Mydwyn stood next to one of his fallen foes with blood dripping from the spear head and down the shaft. Humphrey noted in the sunlight that the upper third of his shaft was stained dark, no doubt from many such actions of blood soaking into the wood.

“Many thanks for coming to our aid, friend Mydwyn,” Humphrey said. The young spearman merely smiled and nodded his head. “How is it you were so close when our need was so great?”

Mydwyn shrugged his shoulders. “I was merely in the area, Sir Knight,” he said.

“How fortunate for us, then,” Humphrey said with a grim smile, and offered him the bloody rag to wipe off his spear. Mydwyn took the cloth from him and gave a slight bow. “Care you to share what is left of our break fast?” Humphrey asked.

He smiled again. “I would nae decline such an offer,” he said.

“Master Innkeeper,” Humphrey called. “Fill a cup with your tasty soup for our new friend.”

“Aye, Sir Knight,” Barker said, “and there may be a few bites of the bird left, as well.”

“Good.” Humphrey sheathed his sword and waved an arm toward the camp. “Enter in peace and as a friend, good Mydwyn,” he said.

“My thanks, Sir Knight,” he said and moved forward.

To Be Continued...