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?