All the swordsmen and bowmen bowed their heads, as we walked in. The Baron himself, at the head of the chamber, up on the raised alter, called out, “Aye! Brothers! Welcome. Come! I have called us together at this midnight service to dedicate ourselves. Dedicate, friends! Dedicate and direct ourselves to that proper place, just below Heaven. Is that not so, Master Turlow?”
“I deem ye right, Lord Baron,” Turlow agreed and bowed his thin body, clad only in hose and a leather vest, towards the Baron. Turlow then rose and his eyes surveyed the chamber. I saw that his beady eyes glittered even in the darkness, with a surfeit of ale, the dust of poppies (I gathered), and his own lust, which, I am sure, had not yet been quenched earlier in the evening.
I wondered, then, what dark service would t
