The truth. Russia

?I am from a city called Kiev. Have you heard of it?? You?re pretty sure it was well known back then. ?It?s near Russia.?

The knight looks at you blankly for a second. ?Ah!? he says, surprised. ?I have heard of thine homeland. But my, that is many many days away. How did thou manage to travel so far.?

You try not look at the knight, as you nervously try to make up a plausible excuse. Relatives? That seems far-fetched. Graciously, he breaks your silence before you have a chance to lie. ?I guess ?tis none of my concern,? he says. ?But may I ask if thou are Jewish??

He seems to appreciate the truth, so you tell him that you are. ?I thank thee being honest with me. I find that very honorable, so I will tell thee this. King Edward recently passed an edict expelling all Jews from England. He has even executed some already, and there is no telling what he would do if he found out about thee. I am not a sympathizer, but I do not believe in throwing thee into the lion?s den. When we reach town, I will let you off and tell thee where you can find help.?

You?re barely able to sputter a thank you, still reeling from the information he?s bestowed upon you. England? King Edward? Unless this is a dream, you have to find out some more answers. Fast. ?I still seem to be out of sorts from my trek out here,? you say innocently. ?Do you by chance know the date today??

The knight laughs. ?Calendars are for squires and academia. But I can tell we are in the spring. The year twelve and ninety, to be exact, in case thy mind has forgotten that as well.? He laughs again.

Trying your damndest not to freak out, you take a few deep breaths and close your eyes again. Inwardly, you repeat to yourself that this is not reality, but when you open your eyes again, you?re still on a horse and you?re still holding onto a knight. He says little more to enlighten you as to your predicament, but figure if he?s telling you the truth, he?ll lead you to more answers. ?I will be participating in a jousting tournament tomorrow morning,? he says. ?Thou wouldst enjoy watching me if only thy were able. I have never lost a match.?

?Oh,? is all you can reply, too wrapped up in your own thoughts to carry conversation. After what seems like hours, but is probably more like sixty minutes, you approach the outskirts of town. Two burly looking guards convene as you approach a gate.

?Good evening, Sir Dyer,? says one of the guards. Your knight has a name, now. ?I see thou hast brought a visitor. Who is she and what are thee bringing her here for.?

The knight talks down to the man with an air of confidence, as well as a bit of condescension. ?Neither her name or her matters with me should concern thee. Let us pass.?

?Is she a spy?? says the other guards.

?You coxcomb! I am loyal to the crown. She is simply a guest of mine.?

The guard becomes angrier. ?Thou knowest thy king hast no quarrel with anyone seeking a strumpet outside the city, but they are not allowed in here. Unless she is thine cousin or has official business here, I will have to report thee to the king.?

As if your day could get any worse. From what Sir Dyer told you, a meeting with the king would be a very bad idea in the world. You see the knight hesitate with his choice of words, which you can sense really displeases the guards. However, they seem more concerned with him than with yourself. If you?re going to make a move, now?s the time.