Blade was particularly well qualified to judge their fighting skill. He'd been a member of the Medieval Club during his days at Oxford, and worked out several times a week with replicas of medieval swords, maces, and shields. This skill had saved his life in several Dimensions. It now looked as if this might be another one where such skill would be useful.

Most of the villagers seemed to have already left, either fleeing or, perhaps, being carried off by the knights. Blade decided to follow them. He couldn't see any way to join the fight in such a way that one side would become friendly to him. Even if he did join in, he wasn't sure how much good this would do. Feudal knights could be thick-armed, thick-headed types who saw any nonknight as dirt beneath their feet, whatever he did for them. Blade didn't plan to end up in some baron's dungeon, suspected of being an escaped serf!

The noise of the fighting seemed to die away as he made his way along the fringes of the village. After a while he left the trees behind and skirted the edge of the grainfields. The grain was as tall as he was, and fortunately hadn't caught fire yet.

Blade was about to head off into the grain, away from the village, when he suddenly stepped out onto open ground. Half a dozen houses straggled out into the fields on either side of a dusty trail. In the middle of the trail, two knights were fighting furiously. Both were on foot and both had blood leaking from their armor, but this didn't seem to be slowing them down much. The green-gloved knight had a morningstar, a spiked ball on the end of a length of chain, attached to a short handle. His black-plumed opponent was wielding a mace and shield.

Blade slipped into one of the cottages and watched the fight from inside its doorway. The knight with the morningstar seemed to have a slight edge.