Terms are offered.

In the morning Jacinta brought Lady Amelia a hearty breakfast of oats, jams and dried fruits. Amelia picked at it sparingly, her appetite gone with the parley approaching. After trying to eat Jacinta helped her lady back into her brother’s armour in preparation for the meeting due an hour after first light. Dressed Amelia strapped her brother’s sword to her waist and prayed to God she’d never have to use it.

Leaving the keep, Lady Amelia found Sir Rifkin and his chosen knights waiting for her arrival in the lower bailey. She noted with pride that the armour of all three had been cleaned and polished to a fine sheen overnight. That the castles squires and armours would go to such effort overnight during a siege and so soon after defending the walls touched her heart in no small measure. Her brother's armour was as it had been when presented to him. Gilded and of true master craftsman quality, it filled her with pride and resolve that their delegation would go to the parley so well presented.

Welwyn was waiting there too but dressed in the tailored clothes of a noble. That he still refused to done armour in defence of their family’s castle was no surprise to her.

“Dear cousin,” he said as a way of greeting, bowing just ever so slightly in deference to her birthright as next in line to Castle Arrowthorn.

“Welwyn,” Amelia returned with a brief curtsey, something she was not sure she could even do in armour until trying then.

At least Welwyn knew better than to try and stop her in her course of action this morning.

Turning to her protector Sir Rifkin, Lady Amelia strode to the courser that had been made ready for her by the castle’s stablemen. Before she mounted the older knight spoke quietly about what to expect at the parley.

“My lady. The parley will be attended by both Lord Maugh and Duke Blackmuir with perhaps a noble or two in good standing of these Lords. I would expect them to try and goad you with insults and other vulgarities. You cannot let it affect you. Keep your sword in its scabbard no matter what. A weapon draw cancels all protections of parley.”

Amelia was helped onto her bright brown courser by a pair of castle squires, Sir Rifkin and the knights waiting till they were mounted before they too climbed up. The doors to the keep were pulled open and the portcullis was drawn up on its massive black chains. Sir Rifkin rode next to Lady Amelia with the two knights trailing the pair.

Stepping into the tent, Lady Amelia recognised the hated Lord Maugh immediately. She gathered that the other middle-aged noble present must be Duke Blackmuir. With him was a youth perhaps a pair of years older than herself. The family resemblance leading her to believe it must be his son.

Also present were four men at arms. Amelia counting the numbers disadvantage to herself as seven to four.

“Well, it seems the little girl has come down from her castle to play at knights!” Lord Maugh started with a great theatrical laugh that was taken up by the Duke and his son. “Why not scurry back to your castle and put on a pretty dress for us. Give us something to better admire you in,” the lecherous old man jeered.

Amelia burned at his words but wouldn’t let him bully her.

“I’ll take off this armour when you cast off your siege of our home,” Amelia retorted, “you occupation is illegal and must be stopped at once.”

“The King could care less about your castle and your lands girl,” Duke Blackmuir spoke for the first time.

“Then remove your forces from the field and allow us to end this feud that has gone on far too long between our families on our own,” Amelia demanded.

“I’m here on behalf of the Dukes to broker a peace treaty. One that could be sealed with a marriage proposal. I’d gladly withdraw my forces, and convince Lord Maugh to do likewise, were to marry my son.”

A chill finger of ice ran up Amelia’s spine. So here was the why Duke Blackmuir had come. Lord Maugh’s siege was just the noose to convince her to hand over her claim to Castle Arrowthorn by marrying Blackmuir’s heir. It would be a cold day in hell before she gave in to such ****.

“I’d sooner marry my cousin than an enemy at our gates,” she spat.

“You insolent young wench!” The Duke roared at her refusal drawing a dagger at his waist in anger.

At a weapon drawn Rifkin reacted before Lady Amelia could take her next breath. A blur of silver was the knight's sword clearing his own scabbard and taking Duke Blackmuir’s arm off at the elbow. Pandemonium set in instantly as a great arterial spray of blood shot from the stump and caught Amelia straight across the face. The Duke fell back into the arms of his son as the men at arms lept at the Arrowthorn knights. The warrior to Amelia’s left swung an arm across her, shoving her behind him as he retreated backwards from the tent.

“To the castle,” he screamed as they reached the horses, grabbing her without ceremony and casting her up onto the courser. Amelia was barely into the saddle when he slapped the horses flank with his sword and she was hurtling back home.

Watching from the castle walls Jacinta held her breath with fear as she saw her lady rushing from the tent and thrown onto her horse. Lord Maugh could be seen running from the tent toward his own lines as more mounted soldiers started galloping towards the parley tent realising some sort treachery must have occurred. The opposing men were close to the remaining trio of Arrowthorn knights by the time they had exited the tent. Jacinta could make out one of the soldiers supporting another as they rode double back to the castle’s open portcullis. Archers on the castle walls covered their retreat as the enemy troops made the mistake of riding too close to the walls in their pursuit. Several were brought down, half of them not moving as the heavy iron portcullis was dropped into place once the knights were safely inside. The thick oaken doors taking longer to be pushed shut. Jacinta ran from the battlements to her ladies side who was seeing to the injured Sir Rifkin.