“How is this so?” the captain asked dumbfounded. “Can you prove this?” No one needed further proof than the villain’s own face. Never had guilt been so clearly written on a man’s features. But, despite this, evidence was still necessary. And when the fisherman was powerless to give it, the knight had already guessed its location.

“Turn him around!” The two soldiers dutifully obeyed his command and held the struggling prisoner before Sir Reginald’s scrutiny. Several curious heads stretched to watch their leader as he examined Valdigard. At length, a victorious sound escaped his lips and the knight turned around.

Peter watched him go and then thrust his arms about his father’s neck. Michael, too grasped his son tightly, when suddenly the boy recoiled.

“Papa!” Peter looked at his own hand, covered with his father’s blood. “Your shoulder! You are hurt!” The man smiled away the boy’s fright.

“I’m alright,” he assured him, taking the child’s hand. “And how is my son?” In response, the boy threw himself into his father’s arms, crying outright.

“I thought,” he gasped. “I thought that you were dead!” Michael put his hand on the young man’s head.

“So did I,” he sighed wearily. Peter caught the pain in his voice and shivered. The father felt the quiver and understood it. Slowly, he sat down on the hard floor and gently adjusted Peter onto his lap. The severest trial endured by the eleven-year-old that day had been a test of Faith… in God.

“But God protects us, Peter!” He patted his son’s back, “Doesn’t He?” The boy pulled away.

“Papa!” His voice betrayed the struggle. “They’re going to come back for you!” Michael looked into his fearful eyes.

“I know,” he whispered.

Peter stared at him dumbfounded. His father sounded so calm. He barely made it away with his life! They both did! How can he be so sure? The young boy groaned and slumped against his father’s chest.

“After all this,” Peter wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “I’m just so grateful that I am here with you.”

“So am I.” the hunter smiled. His son leaned back, and just sat staring at him.

The man suddenly took the young head and pressed it gently against his shoulder. Peter felt a strong squeeze. The boy returned the hug with all his strength, little guessing that this ploy was used to hide the father’s tears.

A flash of lightening lit the dim room. Clasping his son all the tighter, Michael listened to the raging storm. The rumbling thunder brought with it the memory of the Queen’s knight and his parting words. Though the deadly threat still rang in his ears, the hunter refused to dwell on future dangers. He must face them, yes... but for now, fear had no place in his heart - so grateful to God and Our Lady. They had kept him safe so far, and he would leave his fate in their hands.

“Few of you may know our enemies’ emblem. Even fewer are aware that these heathens iron this symbol onto themselves, burning it onto the back of their necks. It is simply a snake coiled around the earth. The Exthereon royalty wear a crowned serpent. This man is nothing less than a prince of Exthereous.”

The range of emotions differed throughout the room as the soldiers’ went from an eye-opening fear to a triumphant joy. They eagerly fulfilled their leader’s orders and bound their regal captive. Cunnel too, found himself being tied, as he had willingly acknowledged his conspiracy with Valdigard. Captain Martin echoed the knight’s orders with a victorious pride. His joy, however, was short-lived, for the knight turned to him with a stern eye.

“Not only did you disobey your explicit orders, Captain Martin,” rebuked Sir Reginald stepping towards him, “But you nearly let our enemy’s brother slip right through our fingers!”

“How was I supposed to know?” The soldier foolishly defended his hopeless position. He pointed at Michael, still stretched on the floor. “That man kidnapped the prince! Are you going to let him just escape, simply because we’ve caught a bigger fish?”

The four other soldiers stood waiting. Sir Reginald motioned for one of them to fetch the hunter. Michael was pulled to his feet and brought before the knight.

“Were you working with the Exthereon?” he asked the huntsman.

“No,” answered Michael simply.

“You expect him to say otherwise?” the captain scoffed at his superior. “What motivation would he have to betray himself?”

His question was left unanswered, except by the sounds of the raging storm outside. Peter watched his father lower his head. The young boy stood aghast. Why did he say nothing? Prayer was all well and good, but it was not helping the situation. An armored hand was set on the hunter’s shoulder. Before Peter could protest, a dull voice broke the silence.

“No, he did not work for the Exthereons.”

The soldiers turned and Michael looked up.

“Nor was he my accomplice,” Samuel Cunnel added. He shifted somewhat uneasily and then admitted “His interests were his own.” Having finished, the fisherman promptly shut his lips and turned away.

Despite his own surprise, Sir Reginald sent the astounded Captain Martin a confident look.

“Tell me the fisherman’s motivation for that!” mocked the knight. The soldier recognized his error, but was not put off.

“So he had his own motives! He had the prince’s medallion and should still be arrested!”

“Unlike you,” Sir Reginald responded indignantly, “I obey the orders I am given. And I was told to arrest the Exthereon along with all his accomplices. This man is neither.” The knight motioned for his men to leave.

“Take the prisoners to the castle as quickly as the storm will permit.” The soldiers struggled to move Valdigard, but eventually got him moving at sword point. Only one took Cunnel, who reluctantly followed his lead. He sought in vain to shield his guilty face from Michael’s look.

“What of the huntsman?” one of the soldiers inquired.

“I will deal with him,” assured Sir Reginald. “Now make haste! The night grows late.” The men hurried the prisoners outside. The fisherman turned back towards his house. Through the open door, he again caught a glimpse of the hunter’s face, an opportunity which Michael had waited for. Slowly nodding, the huntsman silently acknowledged his enemy’s apology. Cunnel understood the gesture, which came only a moment before he was shoved forward and onto the road. The fisherman was soon out of sight, but not a before a silent prayer had left the grateful huntsman. In that brief moment, Michael had seen a peace in Cunnel's eyes, but one rooted in a deeper reconciliation - that of the fisherman's soul with God.

Some soldiers lingered in the house, still focused on the hunter.

“You can’t just let him go!” Captain Martin complained. Sir Reginald, in response, turned his attention to Michael.

“The queen has not the time to deal with the likes of you at the moment," he told the hunter. "I know you will believe me, when I say this Exthereon prince gets priority. But you must understand that you are a walking prisoner. You have tonight to return to your home. If you so much as set foot out of your village until we have returned to deal with your actions, you’re a dead man.”

“What of my family?” the hunter demanded boldly. Sir Reginald gestured for Peter’s release. One of the soldiers obediently cut the youth's bonds.

“There.” he muttered, thrusting the boy into his father’s arms, “Take him and go!” The knight headed for the door.

“What of the rest?” Michael called after him. The knight turned around impatiently. His upheld hand beckoned for a soldier.

“Return to Maristella,” Sir Reginald explained to the archer. “and see to it that this hunter’s family is released.” The soldier bowed and hurried out into the rain. The knight looked back at the “prisoner”. He raised a warning finger.

“One foot…” Sir Reginald threatened. “And you are a dead man.” Wrapping his cape about him, the knight walked into the storming darkness.