The courtyard was wide and walled, large enough that I reckoned a hundred soldiers could drill upon it at once.
Yet, despite the space, it felt strangely cramped now. Twelve knights, armored head to toe and brandishing greatswords, had formed a circle around Clifford. He stood unarmed and unarmored in their midst, looking for all the world like a lamb cornered by wolves.
High above, the green banners of the Marquis' house fluttered with loud snaps in the breeze, echoing against the stone. From the towers and walls came hushed murmurs, dozens of soldiers leaning over the parapets to watch. Below, a thinner ring of spectators pressed close, men-at-arms and retainers jostling for a view. The whole company's eyes were fixed upon Clifford.
It was not me on trial, yet still I could hear the hammering of my own heart.
Strangely, Clifford looked more composed now, standing in the circle of steel, than he had earlier when he faced only the Marquis. His expression was almost calm.
