have food. They must wash, sooner or later. And when they leave the shrines, they are subject to the law as well, and can be ‘escorted’ home, where their husbands will be waiting, less patiently than ever, I suspect.”

Du Panache considered the proposal. “I am unsure, Roland. It would seem to follow the letter of the law, though hardly it’s spirit.”

Bourdon gave a short laugh. “My Duke. It can hardly be a coincidence that suddenly all of these women have suddenly felt the urge to seek out a holy place and beseech the Lady for her blessing. It is an act of defiance, plain and simple. In this they hide behind the letter of the law. Is it not just, then, to show them the price of false piety, of pride, by following the letter of the law as well?”

The Duke still appeared troubled by Roland’s reasoning. All at once, the Commandant decided to gamble, tightening the screws as far as he dared. “I’m sure this is something you’ll want to discuss with your staff, and Earl Cadfael. My apologies again if I spoke improperly. I can see you have weighty matters to deal with. With your permission, I will depart.” Without discussing the possibility of any friendly loans, Roland added mentally.

The Commandant had reached the double doors to the sunroom when the Duke’s voice called him to return, be seated, and perhaps discuss this further.

Roland smiled only slightly as he retook his seat.

The door to Seth’s rooms flew open with a crash, the Boar of Brionne charging in behind it. “Bastard!”

Seth quickly looked toward his bedroom door, seeing it completely shut. He then covered the sketch he had been working on. Of course, there’s no way the Earl would recognize the subject, but he felt it prudent just the same. The doorway held other, far more serious dangers. “Good afternoon, Milord Earl. Why don’t you come in, set a spell…”

Seth found himself swung out of his chair and into a wall at the end of the Bretonnian’s arm. “I’ll kill you for this…” hissed the Earl through clenched teeth.

“Really, I don’t think it’s that bad.” Seth gargled around the fist pressing his larynx against his spine. “It’s just one of those things… it happens.” The chaos warrior had contemplated the discovery of his activities with Lady Simone. Of course, he’d been enjoying one of those activities at the time and hadn’t been able to give it his full attention…

“Who did you tell?” the Nobleman continued obviously enraged.

“Beg pardon?” Seth hadn’t completely recovered, but the question didn’t seem to make any sense.

“It had to be you, Garrick. You told someone something you’d read about our law. That the women could pray. And now men. my men are dead because of your scheming.” The Earl shook the chaos lord like a doll. “You will pay for your treachery!”

“Earl Cadfael.” Seth spoke with perfect calm, enough to break the Bretonnian out of his seething rage. The warrior looked pointedly down at the gauntlet holding him to the wall, then back to the Earl. Slowly the armored noble released the chaos warrior.

“Milord Earl.” began Seth. “I will begin to answer your… charges… by informing you that I hold everything I know concerning this little women’s demonstration in the strictest of confidence.”

Cadfael’s lip curled. “What?”

Seth smiled. “I swore an oath. I intend to keep it. I though you’d be pleased.”

The Earl snarled and smashed derisive backhand into the chaos lord’s grinning face. Seth’s head snapped around, but he did not fall.

“Good one, Milord.” Seth continued smiling, ignoring the blood pouring out his mouth. “I’m not entirely sure how beating an unarmed prisoner who hasn’t even tried to defend himself squares with your version of chivalry. But hey, ‘go with what feels good’ is a pretty common sentiment where I come from, so don’t think I’ll respect you any less if you continue.”

With one last grind of his teeth, the Bretonnian released the robed man, and moved across the room, as if afraid simply being near the chaos warrior might spur him to attack again.

“My apologies Lord Garrick.” began the Earl. We can have that tended to…”

“Forget it.” said Seth. “I already have.” He sat back down, letting the blood dry into the material of his robes. “So, what happened?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Why are you here? Obviously something transpired. ‘My men are dead’, and all that. I wind up getting smacked all over my rooms. Good graces might suggest some sort of explanation…”

Cadfael took a deep breath. Why not? Everyone in the province of Brionne would know soon. “This morning the Duke decreed that martial law would be imposed on the city. He tasked Commandant Bourdon to enforce his decree by clearing the streets of anyone attempting to disturb the peace. Bourdon began at a large shrine not far from the merchant district. The men there refused to be moved, and a riot began when Roland attempted to move them. My men were mobilized to support Roland and quell the disturbance.”

“I take it things went less than smoothly?”

