THE NOBLEMAN

AGYEMANG PREMPEH EMMANUEL

AND

SAMUELLA BOATEMAA AGYEMANG

TO
My lovely Parents Mr & Mrs
Manu Agyemang, my dearest
aunty Grace Boateng, mwonderful
and my family and friends.
CHAPTER ONE
 CHAPTER ONE

Two Knights entered the arena and the crowd

erupted into cheers and shouts of approval. King

Windels, seated in his throne overlooking this

scene, raised his head in acknowledgement and his

Queen politely clapped. The King’s daughter, the

beautiful, raven-haired, Princess Ketura, however,

regarded the spectacle with barely concealed

disdain. It was an uneven match; the new

Tourainian Champion, Benjamin, was a quick and

highly skilled swordsman, his opponent was a

young bullish, Saxon knight, with scarcely a season

of experience behind him. The fight lasted seconds.

The eager Saxon ran forward, and immediately

received two blows to the head, in quick succession.

He hit the floor with a resounding thud and did not

move again. The defending champion, Benjamin,

basked in the glory; he removed his helmet, raising

his sword in the air to announce his triumph, while

the crowd cheered and his unconscious opponent

was half-drugged, half-carried out of the arena by

two attendants. The king nodded his approval at the

victor, who stole a glance toward Princess Ketura.

However, she did not acknowledge him and he

turned away suppressing a snarl of frustration as the

Herald walked into the arena to announce the

competitors for the final match. “Benjamin, son of

the count Touraine,” the crowd began to hush as the

Herald spoke “will neat defend his championship

against The Official Representative Knight of the

Principality of Perigord!” The crowd went wild

once again, as the final match was being announced

and Benjamin stormed out of the arena to prepare

for battle, his recent victory soured by the Princess’

disregard for him. “He may have a struggle on is

hands” Whispered the King to his wife, his daughter

silently agreed. No one knew who ‘The Knight’

was, only that no one had stood a chance when

matched in combat. The crowds had been growing

more and more intrigued with the mystery, and

rumours surrounding ‘The Knight’ grew: perhaps it

was a great Saracen warrior, fallen in love with the

handsome; the Prince Williams of Perigord, or an

ancient Greek hero, rising from the dead, or a

knight bestowed with magic from the fey of the

north. The rumours became more fantastic with

every new day, and yet the mystery still stood. Over

the course of the tournament, the king’s initial

amusement at this simple mystery had turned to

displeasure, discomfort and distaste. He had

watched in anger as ‘The Knight’ clambered up the

league table defeating champion after champion,

until reaching today, the grand finale of the

tournament, where he stood against the king’s own

champion in Benjamin. King Windels now felt sure

that ‘The Knight’ was a mercenary somehow paid

for the reigning King of Perigord, in order to force

the King to make good on his promises: to sign a

peace treaty should a champion of Perigord win the

Tournament of Bourges. Windels had been sure that

Perigord was cripples beyond defeat; the king had

no surviving sons and had put every penny of his

treasury into vainly defending his castles against a

superior army. Windels thought he had driven the

little country into the ground, he meant only to taunt

the scholarly King with the opportunity if peace and

the return of his castles. He had not intended to

have to make good on his word. He shifted

impatiently in his chair, just a minute away from

satisfaction, or humiliation. Princess Ketura waited

with equal impatience, but entirely different

reasons. ‘The Knight’ fascinated her: Tournaments

usually bored her; she had little interest on combat.

However, the mystery surrounding ‘The Knight’s’

sudden appearance had been struck down over the

last few days, had captured her imagination. Just the

day before, she had witnessed a fight between ‘The

Knight’ and Christopher, better known as Benito the

Beast, who was twice the width, and a clear foot

taller than the challenger was. But ‘The Knight’ had

shocked everyone by shedding most of the standard

armour; appearing with just a cloth on arms and

legs, a tabard, helmet, gauntlets and swords. The

administrators were forced to check the lengthy

rulebook to ensure such an outfit was legal, but

when the match started ‘The Knight’s’ tactics

became clear; any blow from ‘Benito the Beast’

would surely be lethal, no matter how dense the

armour, ‘The Knight’ had decided speed movement

was the best chance of success. After one swift

behind Christopher’s knee, this theory had been

correct. The thud of the beast hitting the ground was

even on the terraces, the cheer of the crowd had

been deafening and the legend of ‘The Knight’ was

sealed. Suddenly the crowd cheered again as the

opponents stepped into the arena; the final match

for the championship of the Tournament of Bourges

was about to begin.

CHAPTER TWO

The stepping figure of Benjamin re-entered the

arena, he stepped forward, holding his helmet aloft,

and smiling to the crowd, playing with their

favours, his point clear ‘I am not afraid to show my

face’. In contrast ‘The Knight’ stepped out to

rapturous applause, but stood perfectly still on the

contender’s mark. As the Herald began his

longwinded introduction, the crowd hushed and

Princess Ketura began tapping the arm of her chair

impatiently. Suddenly the King reached out and

grabbed her hand, she gasped as he crushed it

tightly in his fist then, without so much as a glance,

he let her go and she made sure not to move again.

