Across his path lay a dusty road, and beyond that rose the curtain walls and towers of a large castle. It was not at all what he had expected to see. He looked about him. He was a tall man, and despite his homespun cloak, there was an air of authority about him. A party of beggars were advancing towards him along the road. “Give ye good day, sirrahs!” said the tall man. “What is the name of this place?” “Castle Mailing,” said the leader of the beggars. The lone traveller turned and looked at the castle with renewed interest. The beggars had also halted, and were looking at him. “Are you on the road, like us?” asked their leader. There was a protrusion under the traveller’s cloak behind his right shoulder which betrayed the presence of a sword. The tall man started, and drew the hood of his cloak further forward over his head. The beggar persisted. “If you’re down on your luck, you’re in good company. Why not step along with us awhile? There’s pickings in plenty, for those who can use a sword.”
