Baron Arald shoved the heavy parchment scroll to one side and looked up at Lady Pauline in exasperation.

"Pauline, do you understand what this idiot is getting at?" he asked. The head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Corps nodded.

"In principle, I do, my lord," she said. Arald made a frustrated gesture.

"Then in principle, please explain it to me," he said, adding in an undertone, "as if I don't have enough on my plate planning for war without this sort of nonsense."

Lady Pauline suppressed a smile. Arald had a well-known dislike of legal documents with their where-ifs, where-to-fore's and not-with-standing's.

"Sir Montaque of Cobram Keep is obliged to supply a draft of four knights and thirty men-at-arms when called upon," she began.

"And I take it he is refusing to do so?" said the Baron wearily.

"Not exactly, sir," she replied. "He is willing to supply the men. He is unwilling to place them, or himself, under your command."

Arald frowned. There was no trace of his customary good humour evident at that statement.

"But he is under my command," he said. "Cobram Keep is within the boundaries of Redmont Fief and I am his lord. And commander."

Pauline nodded in agreement. "Correct, my lord. But he does have a case. A very tenuous one, I must say, but a case nonetheless."

Arald's face, already flushed with annoyance, became a little redder. "How can he have a case?" he demanded. "His castle is within my boundaries. I am the Lord of Redmont Fief. He is my tenant. I am his commander. End of the story. Ipso facto. Case-o, closed-o."

"As he sees it, my Lord, the whole thing hinges on a treaty signed by his great-great-grand uncle and the present King's great-great-grandfather, when Cobram Keep became part of the Kingdom of Araluen – and the Fief of Redmont. At that time, Cobram Keep was allowed to retain a certain level of independence."

"That's ridiculous! You can't run a kingdom like that! What was Duncan's great-great-whatever-he-was thinking?"

"It was a gesture only, my lord. They said independence would apply only to certain matters of civil administration – the right to perform and register marriages, for example – not military matters."

"Well then!" Arald exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "If that's the case, where is the problem?"

"The intent is obvious, my lord, in context. But this treaty was drawn up by lawyers, so there is a certain ambiguity in the wording."

"Ambiguity is always certain when lawyers are involved," Arald said. His face brightened. He rather liked that piece of wordplay. It struck him as quite droll. He looked hopefully for a smile from Lady Pauline, but in vain. Deciding she must have missed it, he began again.

"You see, you said 'a certain ambiguity' and I said, 'Ambiguity is always certain when'-"

"Yes, yes, my lord. Quite so," Pauline said, cutting him off. Arald looked disappointed. She continued: "Nigel and I have gone through the treaty, and the letter, and Nigel has drafted a reply. He has found seventeen points of law where Montague has grossly misrepresented the intent of the treaty. In short, he has destroyed Montague's case most comprehensively."

"He is good at that," Arald said, smiling once again. This time, Pauline smiled with him.

"None better, my lord," she said.

"So what's our next move?" the Baron asked. Pauline proffered the letter she had mentioned, but he waved it away. If Nigel and Pauline were happy with it, he knew it would be watertight. Pauline nodded. She appreciated the trust he had placed in her.

"Very well, my lord. We'll do a final draft and I thought I might have one of my students deliver it."
She replaced the draft letter in a thin, leather folder, and withdraws another document, laying it on the table in front of her and smoothing it out so that it lay flat.

"Now, my lord, there is another matter we must discuss..."

She saw the pained expression on the Baron's face. She knew he didn't want to discuss it.

"You're talking about this brouhaha with Halt, I suppose? I really don't have the time," he said, making dismissive gestures at her.

"Nonetheless, my lord, it is a brouhaha that we must make time for." She tapped the document with one forefinger. "This is a summary of the brouhaha in question, my lord."

Arald glanced up at her. She seemed to be quite fond of that word, he thought. Or she was gently making fun of his choice of it in the first place. But Lady Pauline's face gave nothing away. She continued: "If you care to look through it?"

He reached for it reluctantly. Pauline had known that he would try to avoid the subject. It was distasteful for all of them, but unfortunately, it had to be resolved. At that moment, there was a heavy-handed knock at the door to the Baron's office and, grateful for any interruption, he hastily called, "Come in!"

She frowned at the distraction. It was Sir Rodney, head of the Redmont Battleschool. He threw the door open and entered with a little more than his usual energy. He was talking before he had even crossed the threshold.