Anticipating and excitement filled the air, and once

the Herald finished his speech, the crowd was

utterly silent. Ketura was sure her heart was

pounding in her chest. She was worried her might

reach out and crush that as well. The sudden sound

of the fanfare made her jump and she watched as

both knights adjusted their stance and turned their

attention to the king, who raised an arm. It seemed

like he waited an Eternity holding his hand aloft,

relishing in the power he had, before he struck it

down and the match began. Ketura was not the only

one that shifted to the edge of her seat. The two

knights slowly circled one another. Benjamin

lunged, but was back with a swift movement of the

Knight’s sword. They tested one another striking

and falling back, finding strengths, seeking

weaknesses. Benjamin was back more than once but

The Knight took several blows to the shield. They

parried back and forth, but Benjamin had more

strength. He pushed forward, repeatedly and again.

The crowd gasped as he raised his sword to strike a

final blow. ‘The Knight’ deflected it and Benjamin

stumbled. As he tried to regain his balance, ‘The

Knight’ struck him hard against the shield.

However, he shook it off and lunged towards his

opponent once again. Princess Ketura could hardly

breathe as she watched; she noticed The Knight’s

shield arm had dropped, tired from repeated blows,

she could barely look as she realised it may not be

long before her precious knight was struck down.

Benjamin had noticed the arm drop as well; he was

merciless, striking blow, after blow against the

shield aside. Benjamin’s supporters cheered, sue

that he had secured victory, and Ketura was noticed

by the king edge forward in his throne. Benjamin

lunged, the clashing of their sword’s rand out across

the arena, the audience were screaming in delight,

the champion was taller, stronger and victory

seemed within his grasp as he bore down on ‘The

Knight’. Their swords pushed against one another,

Benjamin’s one hanged strength to the knight’s two,

it looked as though it was over, it looked though

‘The Knight’ would buckle. The king chuckled in

delight as the thorn in his side was about to be torn

from his flesh. However, ‘The Knight’ twisted; the

champion had pushed his weight too far, he lost his

balance and stumbled forward. ‘The Knight’ struck

him to the back of the head and the king’s

champion, four years running, fell to his face in the

sand of the arena. The crowd roared, ecstatic in the

surprise defeat. Benjamin turned to stand, but ‘The

Knight’ was there, holding a sword the loser’s neck.

The victory was sealed with a reluctant nod from

Benjamin and ‘The Knight’ turned and took a step

toward the king to accept the prize, but Benjamin

saw his chance; he leapt up from the ground and

charged toward the knight piercing his sword

through the tabard and chain mail beneath. The

knight drops to one knee, but was helped to stand

and escorted before the king, who was fuming in his

seat, barely able to contain his rage. However, it

was the King’s duty to bestow the championship on

‘The Knight’ and, despite his anger; he stood

waiting for the crowd to settle. “We congratulate

you!” The King boomed, his voice strong and

intimidating. Your performance has been heroic.

You are, truly, a deserving champion and you may

claim your prize. The knight stepped forward, one

hand clutching the wound, the other moved to

unbuckle the helmet. The crowd began to whisper,

as the face of ‘The Knight’ could be seen. Without

thinking Ketura stood, desperate to see the face

behind the mask. With a flourish, the armour was

had been lifted. Ketura gasped and the crowd went

wild. “What is the meaning of this?” The King

yelled with indignation. A handsome young man

stood before them, his blonde curls were tied into

neat plaits, just a few loose straggles around his

face, his ice blue eyes held the gaze of the king as

he lowered himself onto one knee before him. “I am

Prince Williams of Perigord, and I have come,

under your terms, to request that you release my

father’s castles back to his control.

CHAPTER THREE

“Seize him.” The King said.

There was no anger in his voice, no rage, and it took

a moment for the guards to react to the order. Prince

Williams held the King’s gaze as he went out of the

auditorium, his eyes flicking, just for a moment,

toward Ketura. The crowd were startled, some

jeered and booed, some shouted, most were asking

each other what had happened. The Herald, who

had been eagerly preparing the trophy, now stood

awkwardly at the side-line, unsure of the protocol in

The event that stated the champion would be

arrested. In the hours after the tournament, the

taverns were filled with people, each with their own

story to tell, some were sure he had been arrested

for entering the competition illegally, others

believed he was arrested as a prisoner of war.

Princess Ketura was unable to think of anything

else. The celebratory banquet had gone ahead but

the King had shut himself away with his advises.

