Little Thomas called out a greeting, and Geoffrey paused in his walk. He watched the little boy run toward him, holding a small spear in his arms. Elslow had fashioned the toy spear just the evening before.

"And what are you about?" he asked in what he considered his pleasant voice.

"I am going to learn the quintain," the child yelled.

"And who is going to teach you this exercise?" Geoffrey asked, smiling.

"Gerald," Thomas said, pointing to the squire, who was now coming around the side of the fort with his horse trailing behind. "See what he made?"

Geoffrey looked to where Thomas pointed. There, pounded into the ground, stood a five-foot post. Across the top was another piece of board, placed crosswise. Hanging from one end was a straw figure of a knight, and from the other end hung a bag of sand. The object of the exercise was to thrust the lance at the pretend knight, but with sureness and quickness, else the bag of sand would swing around in time to knock the rider from his saddle. The quintain was an exercise that the older squires preferred, and too dangerous for one as small as the child standing in front of him. "Today," he said, "you will just watch. And perhaps tomorrow you can sit in front of Gerald while he practices this most difficult exercise," Geoffrey stated.

Gerald swung up into the saddle of his horse then and showed Thomas how the exercise was done. The child was so impressed that he dropped his spear and clapped his hands with approval. "Again," he shouted, running closer to the squire, "do it again."

Gerald, seeing that he had his lord's undivided attention, was eager to comply. He was anxious to show his lord how nimble and quick he was. He turned the horse and raced him toward the target and swung his lance like an ax. His aim was for the area of the chest, but he misjudged in his enthusiasm, and the lance severed the clump of straw just below the helmet, causing the body of straw to fall in a heap while the head swung in its decapitated state.

Gerald was mortified. To show such clumsiness in front of his baron was humiliating. He started to call an apology for his aim when he caught sight of the child's face. What he saw there stopped him cold. He could only stare. And then the scream erupted from the lad, piercing the air like the release of a tormented soul from hell, the sound so devastating that Gerald had to cover his ears to keep the torment from reaching his soul.

Geoffrey was the first to react. He raced over to the child, turned him to look into his face. The anguish he saw there caused an ache to lodge in his heart. Again and again the child screamed, and all Geoffrey could do was hold him fast against him. It was little comfort, he knew, as the boy did not seem to recognize that he was being held.

Roger, with Elslow trailing behind, raced toward them. Geoffrey motioned to them that it was all right, and then lifted the child into his arms. The screams lessened then and the boy began to sob. He was soon exhausted from his shock and rested his head on Geoffrey's shoulder, clinging to him with his hands while he confronted his memory. "My mama," he sobbed.

"You are safe now, Thomas. Safe," Geoffrey chanted while he patted the boy on his back. His words calmed the child and the heart-wrenching sobs subsided.

Both Roger and Elslow stepped out of his path as Geoffrey walked by, still holding the child in his arms. His intent was to take the boy to his sister.

And then Elizabeth appeared. She came running toward them with a look on her face that saddened Geoffrey as much as the child's distress. She stopped when she saw they were coming toward her, though she continued to look terrified.

Geoffrey could tell by the way she was staring at her brother's back that she thought him injured, and he shook his head and said in a gentle whisper, "He remembers."

Elizabeth understood. Tears filled her eyes and she nodded, reaching one trembling hand out to touch her brother. Geoffrey took hold of it and pulled her into his other side. With his arm circling her shoulders, he began to walk again.

She found herself leaning against him. The terror that her brother was horribly injured was over. She felt the safety and the peace of Geoffrey's hold and, for the moment, called a truce. They were united for this short time, both offering their comfort and their strength to the little one in need. Without exchanging a word, the three of them walked into their home.

"Thomas, do not hang out that ledge," Elizabeth ordered. "You will fall two stories down and lose your brains." The boy ignored Elizabeth 's command and continued to lean out the window of her bedroom, spitting down at his unsuspecting victims between giggles of absolute seven-year-old delight.

Geoffrey opened the door to their room in time to hear his wife's next words. "If you do not climb down from there this very instant, I will tell your lord and he will be most angry," Elizabeth threatened. "And if I ask it, he will give you a sound thrashing."

The promise worked, and her little brother hurried to the floor, knocking over the stool he had climbed as a ladder. "Maybe he will not listen to you," Thomas said with another giggle. He liked to see his sister lose her patience on occasion, especially when he was bored with confinement.

"He will listen." The quiet assurance nearly knocked the child over. Thomas turned wide blue eyes to his lord and turned a scarlet red.

Geoffrey frowned at the boy and then turned to his wife. Holding his mask of indifference for the child's benefit, he said in a serious tone, "Do you wish me to thrash him or not?"

Elizabeth knew that he was teasing from the glint of warm gold lighting his eyes. She almost laughed and then saw that her brother was watching her.

"I must think this over, husband," she said, pretending to consider the idea. "Since yesterday this impetuous brother of mine has caused much havoc. He placed honey in Gerald's helmet-"

"I thought he would think it funny," Thomas interrupted with obvious distress. He did not like having his sins paraded before his new lord.

"Gerald did not think it the least bit funny," Elizabeth snapped, keeping her expression firm, "and today Roger has confined him to our room because he tries to ride on the backs of my dogs. And now," she ended, "he disregards my orders and tries to spit on your soldiers. What think you of this behavior, my lord?"

Geoffrey shook his head and considered the child bowing his head before him. It had been five short days since the little one had regained his memory and in that time Geoffrey saw a complete transformation overtake the boy. He was wild and totally without caution, and had been saved from certain death at least twice a day by someone or other.

"What say you in your defense?" he asked the child. Laughter was building inside of him but he dared not show it. The child needed to know that there were limits and that he must stay within them, else he would never see his own knighthood. Besides, Geoffrey reasoned, if he so much as showed a grin, his wife would most probably thrash him.

Thomas knelt down and put his hand over his heart. He peeked up to see if his dramatic action had pleased the warrior and found the huge man frowning still. Closing his eyes tightly, he said, "I am sorry and I won't do it again. I promise," he said in a hopeful voice.

"You are totally without discipline and I wonder how you will ever become a knight," Geoffrey stated. "Now stand and follow me. I will put you to work so that you cannot get into further mischief."

"Husband? May I have a moment with you?" Elizabeth 's softly spoken question felt like a tender stroke against his heart.

"Go and wait for me at the bottom of the steps," he told the child.

As soon as the door shut behind the child, Geoffrey began to chuckle.