Dimly lit faces had gathered in the great hall of lords in the village of Dunbar. They were eating haunches of meat and engulfing flagons of mead when Colborn entered, ignored the rabble, and sat at a private table at the back the room. When they weren’t stuffing their faces, the men were going on about common trade and land disputes. A maid offered him a drink with hesitant, distrustful glances and quickly walked away.

He took the drink, half-expecting her to have tossed the mead in his face. The other night had been passionate but it was one of compulsion. She was a nice girl, thought Colborn, but a little on the heavy side. He scratched his groin and took a long gulp, making sure the other men hadn’t noticed. Being a suitor in a commonwealth of wealthy barons had lowered his status as of late. The desire for companionship had gone out of his heart and the others seemed to feed off of rumors and whispers, whispers that were on their lips even now Read More