"My lord, you're simple going to have to do something about Halt!" he said. Then, noticing Lady Pauline, he made a small gesture of apology. "Oh, sorry, Pauline, didn't see you there."

Lady Pauline inclined her head in acknowledgement of the apology. The department heads at Redmont were all good friends. There was no petty jealousy between them; none of the manoeuvring for influence and favour that plagued some fiefs.

The Baron sighed deeply. "What has he done now?" he asked.

"Do I sense another brouhaha in the making?" Lady Pauline said innocently and he glanced suspiciously at her. She seemed not to notice.

"Well, one of my fourth-year apprentices was stupid enough to make a remark about Will and Horace being sent of on a soft assignment. Said that's all they were good for."

"Oh, dear," said Lady Pauline. "I do hope he didn't make this remark in Halt's hearing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Rodney. "He's not a bad lad. All muscle and bone, mind you, and a good deal of that between his ears. But he was feeling his oats a little and told Halt to mind his own business." He paused, then added, by way of explanation, "Everyone is a little jumpy, what with all the preparations for war."

"So how is the lad?" Arald asked. Rodney shrugged.

"The infirmary says there's no lasting damage. He'll be back on duty in a few days' time. But the point is, I can't have Halt going around damaging my apprentices. I'm going to need them soon."

Arald toyed with one of the quill pens on his desk. "He's definitely been difficult these past few days," he said. "It's like having a bear with a sore head around the castle. In fact, I think I might prefer a bear with a sore head. It would be less disruptive."

"We were about to discuss Halt's behaviour as you arrived," Lady Pauline said, taking the opportunity to return the conversation to the case in hand. "There had been a complaint about him from Sir Digby of Barga."
"Digby?" Rodney said, a frown touching his face. "Didn't he try to short change us on his draft of men?"

"Exactly," said the Baron. "We're having a lot of that going on at the moment. So I sent Halt to straighten matters out. Thought it might be a good idea to give him something to keep him busy."

"So what's Digby got to complain about?" Rodney asked. It was obvious from his tome that he felt no sympathy for the recalcitrant commander of Barga Hold.

The Baron gestured for Lady Pauline to explain.

"Apparently," she said, "Halt threw him into the moat."

"Into his own moat, you say?" said Sir Rodney.

He paused to think about the fact. Lady Pauline noticed that he didn't seem overly shocked by Halt's action. If anything, there was a look of grim satisfaction on his face. The Baron frowned at Rodney's tacit approval.

"I know the man deserved it," he said, "But we can't have people going around throwing knights into the moat. It's not... diplomatic."
Lady Pauline raised one elegant eyebrow. "Indeed not, sir," she said.

"And Halt has been altogether too high-handed about it all," he continued. "I'm going to have to speak to him about it. Most severely."

"Someone certainly should," Pauline agreed, and Rodney grunted a reluctant assent.

"He definitely needs taking in hand."

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" said a familiar voice, and they all turned guiltily towards the door, which Rodney had left open when he barged in.

Halt stood there, clad in his grey-and-green mottled cloak, his face half hidden in the shadows of the deep cowl. It was uncanny, the Baron thought, how the man could appear almost without a sound. Now Arald, like his two department heads, was conscious that he had been caught talking about Halt behind his back.

He flushed in embarrassment, while Sir Rodney cleared his throat noisily. Only Lady Pauline appeared unconcerned – and she had a lifetime of practicing at appearing unconcerned.

"Aaahhhh...yes...Halt. Of course. Come in, won't you? Shut the door behind you, there's a good fellow." As he said these last words, Baron Arald shot a baleful glance at Sir Rodney, who shrugged guiltily.

Halt nodded greetings to Lady Pauline and Sir Rodney, and then moved to stand before the Baron's massive desk.

There was a long and increasingly awkward silence as the Ranger stood waiting. Arald cleared his throat several times, not sure where to begin. Inevitably, it was Lady Pauline who broke the impasse.

"I imagine you're wondering why the Baron asked to see you, Halt," she said, relieving the tension in the room and forcing Halt to say something – anything – at the same time.

The Ranger, taciturn as ever, glanced at Pauline, then the Baron, and replied in as few words as possible. "Yes, my lord."

But it was a start and now Baron Arald had been given a chance to gather his thoughts and overcome his embarrassment. He brandished the letter in Halt's general direction.

