In the dark hour before dawn, all the shutters of the great hall were closed against the evil vapours of the night. Under the heavy iron of the curfew, the fire was a quenched dragon's eye. The forms of slumbering knights and retainers lined the walls, and the air sighed with the sound of their breathing and resonated with the occasional glottal snore.
At the far end of the hall, occupying one of the less favoured places near the draughts, and away from the residual gleam of the fire, a young man twitched in his sleep. His brow pleated as the vivid images of his dream took him from the restless darkness of this vast Norman castle to the smaller, intimate chamber of his family's keep at Hamstead......
Lead from a burning church roof had destroyed his father's right eye and melted a raw trail from temple to jaw, leaving him with an angel's visage one side and a gargoyle’s mask of a devil on the other....
"Will I be gone a long time?" his dream self asked in a high treble. "That depends on how long King Stephen wants to keep you." "Why does he want to keep me?" "Because I made him a promise and he wants you beside him until I have kept that promise." His father's voice was as harsh as a sword blade across a whetstone. "You are a hostage for my word of honour".
Excerpt from "The Greatest Knight" by Elizabeth Chadwick. Fortress of Drincourt, Normandy, Summer 1167.
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