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The air was tense out in the courtyard. It was not so tense with the thoughts of impending battle now, for that had dissipated when Athanar’s sons had arrived, but rather with anger and annoyance on the side of the Scarburgians. Thornden took care not to look again at Wulfric. The last attempted insult from Wulfric had affected Thornden about as much as water on a duck’s back. He was content to ignore him, but he was aware of the young man’s fury.
Then the doors of the great hall flew open. Every head in the courtyard turned and all eyes were fixed on the figure of Faramund darting out into the sunlight. He leapt half way down the stairs and then held up his hands and called to them.
“Listen, everyone! Lord Friduhelm will speak to you! Cease any hostilities!”
Thornden glanced about him, at his men, and at the Scarburgians. They had all jumped at the suddenness of Faramund’s appearance and many had half drawn their swords and lowered their spears. A rustle of the weapons being retired rippled through the men and all were still as Friduhelm came to the door, bowed and walking slowly onto the porch.
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