"This..." He managed in time not to say 'brouhaha' again. The word was being grossly overused, he thought. "This... business with Sir Digby, Halt. It's just no good. No good at all!"

"I agree, my lord," Halt said, and the Baron sat back in his chair, a little surprised and quite a bit relieved.

"You do?" he said.

"Yes, my lord. The man is a nincompoop and a fool. Even worse, he took me for a fool as well. I suppose I can understand that he might want to keep some of his men for the planting season. But to try to hide them in the forest from a Ranger? Why, that was a downright insult. The man needed to be taught a lesson."

"But was it your place to teach him, Halt?" The Baron asked. Now Halt raised one eyebrow in reply.

"I don't recall seeing anyone else prepared to do so, my lord."
"Perhaps Halt acted in haste – in the heat of the moment?" Lady Pauline interjected, trying to give Halt a graceful way out of the situation.

But the Ranger simply looked at her, then back to the Baron, and said: "No. It was pretty well thought through. And I didn't rush at all. I took my time."
Lady Pauline shrugged. The Baron's expression showed is exasperation. He would be willing to give Halt some leeway in this matter if the Ranger should only allow it. But Halt was obviously determined to be pigheaded.

"Then there are no mitigating circumstances, Halt," he said firmly. "You have acted excessively. I have no choice but to reprimand you."

Halt considered the matter before replying. "An awkward situation, my lord, since I am not technically answerable to you. I answer to the Ranger Command and, ultimately, to the King."

The Baron opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Halt was right. As the Ranger attached to Redmont Fief, he was required to cooperate with the Baron, but he was independent of the Baron's authority. That fact and Halt's intentionally unhelpful manner were beginning to get under the Baron's skin. Once again, it was Lady Pauline who suggested a compromise.

"Perhaps you could inform Halt, in an official manner, that you are displeased with his actions," she said. The Baron considered the suggestion. It had merit, he thought. But the wording could be a little stronger.

"'Displeased' is too mild a word, Pauline. I would rather use the word 'vexed'".

"I would be most discomforted to know you were vexed, my lord," Halt said, with just the slightest trace of mockery in his tone. The Baron turned a piercing glare on him. Don't take this too far, it warned him.

"Then we shall make it 'extremely vexed', Lady Pauline," he said meaningfully. "I leave it to you to put it in the right form." He looked from her to Halt. "You will receive the official notification of my displeasure tomorrow, Halt."

"I tremble in anticipation, my lord," said Halt, and the Baron's eyebrows drew together angrily.

"I think that will be all, Halt," he said, very obviously restraining his temper. Lady Pauline shook her head slightly at Halt's sardonic tone. He was walking a very fine line, she thought. The Ranger now bowed slightly to Baron Arald, turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

The Baron let his breath out in an angry sigh.

"The man is impossible!" he said. "In all the time I've known him, I have never seen him like this. He's touchy, bad-tempered, and sarcastic! What on earth is the matter with him?"

Sir Rodney shook his head. Like the Baron, he had known Halt for many years, and counted him as a friend.

"Something is obviously bothering him," he said. "But what?"
"Perhaps he's lonely," Lade Pauline said thoughtfully, and both men look at her in amazement.

"Lonely? Halt?" said Sir Rodney incredulously. "Halt's never been lonely in his life! He lives alone. He likes it that way!"

"He did," said Lady Pauline, "But thing have been different for the past year or so, haven't they?"
"You mean... Will?" the Baron asked, and she nodded.

"Think about it. Halt has only ever had two apprentices. There was Gilan, five or six years ago. And now Will. And he's a rather special young man."
The Baron nodded, not sure she was right but willing to listen. "He's that, all right."

Lady Pauline was warming to her theme now. "He's amusing and interesting and talkative and cheerful. I should imagine he's brightened Halt's life quite considerably."

"Not only that," Rodney put in, "But he saved Halt's life as well."

"Exactly," said Lady Pauline. "There's a very special bond that's developed between those two. Halt has become as much a surrogate father as a mentor to Will. And now he's sent him away. I think he's missing him. He'd never admit it, but I think he's been enjoying having a young person around."

She paused to see what the Baron thought. He was nodding agreement.

"You could be right, Lady Pauline," he said. "You could be right." He considered the matter for some seconds, then said thoughtfully: "You know, it might be a good idea if you were to have a talk with him."
"I, my lord?" said Lady Pauline. "Why would I have more influence over him than anyone else?"