What good was it to send out letters that would never make it to their destination?

No, if Sir Emeric wanted the Church to know what Melcher Fitz was doing, he'd have to ride our himself and inform the nearest Bishop, who, in turn, could inform the rest of the Church. To save an imprisoned saint, one held captive by someone who was supposed to be working for the Church, the Pope would surely send an army.

So, Sir Emeric set out in the early morning, armed and armored, riding his horse at a full gallop.

Curse Melcher Fitz! The man is a maniac... His damnable pride will cost us everything!

Sir Emeric slowed his horse to a canter, knowing the poor girl couldn't handle a gallop for too long. He'd learned long ago to never exhaust his horse, lest she become unreliable when he found himself in real danger.

The road leading through the forest was long and winding. Birds chirped in the trees above, and Sir Emeric could hear a stream running nearby. A gentle reminder that God provides if one knows where to look.

As he rode through the calm forest, Sir Emeric suddenly wished he'd brought someone else with him. Maybe one of the other Templars, or one of St. Giradin's followers. He didn't know any of them particularly well, but at least he would have had someone to talk to.

The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew his attention. The riders were still a long ways off, but maybe they would allow Sir Emeric to ride with them. He pulled his horse's reins and slowed her down to a trot, allowing the strangers the opportunity to catch up. His neck craned to see if he could catch sight of the other riders on the road.

Two riders cantered into view, both wore plague doctor uniforms and carried crossbows. The moment they saw Sir Emeric, they spurred their horses into a gallop toward him and started to take aim at him.

They're here to kill me?

Sir Emeric spurred his own horse into a gallop down the road, away from his pursuers.

A crossbow bolt zipped past him.

The trees rushed by on either side, becoming a blur as he drove his horse to gallop faster.

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Melcher Fitz sent men to kill me?

Another bolt zipped past Sir Emeric, this one a little closer.

Sir Emeric weighed his options. He could keep following the road and hope that his horse was faster than theirs, but given how hard he'd driven her when he left the monastery not long ago it seemed unlikely she'd last long enough to lose them.

He could get off the road and potentially lose them in the woods, but any number of low-hanging branches could unseat him, and he'd be vulnerable to his attackers.

A crossbow bolt bounced off his shoulder pauldron, and Sir Emeric had his answer. He led the horse off the road, and she galloped through the woods, jumping over gnarled roots and fallen logs.

I'll buy you a whole bushel of apples for this, girl.

The plague doctors followed, their hoofbeats drawing closer with every passing moment.

Sir Emeric ducked under low branches when he could, and broke through those he could not avoid. He drew his sword, hacking at the limbs in his way, cutting a path through the woods.

Zip. Thunk!

A sharp pain in his back, just under his shoulder blade.

A crossbow bolt had pierced through his chain-mail, sending agony shooting through his nerves. Sir Emeric lost his balance and fell from the saddle. He twisted his body just before he hit the ground, ensuring that the forest floor would not shove the bolt further into his body.

His right shoulder hit the ground hard, and a cry of pain escaped his lips.

"We got him!"

The sound of two more crossbow bolts released.

Sir Emeric braced himself to meet Eternal Judgment.

But the cries of pain he heard were no longer his own. The two horses his pursuers had been riding galloped past him. He looked up and saw the two plague doctors on the ground, with bolts sticking out of their backs.

Two more plague doctors rode up, their faces concealed behind those terrible masks. Each held a crossbow in his hand as they arrived at the spot on horseback.

One of the two plague doctors who'd saved Sir Emeric dismounted from his horse and drew a mace from the saddle. He approached the two wounded Crows on the ground. "Dumbshits..." he muttered, just before cracking both their skulls with his mace.

"Fulk?" Sir Emeric called.

"Aye," said the Crow armed with a mace.

"And Shlomo too," said the Crow who'd not yet dismounted.

Sir Emeric forced himself to his feet, groaning as the bolt's tip dug into his muscles. "You came to save me?"

Shlomo's horse trotted a little closer, and though Sir Emeric could not see him smile he could hear it in his voice. "Why not? Giradin's rather fond of you."

Sir Emeric's cheeks burned at Shlomo's words.

"Besides," said Fulk, "Anyone can see Fitz's lost his mind. One of our own... Mu was murdered right there. Right fucking there! And all Fitz can think to do is torture people til someone confesses. He doesn't care who actually did it, he just wants to make his subordinates think he can protect them again. Which he can't. Bastard's a worse leader than me!"

"Where are you headed?" Shlomo asked. "We'll make sure you arrive."

"I need to speak to Bishop Galien," Sir Emeric said. "He can get the word out to everyone else who needs to know."

"Then we'll make sure you arrive at his castle safely." Shlomo dismounted from his horse. "Come here. Let's have a look at that wound."