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threat to hand over his trust to an enemy was deeply dishonorable. Nonetheless, Hugh wondered. There had been oddities in the castellan’s behavior from the time he had arrived.
    Hugh had come to Wark to collect the lord’s share of the produce of the demesne and the rents of the tenants. Usually Sir Walter came himself, using the opportunity to examine the property, listen to any complaints, and look over the men-at-arms and the defenses of the keep, as well as go over the accounts. This time, because of the urgent political situation, Sir Walter had sent Hugh to take back to Helmsley what was owing to him. Instead of producing the tally sticks and giving orders to make ready transport for the cheeses, salt meat, and other items due Sir Walter, the castellan had claimed to be too busy to attend the matter that day or the next. He had told Hugh jovially that a few days’ delay could not matter. Hugh was to amuse himself, and on the Monday he would make up the accounts.
    At the time, Hugh had accepted the excuse, feeling only mildly irritated by the castellan’s assumption that he would be glad to take advantage of his master’s absence to idle away a few days. Now, in conjunction with the castellan’s fixed intention to accept Summerville’s terms, the reluctance to fulfill his commitment to Sir Walter took on suspicious overtones. And one suspicion bred others. Doubtless, Hugh thought furiously, the terms of yielding would contain an agreement that the castellan would continue to hold Wark—or would be adequately compensated, perhaps with an estate of his own in Scotland. Whether the terms would be equally generous to those who had urged resistance was questionable. Possibly, also, the castellan would not be eager for Sir Walter Espec to learn too soon that Wark had been yielded to King David. In that case, Hugh thought, Sir Walter’s most trusted squire was unlikely to be allowed to leave soon—or, perhaps, at all.
    Hugh dropped his head as if abashed by being made a fool by the castellan’s reasoning. Then, pretending his embarrassment made him wish to be less conspicuous, he eased his way back in the group surrounding the castellan’s chair until he was in a patch of shadow. Just now, Hugh knew, the man was intent on justifying his own actions, and perhaps almost had himself convinced; however, Hugh did not think the castellan was really a fool. When the man reconsidered what had happened, he might well become suspicious of Hugh’s quick capitulation and realize that Hugh had not been convinced and still intended to warn his lord that Wark was lost.
    Quietly, while the castellan talked about the terms he would demand for yielding, Hugh moved farther back and then down the hall until he was able to slip out the door. To his relief, the drawbridge was still down between the wooden keep atop the motte and the bailey below. He had not heard the castellan give orders to have it raised, but he might have done so secretly. Since he had not, it was probable that he had not given any other special orders. Hugh came down the steps and crossed the bridge without signs of haste, although he was moving as quickly as he could, and made his way to the large hall in the bailey where he had been quartered among the men-at-arms.
    In the hall, he swung off his cloak and undid his belt as he walked toward the chest where his arms and armor were stored. Opening it, he lifted out his hauberk. It was the finest mail, and his hand stroked it lovingly as he thought of the giver. For a man born as he had been, Hugh thought, he had been singularly blessed. As if to make up to him for having no father in blood, he had been granted two fathers of the heart.
    His hauberk, a costly work that he would have been hard pressed to pay for, had been a gift from Thurstan, archbishop of York, into whose care he had been given when only a few hours old by his dying mother. An odd gift, some would have said, from one like Thurstan, who was not one of