The newcomer was tall, taller than my cloakless young officer by half a head. He was between me and the torches, and I could not see him well against the flame. The flares swam still, blurred and dazzling; my head hurt, and the cold had sprung back at me like a toothed beast. All I saw was the tall shadowy figure watching me, dark eyes in an expressionless face.

I took a breath like a gasp. “It was you! You saw me, didn’t you? I was coming to help you, only I tripped and fell. I wasn’t running away—tell him that, please, my lord. I did mean to put the cloak back before he came for it. Please tell him what happened”

“What are you talking about? Tell him what?”

I blinked against the glare of the torches. “About what happened just now. It was—it was you who killed the bull?”

“Who what?”

It had been quiet before, but now there was silence, complete except for the men’s breathing as they crowded round, and the fidgeting of the horses.

The young officer said sharply: “What bull?”

“The white bull,” I said. “He cut its throat, and the blood splashed out like a spring. That was how I got your cloak dirty. I was trying—”

“How the hell did you know about the bull? Where were you? Who’s been talking?”

“Nobody,” I said, surprised. “I saw it all. Is it so secret? I thought I must be dreaming at first, I was sleepy after the bread and wine—”

“By the Light!” It was the young officer still, but now the others were exclaiming with him, their anger breaking round me. “Kill him, and have done” . . . “He’s lying” . . . “Lying to save his wretched skin” . . . “He must have been spying . . .”

The tall man had not spoken. Nor had he taken his eyes off me. From somewhere, anger poured into me, and I said hotly, straight to him: “I’m not a spy, or a thief! I’m tired of this! What was I to do, freeze to death to save the life of a horse?” The man behind me laid a hand on my arm, but I shook him off with a gesture that my grandfather himself might have used. “Nor am I a beggar, my lord. I’m a free man come to take service with Ambrosius, if he’ll have me. That’s what I came here for, from my own country, and it was . . . it was an accident that I lost my clothes. I—I may be young, but I have certain knowledge that is valuable, and I speak five languages . . .” My voice faltered. Someone had made a stifled sound like a laugh. I set my chattering teeth and added, royally: “I beg you merely to give me shelter now, my lord, and tell me where I may seek him out in the morning.”