In the Hall of the Dragon King by Stephen Lawhead Page A

have been wondering?”
    â€œAsk away; there shall be no secrets between us.”
    â€œWhy is it men call you the Hawk?”
    â€œIt comes from my family’s blazon—the hunting falcon. I am known to the woodsmen and others hereabouts as the Hawk—they make me out to be an outlaw like themselves.” He shrugged. “It suits them and allows me the freedom to go where another name might hinder.” He paused and then added in a lighter tone, “My friends, as always, know me as Theido.”
    â€œAnd those who know the name never want a truer friend.” The voice was the queen’s; she now stood directly behind Quentin. She had awakened to the sound of their voices and had come silently to the table. Durwin, appearing somewhat flustered, hurried to offer the best seat at the table, his own.
    â€œYour Majesty,” he said, bowing from the waist, “I am honored to have you in this humble house.”
    â€œYour kindness is appreciated,” she said, sliding into the offered chair. “But from now on I am only Alinea—I have put off my crown and am no queen until my king returns to claim his throne and so redeems my own. So please, good hermit, make no fuss for my sake.”
    â€œAs you wish, Alinea,” replied Durwin smoothly. He had a gift for meeting people high or low and making them feel honored and welcome in his presence. Quentin had felt it from the first. “Now no more talking until we have all broken fast together.”
    Prince Jaspin stormed red-eyed through the corridors of the ancient castle. He had not slept the night and had just been informed that the queen was abed with an illness and would see no one, nor receive messages. His opportunity to question her was foiled. The foul prince was furious.
    During the night he had sent word to as many of his nobles as were within reach to meet at midday to hear a plan he had been contemplating for some time. His anger at losing his prisoner had caused him to implement this new scheme without further delay.
    He strode into the council chambers, his sharp face flushed with anger and exhaustion. Various knights and nobles, more than a score altogether, stood beneath their banners and standards awaiting his arrival. Many showed signs of having ridden hard and long to get there at the appointed time.
    â€œMy esteemed lords, please be seated. We have much to discuss.” All bowed to him as he waved them to chairs at a long table. He indicated a chair at his right for Sir Bran and one at his left for the brawny Sir Grenett. Nearby sat a noble with sly, narrow eyes and a puckered, pouting mouth, a man of vast holdings and extraordinary wealth who was determined to be the new king’s chief minister. His name was Ontescue, a name not well liked by the helots who worked his lands and bore the brunt of his expensive ambitions.
    â€œMy lord, you are looking ill-possessed this morning. Your sleep was not troubled, I hope.” He had guessed the prince was looking for an opportunity to launch into a retelling of his latest agitation. He wanted to provide a ready ear.
    â€œIt is true; I have had no sleep this night past. But that is a matter for another time.” The prince dismissed his chance to confide his troubles, pressing on to a subject of more immediate import. “Gentlemen all,” he called, “your presence gratifies me. As we all know too well, our kingdom has been for some time without a king, being governed in his absence by the Council of Regents. I have uncovered evidence that certain nobles of that body have been aiding the outlaws in their campaign of robbery and defiance throughout the forests of this land.
    â€œOnly yesterday my men arrested the prince of these outlaws—I had him secured within these walls until he should speak out against those of his band and other outlaw leaders with whom he is intimately acquainted.
    â€œMy aim is to rid the wood and hills of these