Betrayed by Christopher Dinsdale

caught a glimpse into a final room to his right. The small room held only three men. With beards as longas their flowing robes, Connor suddenly realized he had seen those men before in the halls of Roslin. These were men who possessed the magical powers of reading, writing and mathematics. The long table in front of the men was covered in an assortment of models, maps, diagrams and toy-like contraptions. Connor could tell they were having a heated discussion about one of the maps, but the group moved on before his curiosity could determine the point of the debate.
    The knights then burst out into the misty air of the outer bailey. Ignoring the grazing chickens and goats, they crossed the wide grassy area and approached the formidable keep that stood watch over the troubled sea. Through an impressively high arch, the men entered the tallest building of the fortress. Connor gaped in wonder as the cavernous rectangular Great Hall opened up before them. Prince Henry led them to the centre of the immense room. A series of parallel tables lay before them, and Connor froze in awe. Laid out like a gift from heaven was a feast worthy of a king. He had never seen so much food in one place in his entire life! A raucous gathering of seated knights were already enjoying the spread as servants brought out wooden platters of roasted pig.
    Prince Henry turned to face the travellers. “I suggest you join in the feast before the rest of the castle arrives. This is for you, a special meal for my friends from distant lands! Enjoy the food, for once the festivities end, we will have much to do.”
    Connor stared at the men, who did not hesitate to sit at the nearest opening on the benches and tear into the feast before them. Angus, noticing an empty bench at the end of the table, turned and waved Connor over.
    â€œCome on, Connor! We’re brothers now. Sit down!”
    Connor reluctantly made his way to the table and sat down beside Angus. “I think this will take some getting used to.”
    Eyes wide, he filled his plate with succulent pork as the hall quickly filled to capacity. Washing it down with a warming mouthful of wine, Connor felt a wave of warmth he had not experienced since his mother had passed away. He looked down the table, where seasoned warriors were bellowing with laughter and shouting insults. Connor couldn’t help feel that he was now part of a very special group.
    After their stomachs were stuffed to aching, the boys staggered away from the table and approached Sir Rudyard, who was in discussion, ale in hand, with three other knights. Seeing the boys, he introduced them to the group.
    â€œGentlemen, here is my son, Angus, and his friend, Connor. Boys, this is Sir Andre de Boullion of Normandy, and to my right, we have Nicolo Auzurra and Tomasso Iacoe of Venice.”
    The boys shook hands with the beefy warriors.
    â€œIt is a pleasure to meet you,” said de Boullion in a melodic French accent.
    â€œAnd if you have the blood of your father in your heart, then you will surely become an honourable warrior,” said Iacoe to Angus.
    â€œRudyard,” interjected Auzurra. “when your boys have time, you should send them out to me, and I will show them the latest additions to Prince Henry’s arsenal.”
    Sir Rudyard nodded. “Thank you, Nicolo. I’m sure they will find your designs quite intriguing. But first, I need to give them a tour of the castle.”
    The men parted ways, and Sir Rudyard walked the boys across the hall. “Why are you here, boys?”
    Taken aback by the question, Connor and Angus hesitated.
    â€œConnor?”
    â€œI can’t speak for Angus, but I’m here to fight for Prince Henry. I wouldn’t hesitate to lay down my life for him in battle.”
    Sir Rudyard frowned as they stepped out once again into the fresh air. “Prince Henry appreciates your loyalty, but being a Templar must go beyond following your leader blindly into