He fumbled as he tried to open it, for the silk was stiff with blood. Kelson reached across and took the other edge, and together they unfolded what was obviously part of a battle pennon. In the center of the silk was a leaping black hart on a white circle. The rest of the banner, where it was not caked with mud and gore, was a brilliant, flaming orange-red.

Kelson whistled low under his breath and released the silk, unconsciously wiping his palms against his thighs in distaste. There was no need for further words, for all knew the leaping hart badge of Torenth and what its presence on the bloody standard suggested. In shocked silence, Kelson turned his eyes on the pale face of the unconscious page. Conall returned with the wine, to observe as Morgan took the cup and held it to the boy’s lips. The boy whimpered as his head was lifted slightly and supported against Morgan’s left arm.

“All right, let’s drink up here, young fellow,” Morgan murmured, tipping the cup to let a little of the wine trickle between the boy’s teeth.

The boy moaned and tried to turn his head away, but Morgan was relentless.

“No, drink some more. That’s a good lad. Now, open your eyes and try to tell us what happened. His Majesty is waiting.”

With a suppressed sob, the boy forced his eyes open and squinted up at Morgan, at the face of Kelson opposite, at Duncan peering down from above, then closed his eyes momentarily and bit at his lip. Morgan gave the goblet back to Conall and laid a gentle hand on the boy’s forehead.

“It’s all right, son. Tell us what happened, and then you can rest.”

The boy swallowed and wet his lips before opening his eyes again, then fixed his gaze on Kelson, as though it were only the royal presence that kept body and soul together. It was obvious even to those totally without medical training that he was on the verge of passing out again.

“Sire,” he began weakly, “we are undone. Terrible battle…traitor in our midst…Duke Jared’s army, all…gone….”

His eyes rolled upward and his voice trailed off as he lapsed into unconsciousness again, and Morgan anxiously felt for a pulse. His expression was grim as he looked up at Kelson.

“He doesn’t appear to have any major injuries—a few cuts and bruises, despite the bloody clothes. But he’s too exhausted to bring around again. Maybe in a few hours…”

His voice trailed off expectantly as he gazed across at the king, and Kelson shook his head.

“It’s no good, Alaric. We can’t wait that long. A battle, a traitor in their midst, Duke Jared’s army ‘gone’…We’ve got to find out what happened.”

“If I force him back to consciousness, it could kill him.”

“Then we’ll have to take that risk.”

Morgan’s eyes flicked to the boy’s face, then back to Kelson’s. “Let me try another way, my prince. It is not without its own risks, but…”