The Red Cross Of Gold I:. The Knight Of Death - Plot & Excerpts
The Knight of Death @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } Chapter Three of Twelve O God, thou knowest my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from thee. Mark Andrew Ramsay awoke thankfully enough knowing who he was, but unappreciative of the one errant ray of sunshine, which had found a home directly in his eyes. When he tried to move, pain radiated from a spot on the top of his head. Voices… subdued, angry voices had awakened him from a nightmare wherein he was starving in a dark place made of stone, dank, oppressive. He had been chasing rats with his dagger. Fortunately, he hadn't caught any of them. A distinctive relief since he knew that he was planning to eat one of them. The dream’s disturbing horror faded gradually, but as his vision cleared, he was dismayed to find that he was, once again tied in a very bad position. He could see that his wrists were rather sloppily bound with tasseled satin ropes. At least he could remember where he was and why his head was hurting, though he could not imagine when or how he might have allowed himself to be tied to Merry’s bedposts.
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