But the king’s next words took the smiles from their faces. “All of you are in the wrong. This case cannot be settled by a simple determination of right.”

I certainly agreed with him there. I had even had to abandon what would have been my own solution, to divide the field down the middle between the two claimants-if indeed there were only two.

The king crossed his arms and glared. “I have only one option left to me. I am going to swear you to peace!”

The knights all straightened to attention and slapped their sword hilts ritually.

“But in that case-” someone began.

Again the king paid no attention. “You will have to work out for yourselves who has the right to plow and gather, who to pasture cows on the stubble, where your cousin is buried now, and who will marry whom, but you will have to do it without violence!”

He turned and motioned toward Joachim, the royal chaplain, who had been standing on the other side of the throne from me. A dissatisfied murmuring and shuffling began with the king’s words but stopped immediately as the chaplain came forward, carrying a heavy Bible in both hands.

He was as young as I, and didn’t even have my wizardly white beard to give an aura of mysterious wisdom. But the absolute seriousness of his gaunt face and his enormous and compelling black eyes always gave him an air of dignity and authority that I knew I would never be able to equal. This was made even worse by the knowledge that in his case the effect was entirely unintentional.

The chaplain set the Bible on a table beside the king. “Come forward!” the king commanded. “Each of you, put your right hand on the Bible. Swear before God and the saints that you will practice violence no more, but that you will seek peace with these your neighbors.”