THE REALIZATION SETTLED over the men that the battle was finally over. No more fighting. No more blood.

They looked around, stunned and elated. Those who had lived sought out friends and embraced them. Georges and the Languedocians, Odo and Father Leo, Alphonse and Alois, farmers and Freemasons, jubilant just to be alive.

I led our men back to the castle walls, exhausted, out of fight. But as conquerors!

The same defenders who had pushed aside our attacks now sullenly watched us, arms at rest. Stephen's captured knights were pushed to the front, stripped of their armor, and forced to kneel. A cry rose up. Not a cry of victory but a single, steady voice that grew in power until all joined in.

Submit,submit , they chanted.

Finally, from a parapet above the front gate, Stephen appeared, dressed in a ceremonial purple cloak. He surveyed our ranks contemptuously, as if he could not believe this ragtag rabble had beaten back his troops.

What happens now? I asked Daniel.

You must talk with him. Stephen has to comply or his knights will lose their heads. He is bound by honor.

Go on. Odo pushed me forward. Tell the bastard he can keep his fucking grain. See if there's any ale in there.

I grabbed the lance. Someone hitched up a mount for me.

I'll go with you, Daniel said.

I'll come too, the miller said.

I looked at Stephen. I didn't trust this bastard, no matter how deeply he was bound by honor. I think not. I shook my head. I had someone else in mind.

We brought up Baldwin. He had long been stripped of his fancy clothes and was dressed in a burlap tunic like any common man. His wrists were bound, his haggard face badly in need of a shave.

It is your lucky day, I said, plopping a plumed hat upon his head. If all goes well, you'll soon be back in silk.

You do not need to dress me up. He threw off the hat. You can be sure Stephen will recognize one of his own.

Suit yourself. I nodded solemnly.

We headed forward out of the ranks, Baldwin's mount tethered to mine. Soldiers on the walls watched us silently approach.

We stopped, out of arrow-shot, forty yards from the wall. Stephen gazed down, barely acknowledging me, as if he had been called away from a meal.

Black Cross is dead, I announced. The fate of your best knights, what's left of them, awaits your word. We have no more urge f............