The room where he lodged was up a creaking wooden staircase. The door had a bolt, and he wondered whether to add a second one. But he decided there was no point. A couple of determined men could break it down anyway. There was a heavy oak chest, however. He could drag it over to the door. If he laid his mattress beside the chest, he’d be sure to wake up instantly as soon as anyone tried to break in.

The window worried him. It was only ten feet above the street. But it was narrow and the shutters were stout. He might be able to defend it.

As for a weapon, he did have a dagger. He wished he had a sword, but a student couldn’t walk around the streets with that. The dagger was long and made to be used in battle. It had belonged to his grandfather. He tested the blade. It was sharp. Even if several men battered down the door, he ought to be able to kill one of them, maybe two.

He stayed indoors until evening, ate his food, set up his barricade and prepared for the dangerous night.

But he couldn’t sleep. Each creak he heard made him start. Around midnight something outside, a rat probably, disturbed a little pile of faggots, one of which fell with a soft click on the cobbles. In a flash, Roland was up, waiting beside the window, dagger in hand, not daring to signal his presence by opening the shutters but straining every nerve to hear if anyone was in the street, or coming up the stairs. He stayed there almost half an hour before lying down again, still listening.

And as he listened, thoughts chased through his head. Why had he gotten involved with Martine? If only he’d been chaste. If only he’d been a Temple Knight. And what should he do? Could he return home? How would he explain it to his father? His family would be furious. He was supposed to be helping them and he’d let them all down. He dreaded the thought of facing them almost as much as he dreaded mutilation.

The hours passed. He didn’t even doze. At dawn, he started violently again, as someone threw slops from a window down into the street. And by the time the city gates were opening, and people were moving about in the streets, he staggered down the stairs, hollow-eyed, to face the day.