“We were attacked at every turn.” sighed the Earl. “Minor ambushes for the most part; a few arrows fired from long range. But one or two genuine skirmishes as well. It’s like they were all gone rabid, striking out against us like that.”

“But you did manage to stop the riot, yes?” asked Seth.

“We managed to retrieve Roland and his men. But by that time several of the buildings around the shrine had been fired by rioters, and several of my men-at arms down or injured. We retreated in good order to regroup. As we moved we could see rioters and looters down every lane, spreading across the city. Roland wants to ride back out and ‘finish the traitorous fiends’ for good. But these are my countrymen, some even members of my levies. We can’t just ride them down.”

“You know,” Seth began. “You really have to appreciate the irony at work here.”

“I don’t understand.” confessed the Earl.

“You risked your life to save a man who would gladly end yours, one who’s undoubtedly violent actions led to the deaths of your men you’re so despondent about. Yet you come here threatening to kill me, on the basis of what I might have done. That is, that I may have informed some Bretonnian women of their rights under your law. Hardly a crime, educating the ignorant of their rights, is it? And in the meantime, while you dally here, your precious law and order perishes in the fires of civil disobedience and,” He snickered. “chaos.”

The Earl straightened his composure in place. “We will continue this conversation later, Lord Garrick.” With that, he marched out the door.

Seth closed it slowly, and let out a long held breath.

The bedroom door opened a crack. Simone’s veil could be seen peering out. “He’s gone?”

“Yes. For quite a while, I suspect.” answered Seth.

Simone emerged, and moved to the door. “Thank you for keeping my confidence, Seth.”

Seth bobbed his head, seeming almost embarrassed. “Rules of the game, Princess. A good confidence is worth a beating or two.” He rose and pulled her to him, but she quickly broke away.

“I must go. Luc will mobilize every man under arms in the city, but they cannot be everywhere. And women gathered in shrines outside the city walls will be defenseless.”

“I’ll come along.” Seth rose, but was motioned to stay by the noblewoman.

“There won’t be any guards to spare, and Luc doesn’t want you leaving the keep, let alone the city, after what happened last time. It’s just a precaution. I’ll be fine. There’s only a handful of places to check, and I’ll get everyone over to the Mission. They’ll be safe there.”

“Oh yes. I remember how safe it was the last time.” laughed Seth.

“As I recall, those assassins weren’t looking for a bunch of praying women.” She reminded him.

“Hmmm.” He conceded, deciding to pout. “Fine. Leave me all by myself, alone on a beautiful,” He sniffed the air. “smoke-filled afternoon, completely free of the possibility of detection by your brother-in-law, and you want to go out and play lady-knight.”

“Thank you for your permission, Seth.” Cautiously she cracked open the door. The hallway was empty. “Have a nice afternoon. All by yourself.” She blew him a kiss and left.

Seth sat awhile, smelling the soot slowly filling the air, replacing the faint traces of Simone’s soap. Barely past noon and he’d nearly been beaten to death and caught red-handed with a man’s sister, then left behind by his busy female companionship rather than settling in for a few hours of debauched revelry. And worst of all, I’m barely upset about the whole thing. Sigh. No doubt about it, Seth admitted to himself. I’m definitely slowing down in my old age.

A quiet knock came from the door. At Seth’s bid to enter, Lise and Madelynne came into his apartments, staring at him intently and locking the door behind them.

Well, thought the chaos lord. Perhaps I’m not that old after all.

Cadfael reached the courtyard of the Keep to find Francois and Le Brun awaiting orders. "Jean, summon all the men we have. We'll leave a bare handful to hold the Keep, but everyone else marches. Horses are no good fighting house to house, and full plate a hindrance in these quick skirmishes. Francois, get chain shirts and helms issued to all the men, and organize them in blocks of infantry. Also, tell the quartermaster that each man will carry a cudgel with him today, I don't care if he has to start breaking furniture if he needs to. Our troops will carry swords sheathed unless absolutely necessary. Our duty is to suppress rioting and looting, not kill our countrymen. Men will die today regardless, but we'll spare as many as we can. Questions?"

LeBrun remained impassive but his voice was light. "Haven't worn a chain shirt since we were squires. Be nice to move and walk properly again."

Francois coughed, but laughed as well. "As infantry you'll be under my command. Hope you'll be able to keep up."

Even the Earl smiled slightly. "I'll be under your command when we're in ranks. Right now you have your orders. See to them."

