“But…?” Anna pulled frantically at her father’s arm. “Why won’t you try to escape?” Instead of answering, the huntsman laid a gentle hand on the girl’s frightened face.

“What does it matter?” a bitter voice muttered. “They’d catch him anyway.”

Michael glanced at his eldest son. Of all of them, he worried for Peter.

Throughout the past two weeks, the hunter had spoken often with his children, especially Peter. They must all understand that God was allowing this and they must trust in Him as their Father – their first and greatest Father. But they did understand and they would try. Despite their tears, Michael knew they would. By God’s grace they were strong. It's just now, when it’s actually happening, it’s easy to be afraid. The younger ones clung to their father, promising to be brave while the others nodded in silence.

Michael’s eyes met his wife’s. Without realizing it, his heart searched hers for a quiet peace, a place to leave his strength. A sigh escaped him, while a smile lit the woman’s tear-stained face. No words, not a sound – their souls had spoken – each understood the other.

The only thing that Michael was afraid to leave... was Peter. The boy had valiantly contained his emotions thus far, but his father could sense that forgiveness had not yet found a home in his heart.

The hunter quickly approached his son.

“Do you forgive him, Peter?”

The question took the boy by surprise and his anger swelled before he could suppress it. His mind raced through a hundred memories – all of Philip. Forgiveness? For everything the prince had done – to him, his father, and his family? Maybe. But to forgive the prince for this – his father’s arrest and probable death?

The boy turned away without a word. He could not lie and yet he would not break his father’s heart.

“I have, my son.” Michael laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

The boy sighed and quickly muttered, “I can.”

This pained the hunter even more. Before he could respond, the door shook with a loud thud.

The other children shuddered and crowded around their father.

“Here,” Michael quickly led them to Greta. “Stay with your mother,” he whispered. Anna would not let go. The hunter gently released her hold and placed her in his wife’s arms. As he pulled away, his hand caught his wife’s. Greta looked up from her daughter.

“Open in the name of the king!” a voice shouted from outside. A loud bang sent a quiver through the door.

“God will protect you,” Michael assured them. His voice faltered for a brief moment . Then, he quickly, though reluctantly, released his wife’s hand and headed for the door.

Just as he turned though, another “knock” caused a final ‘boom.’ A loud crash immediately followed, as the feeble door was knocked to the ground.

The little dust quickly settled and Michael saw an uneasy foot soldier staring at the broken door. Shifting awkwardly, the little man bellowed out:

The distinct sounds of horses and soldiers marching could clearly be heard now, steadily approaching the Hawksons’ humble home. They were coming for him.

“Step out into the light!” a voice shouted from behind the soldier. Michael obediently followed the command. The door down, his children peered past him at the group of armored men. Some were standing, while others were on horseback. The one who had just spoken appeared to be of leading rank- mounted on a steed at the head of the line. He in turn, looked past the hunter and into the home.

“And your family?” the knight asked. “Are they here?”

Without answering, Michael bowed his head, “I pray that our good queen has given you permission to limit the king’s justice to only me. I beg her majesty to acquit my family, particularly my eldest son, who is only a child.”

The foot soldier standing beside him clarified the request. “You are claiming the consequences for his actions?”

“I am.” Michael raised his head.

“I am afraid that will not be possible!” declared the knight on horseback.

The hunter turned beseechingly to this spokesman.

“Please, good sir - ” the father began. But the rider interrupted.

“Do you think I am ignorant of your son’s participation?”

Michael looked up at the elegantly dressed knight. This was clearly one of her majesty’s most powerful and influential men.

“No. But surely,” the hunter pleaded. “as his father, I have primary responsibility for him.”

“Yes,” the knight assured him, dismounting his horse. “You do!” Then with a snap, he called out “Sir Reginald!”

Michael recognized the approaching rider. The standing knight spoke to the other.

“Confirm for me, Sir Reginald,” the man said, staring at Michael, “That this is the man my son, Philip, spoke of.”

The astonished huntsman stepped back.

Prince Philip's father?

Sir Reginald bowed, “Yes, your majesty.”

The hunter dropped to his knees.

“My…my king!” he humbly lowered his head before the young monarch. Michael’s family, suddenly realizing what was happening, followed his example and knelt down.

“It is a great evil,” The king slowly approached the hunter, “that justice has hitherto neglected your deeds.” The knight stopped short before his bowed subject. Taking hold of his sword, the king murmured:

“But no longer.”

Greta quietly turned Anna’s tear-stained face away. A moan escaped the woman’s lips and Bridgett began to cry. Michael listened to their parting grief, but kept his head lowered.

The king swiftly unsheathed his weapon and swung it into the air. Several cries were heard from within the house as the children turned away, cowering in fear. Peter alone looked on. His eyes would not leave his father.