uke Sorley has returned.  Yesterday the castle was warned of his arrival, and many of us were waiting in the yard or the road outside.  I caught a glimpse of a pallid face and many bandages before Fina and Lady Reiling, his cousins, clambered ungracefully into the cart.  Karl, the captain of his castle guard, was riding at the side of the cart, whistling.

And, I am relieved, Breck was one of the other men who accompanied the Duke out of the field.  When he saw me, he grinned and rapped the side of his helm.  He always does this when he sees me, for a helm I made once saved his life.  Alan was not with them, so he must have remained with the other men and knights.

In the evening, Breck, Ivar, and I drank the Duke’s health at the Shrine.  He—that is, Breck—says the Duke was caught in the side by a heavy spear.  He lost much blood, but the entrails were not pierced (my courage betrays me as I think this, and I feel my head grow light), and it is hoped that he will recover in time, if the battle-fevers do not set in.

Although one friend is forever gone to me this summer, I am glad to have another friend to drink with at the trestleboards.  Almost have I forgotten my desire to leave Cannaghdown.  As I think of my friends, I wonder that I still have not seen the Lady Dalla in many days.  How will the Duke’s return affect her?

organ rode in yesterday, looking almost as tired as he did when first I met him.  The news from the Free Towns is very grim.  Elven raiders have already landed on the coast.  A few small hamlets were burned, and many prisoners were carried off in their boats.

But such raids are often feints to test our defense and to draw aside men.  Northanby clamors for the king’s aid, but perhaps the strongest blow will fall instead on Fogreach or Irongate, or even one of the other provinces.

The Duke and his men were to leave in two days for the Moot, the gathering of swords and spears each summer under the king’s banner.  But this raid was made earlier than ever before, and the armies are not yet prepared.

Morgan and the Duke rode out last night, to call the Duke’s knights together.  The men-at-arms, without horses to carry them as swiftly to the coast, were left to follow early this morning.  A gloomy sky grudged but a few spatters of rain as they marched out of the castle.   I think it likely they will see a fight.  Indeed, for the sake of the Free Towns, which pay heavy taxes to the king, I must wish it—but I also do not wish my friends to risk their lives in battle.

I watched them go, but did not cheer them, as some of the men and a few of the ladies did.  My friends and I spoke our farewells last night, over dark and foamy jugs at the Shrine.  Alan and Breck have gone, and I hope that I will see them again.  Am I to lose my master and most of my friends in one summer?  I slept fitfully, but it is counted ill-luck to speak of evil and portentous dreams.

he hunt has returned, the Duke leading a procession of knights, servants, horse and dogs.  Four of the men carried the dragon’s carcass, its metal scales almost bronze in the sunlight.  It almost seemed like it was peacefully sleeping.  Men and women alike cheered from the windows over the west wall.

The beast, twice the length of a man, has been laid on some trestle-boards in the upper yard, and the entire castle has crowded round.  It has been years since the hunt actually returned with its quarry, and I think dragons have long since fled deeper and higher into the mountains.

The Duke himself came by to thank me for making the hooks.  I could see that he was not injured (as some have said to me), but some of his long hair was singed away.

What things men call sport.

he Duke’s birth-feast was last night. Common people and the slaves do not celebrate such things, or if we do, we share a meal with a few family and friends. But nobility must obey other rules, and so they celebrate lavishly.

I know the Duke, and he is not a vain man. He may laugh at the jugglers and linger over a savoury, but he wishes health and cheer to others—his family, his servants, his friends.

I was invited by the Castellan to share the meal at one of the long tables in the great hall. I sat on a stool at the very end of almost the farthest table from the great fire. Ivar was across from me, and all evening we toasted the King, the Duke, the Duke’s beer, and especially, Cook.