The knights saluted, then marched off to see to their tasks. The Earl hesitated a moment, offering a brief prayer to the Lady for mercy on this evil day, then moved off to find his own chain shirt and helm.

Seth stood on the narrow balcony adjoining his rooms, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. He had grown tired of simply sitting inside awaiting the developments of the day and thought he might witness some of them first hand.

As Seth watched a few more men joined the surly throng at the Keep’s main gate. Looking over the city skyline, the smell of smoke hung in the air, and the intermittent sounds of combat clattered in his sensitive ears.

A large commoner standing at the gate shook his fist though the bars at the soldiers within. Obviously, tensions were not easing.

A tap came from the door to Seth’s chambers. He moved swiftly inside, and opening the door found Marc, red-faced and sweaty. Even more than usual for the heavy-set servant.

“Marc?” asked Seth, cautiously.

“Milord,” began Marc. “You must go to the Mission. The one you went to with the Lady Simone, you must go now…”

Seth cocked his head. “Pardon me?” He spoke with deceptive casualness.

“You must go now!” pressed the servant. “The Lady Simone is in terrible danger. There are men going to the mission to kill her!”

The warrior lifted an eyebrow. “Really? And how did we discover this?”

Marc flushed so red he turned nearly purple. “A friend. A friend who overheard them talking about it. More than a dozen men, on their way…”

Seth’s voice slashed like a knife. “What friend? Who do you know who might overhear a conversation like that, and think to tell you about it?”

The servant squirmed like a child needing a chamber pot. “Samuel. The messenger who came here…”

“Yes, I remember Samuel.” interrupted Seth. “He’s a friend of yours now, is he?”

A gulp. “Yes Milord.”

“A good friend?”

“Yes.”

“A close friend?”

A long pause. “Yes.”

Seth shrugged and laughed . “Probably true then. And you think I ought to go and rescue her, damsel in distress, and all that sort of thing.”

“Yes, Milord.”

“You do realize,” continued Seth, warming to the topic. “Since both the Earl and Commander Bourdon are rather busy attempting to ensure that Brionne is not burned to the ground, that it’s rather unlikely either of them will have the time to toddle out to the Mission on the basis of rumor and…” Seth’s lips quirked. “Pillow talk.”

Surprisingly, Marc did not quail. “Not them, Milord. Just you.”

Seth nodded. “Which brings me to my next point. You also understand that if I were to go there on my own, ‘just me’, as you say, that I would be breaking my own probation, and that upon my inevitable discovery and recapture I would undoubtedly either be killed outright or tossed unceremoniously in a deep dank cell somewhere horrible. Sans servants.” he added as an afterthought.

“Possibly, yes, Milord.”

The Chaos Lord gave Marc a mirthless smile. “Then why would you think I am going anywhere at all?”

The rotund servant’s jowls quivered, but he spoke without hesitation. “Milord does not have a choice.”

A deadly silence fell over the room. “You’re going to force me then?”

“If I have to, Milord.”

Seth’s body dropped into a fighting stance. “I wouldn’t have thought this to be your style, Marc.”

Marc blanched and raised his hands, palms out. “Milord misunderstands. You will go to the Mission, as you has no choice but to do so.” The servant stepped back through the door into the hallway and dragged a large, obviously heavy chest into the room. He then turned and faced the Chaos Lord.

“Milord, when I was told about the men and their plans, I thought you might be somewhat… ambivalent… about going. So I rushed to Commandant Bourdon’s chateau, and told the guard I was under orders from the Commandant to collect your weapons and armor and bring them to the Keep.”

Seth relaxed and let out a low whistle. “Marc, you’ve just hung yourself. When they find out, Bourdon will personally put the noose around your neck.”

The servant was strangely calm. “Perhaps. Or perhaps when they hear how you threatened me and my parents, forced me to lie and steal your equipment back so that you might escape during the rioting.”

“What? I never…”

“Yes you did. They’ll know you did because they know I’d never do something like this on my own.” Marc’s face hardened. “I don’t have the spine for it.”

Seth sat back down and carefully scrutinized the situation. “You’d have me killed and risk your own neck as well, just to get me to ride off to rescue Simone?”

“The Lady Simone.” corrected Marc.

