About a hundred yards away on the opposite bank was Sal Village. Of course, given its size, Sal Village could already be called a small town. It was encircled by its unique Frank Dyke and situated at one of the best natural fords on this upper stretch of the river.
Eric still remembered the Abbot from Sal Village who paid his taxes in coin.
Two rows of stones marked the boundaries of the safe ford. The Knights waded across, aware that they made for an impressive sight. Their high-stepping horses sent up splashes of water, and the sunlight catching the droplets added a sheen to the damp Leather and sand-scoured Armor.
When they reached the west bank, they turned right and formed a rough circle around their Lord.
