Tonight, he woke with a start just as he blocked an opposing knight’s sword, which had been aimed at his head. It was a relief to wake, but as Hywel lay in bed, breathing quietly to himself in the dark, he realized that it hadn’t been his imminent demise that had woken him, but something else: a noise. He heard it again, the scrape of a shoe in the corridor and then the creak of wood. The room in which Hywel lay with Cadell and Cadifor wasn’t completely dark, as they hadn’t closed the shutters against the cold night air, and the nearly full moon made a square of light on the floor as it shown through the open window. As he listened, hardly daring to breathe, Hywel felt motion to his right and was in no way surprised to see Cadifor already crouched beside his pallet on the floor. Hywel had never been able to put anything over on his foster father, who seemed to sleep with one eye open. Cadifor gestured with one finger, a quick slash to the left, to indicate that he should wake Cadell, with whom Hywel was sharing the bed.
