February 1102
February 1102Quinn de Sayerne was home.
He sighed with satisfaction as he surveyed the mountains that rose on either side of the familiar valley. Their silhouette was etched in his memory, yet to see them again was a gift.
His party had ridden past the keep of the Lord de Tulley earlier in the day and he had noticed his companions stare in wonder at that fortification. Tulley’s keep perched on the top of the steep hill, commanding the valley in each direction. Quinn had found it impressive as a boy, but now, he saw its strategic advantage and appreciated the expense of its construction. A high and broad wall encircled the base of the hill, with the keep at its summit. The road wound upward from gates to keep, the village perched on the hillsides. Tulley was a marvel, but Q