“Whatever. Why? Why all this? Because she didn’t tell about…”

“No!” Tears welled up in Marc’s eyes, and he was nearly shouting. “Maybe you don’t know what it’s like to have people pity you your whole life. To be fat and weak and… sensitive to things. To be laughed at. The Lady Simone never laughed at me, never pitied me, never looked at me like I was some big bug. She treats me with the same respect and dignity she treats everyone else. You want to know if saving someone like that is worth my life?”

“Marc, Marc.” soothed Seth. “You’re overwrought. Just calm down and take a look at how this…”

Seth didn’t have a chance to continue. Marc heaved across the room like an avalanche, smashing Seth backward and pinning him to the wall. “You. Are going. To save her.” he hissed though clenched teeth. “She went to your bed! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you have any idea what that meant to her? She lov…”

Another soft knock came from the door, and without waiting for a response, Lise and Madelynne entered the room. They looked distraught as they entered, and upon seeing Marc and Seth apparently near to blows, they practically froze in panic.

The Chaos Warrior broke the silence, but did not take his eyes from Marc. “Ladies. Your timing is impeccable. I assume your mission was something less than successful?”

Lise was nearly crying. “Milord, we went to the chateau as you bids us, but your armor and weapons had already been taken. The guards seemed to think we were part of a larger group transferring your things to the Keep. We agreed with him, and took a few trinkets to avoid looking suspicious, but it was all gone when we got there.” Her sobs overcame her.

“Lise has a new friend as well.” Seth whispered to Marc. “Who apparently frequents the same taverns as your Samuel. Presumably he came and told her about the men going to the Mission while your friend was telling you. However, rather than simply seizing the initiative as you did, she came to me.”

“You… you were planning to go all along?” Marc’s voice cracked on the last word. “Then why…?”

Seth gently pushed the large man away so that he might walk to the chest and throw it open. His armor gleamed dully, black and lifeless. “Thank you ladies.” he said. “Apparently Marc had a slight head-start, and managed to get there ahead of you. Not to worry, all is well.”

He ushered them, still mostly in shock, to the door. Then he turned to Marc, who had not moved. “Marc, you look almost disappointed.”

The servant fumbled for words. “You… Why? You could have…I nearly…” Seth shrugged. “Marc, you planned and executed everything perfectly: fooling the guard, getting the gear, hauling it back, facing me down, even manhandling me to get your way. You were wonderful. Why would I interrupt you in the middle of the most magnificent coup of your life? And not even the risk to your life and career gave you a moment of pause. Except for the lying, theft, and blackmail parts, it’s just like out of a Bretonnian fairytale, isn’t it?”

Marc had recovered, and an ugly red flush covered his face again. “You used me.” he said flatly.

Seth shook his head, and then began removing pieces of armor from the chest. “No Marc, I did not. In point of fact, you were trying very hard to use me. Not that I hold it against you. In battle you use whatever sword you find hanging from your belt. I just happened to be a little better informed about my plan of action.”

“And you let me say those things, make a fool of myself, even though you’d already decided to go?”

Seth stood, head tilted. “You’ve learned a valuable lesson today, Marc. One that costs many men their lives: Never assume your adversary is going to do what you expect or want. Now, lesson learned, don’t go screwing it up by being outraged. You put yourself in this position with no help from me. You were committed from the moment you lied to Bourdon’s guards.”

“It was all a stage play for your amusement.”

Seth tsked, beginning to get genuinely annoyed. “Marc, you just did the bravest, craziest, most foolhardy, most glorious and daring thing you’ve ever done in your life. You want me to tell you it wasn’t necessary to achieve the end you sought? That you really didn’t have to risk your life or stand up to me? Fine. Congratulations, Marc. You wasted your time this afternoon. Completely pointless.” He paused. “Feel better now? But before you decide to start resenting all of your worthless actions today, remember this: Brave and worthwhile actions do not spring out of necessity. It’s when you make a choice that your actions have real worth, not when you're forced. You made a choice, Marc. To save the girl, even if it cost you everything. You were the gallant Bretonnian knight today, smiting evil and binding it to your will. You think it would have been better to have done nothing, to save yourself the embarrassment of having put your ass on the line for something that turned out to be already settled? Fine. Think what you want. I‘ve got a princess to save.”

Seth threw off his robe, picked up a piece of armor, held it to his leg for a moment, then let go to grab the plate for his other leg. He looked over at Marc, who still stood unmoving by the wall. “Well, you could help, you know? The back plates are tricky to position without help.”

Slowly Marc shook his head, and then stepped forward to help Seth get his armored boots on.