WE HAD BARELY CLEARED the forest two mornings later when Geoffrey pointed ahead. There it is.

The town of Treille, glistening through the sun, perched atop a high hilltop.Was Sophie truly here? There was a cluster of ochre-colored buildings knotted on the rise, then, at its peak, the large gray castle, two towers thrust into the sky.

I had been to Treille twice before. Once to settle a claim against a knight who would not pay his bill, and the other with Sophie to go to market.

Geoffrey was right. As we approached the outlying village, I could tell that Treille had changed.

Look how the farmers' fields lie fallow, he said, pointing, while over there, the lord's demesne is neatly planted.

Indeed, I could see how the smaller plots of land sat unworked, while the duchy's fields, bordered by solid stone fences, flourished.

Closer to town, other serious signs of decline were everywhere. A wooden bridge over a stream had so many holes in the boards we could barely pass. Fences were broken and run-down.

I was dumbstruck. I remembered Treille as thriving and prosperous. The largest market in the duchy. A place of celebration on Midsummer's Eve.

We climbed the steep, windy hill that rose toward the castle. The streets stank from waste, the runoff from the castle lining the edges of the road.

The pigs were out. Each morning people got rid of their garbage by tossing it out on the streets. Then pigs were let loose to feed on the waste. Their morning meal was enough to turn my stomach.

At a crow............