“You are so kind, Bria. Thank you. But now that I am here, fatigue seems to have vanished. I want only to sit with you and have a long talk,”

“Oh, we shall, Esme. We must have many long talks before I am satisfied.” She paused and added on a more somber note, “You have often been in my thoughts.”

“Thank you. And you have often been in mine. Yes, we have much to talk about.”

Quentin and Toli were standing with Wilkins just inside the wide open doors to the banqueting hall. Others stood a little way off, talking among themselves, awed to be in the presence of the King himself. Wilkins enthusiastically recounted the Journey to Askelon and related the news he had heard along the way.

Quentin, happy to entertain guests-for it had been some time since the cattle had held foreign visitors-pumped the willing man for information which was happily supplied.

“When do you return?” Quentin asked. “Surely you will stay for the hunt.”

“I have heard of the King’s Hunt!” exclaimed Wilkins. “In truth, I was hoping to be invited. Many of the villages we passed through on our way here told us of the hunt. Most described it as a most exceptional event.”

“It is more festival than hunt,” explained Toli. “There will be games of skill, minstrels, and a circus. Three days of celebration are given to it. People come from across all Mensandor to take part, or just to watch.”

“What is the occasion of this festival?” asked Wilkins.

“I do not know,” laughed the King. “The reason lies buried in the past. Tradition has it that the hunt was begun in Celbercor’s time. He used it as a means of helping recruit knights into his service. Legend tells that if a man could kill three boars in a day without dismounting or changing horses, he was made a knight before the sun set!”