King of the Middle March by Kevin Crossley-Holland Page A

letter from Winnie.
    Or rather, he left the letter with Lord Stephen before he and Serle rode out of camp to have a proper look at Saint Nicholas. He’s already impatient at the delay in launching the crusade, and keeps grumbling.
    As I unrolled Winnie’s letter, I began to tremble.
Winnie to Arthur this fifth day of June
    To my betrothed
    It is five weeks since you gave me my ring but it seems more like five months, and Sir William says it will be at least ten weeks longer before he hands you this letter.
    A singer came to Verdon. He sang:
“God, help the pilgrim!
I tremble for him
For the Saracens are treacherous.”
    I am not in the least content that you will be away for two years, or worse.
    When Sir William rode over to talk to my father again about terms for our marriage, he brought Tom with him, and we went hunting with my father’s hawks. My father says Sir William is very difficult and bad-tempered. He says now we can’t settle all the terms until Sir William comes home from the crusade.
    It has taken me all morning to write this letter.
    My mother sends you une fleur de souvenance —and so do I.
    Hurry up!
    I do not know whether any saints protect crusaders against the Saracens, but may Saint Boniface save you from Germans and Flemings, and Saint Clotilda save you from the murderous French. Do you think about me?
    BY YOUR LOVING AND IMPATIENT WINNIE
    When Sir William returned, I told him I had read Winnie’s letter, and he sniffed loudly.
    â€œSir Walter may seem like a decent man, but he’s a devil. If he doesn’t agree to my terms, he can stick his sweet daughter in a nunnery.”
    â€œWe’re betrothed, sir,” I said.
    â€œI told you,” Sir William barked, “I only agreed to your betrothal because you were going on this bloody crusade. But thatdoesn’t mean you’ll marry her. Not unless Sir Walter and I agree to terms.”
    â€œI love her, sir.”
    Sir William snorted. “Quite frankly, it would be better if you married Sian.”
    â€œSian!” I yelped. “She’s my sister.”
    â€œYour cousin!”
    â€œWell, my foster sister.”
    â€œDon’t argue with me!” Sir William said. He rubbed his blind eye. “Love her! What do you know about love?”
    I looked at the ground. I thought of my mother.
    â€œNow then!” said Sir William. “Are you ready?”
    â€œWhat for, sir?”
    â€œWhat do you think?” Sir William bellowed. “The crusade! If we’re not on our way soon, the French will fry the Flemings or the Germans will juice the Italians. Mark my words! There are squabbles and fistfights all the way down the island.”
    â€œThe Marquis de Montferrat still hasn’t arrived, sir,” I said.
    â€œI know that,” Sir William replied.
    â€œAnd Lord Stephen says we can’t pay the Venetians. We haven’t got anything like eighty-five thousand marks.”
    â€œThe Venetians will make a deal,” my father said. “They’ll have to.”
    â€œThey sent reminders to Lord Stephen and Milon,” I said. “Nasty ones.”
    â€œMilon,” Sir William said. “I’ve met this Milon at last. Good man. Strong as a mule.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHe says I’ve arrived just in time.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œHe’s knighting you next Friday.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œYou didn’t even tell me.”
    â€œI was going to, sir.”
    â€œAnd you a knight before Tom!”
    â€œI wish he were here, sir.”
    â€œI’m glad he’s not,” Sir William barked. “Tom’s exactly where he should be. But you, Arthur, you’re glad I’ve arrived in time to see you dubbed a knight. Aren’t you?”

20
THE GREATEST NAME OF ANY KNIGHT
    M Y STONE .
    â€œFrom this moment, here on Tumber Hill, until the day you die, you will never own anything as precious as this.”