Ketura had eaten little and had paid little attention

to the entertainment laid on in the grand hall of the

castle. She decided to leave while it was still early

slipping out without alerting any of her women

house cleaner. She had intended to hide herself

away in her room but as she walked through the

corridor towards the cold, stone stairway, she

stopped, hovered for a moment at the foot of the

stairs. She could not just go to bed and forget the

tournament and the injustice of it and she certainly

could not forget those eyes. With her mind made

up, she turned and made her way down to the

dungeon. The two guards sat at a small table

playing dice, the said nothing as she walked past

and straight over to the cell where Prince Williams

was being held. Still in his armour, he sat on the

floor, her back against the wall, there was no sign of

his helmet or gauntlets, his tabard was torn and

bloody, and although his eyes were closed, he still

clutched his side. Ketura did not wish to disturb

him, and stood quietly at the bars, unsure whether to

stay or go.

“What do you want?” Williams’ voice was soft,

weak. He did not move or open his eyes as he spoke

“I just want to see if you are well,”

Williams turned to look at Ketura he was tired and

pale.

“And what is your verdict?”

“You don’t seem well.” Replied Ketura, feeling

rather foolish, Williams laughed weakly.

“I am in urgent need of a physician. But I do not

believe that one will be forthcoming.”

“Have you sent for one?”

He smiled and closed his eyes once again.

“I have indeed.” She sat quietly. “I have indeed…

Prince?”

However, Williams did not move again. Ketura

hurried towards the two guards

“Have you sent for a physician for the Prince?”

One of the guards stood up awkwardly, to address

Ketura.
“Yes ma’am. He will arrive in the morning!” his

speech was slightly slurred

“In the morning? He may not be alive in the

morning!” She shouted.

The guard cast his eyes downward, unable and

unwilling to justify the behaviour of the physician.

Ketura glanced back at the man slumped against the

wall she knew that if she did not take charge, then

Williams would not live than a few hours.

“Transfer the prisoner to my chambers,” She said

The guard was startled

“But ma’am…the king…” he spluttered.

“What about the King?

“He said we were not supposed to let him out of our

sight ma’am.”

She knew she was defying the King; she knew that

he would not be pleased to find out that his daughter

had undermined his order, she was prepared for the

consequences, but she wasn’t prepared to let these

men be punished as well.

“Then you will guard my chambers, and your friend

here will go and fetch the court physician,” the

other guard started to leave “wait! Let’s get him

upstairs first, shall we?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ketura carefully mopped the brow of the feverish

knight; he was lean out on Keturah’sbed, she

removed his armour, and, after tracking down her

attendants, they brought some clothes for him.

Ketura had never seen a man as handsome as the

Prince Williams, from a distance his looks were

striking, but up close, with the soft light of the fire

on his skin, and the curls of the golden hair that fell

about his face, Ketura could understand why songs

had been written about him. She had done her best

to bandage the wound but was still waiting for the

physician to arrive. Williams seemed to be sleeping

and Ketura could not resist stroking the soft skin of

his cheek with the back of her hand.

“You have a healer’s touch.” Said Williams softly,

her eyes still closed, Ketura snapped her hand back.

“I am already feeling much better”

“I think that has more to do with the bed.” Ketura

replied, sure that she had made little difference to

the wound.

Williams laughed lightly, then winced

“Don’t make me laugh,” she whispered.

Ketura was notsure he had intended to

“Keep talking though…please.” Williams said

looking up at her.

“I’ve sent for the physician, he will be here soon,”

Ketura said, starting stroke her head once more.

“I’ve had the fire lit, hope it is warm enough for

you… the banquet was very poor…really poor…

you didn’t miss anything.”

Williams laughed softly, and winced again.

“I told you not to make me laugh.”

“I’m sorry.” Replied Ketura, honestly.

They were a long silence whiles Ketura thought of

what to say, she was intrigued and desperate to find

out so much about this unlikely warrior

“I…” she started “I did wonder…why, I mean to

say how…how you learnt to fight like that?”

“I was taught.”

“Oh…” She wanted to push further, but the door

burst open.

“Ketura, Your Majesty! What has happened?”

She turned to see the court physician he looked as if

he roused from sleep, and wide eyed with worry.

His nervous attendant stood behind him carrying his

huge bag of potions.

“It isn’t me” she replied. She eased off the bed

gently so as not to disturb the Prince, and stood so

that she revealed the young man to the doctor. The

Physician’s face fell.

“Is the King aware of this?” He asked, worried.

She shook her head.

“Williams, the prince, he’s wounded, badly, you

must look at her” Ketura pleaded, “If he were to die

it could mean war for both our countries.”

“Will you do it for me?”

He fixed him with an uncertain gaze and then

slowly nodded.

“I will.” He said with a sign, and moved towards

Williams, he spoke softly to her, as Ketura began to

pace in front of the fire.

He gave him something to drink, and then

investigated his wound, after some moments turned

to his attendant.

“You will have to hold him down.” He spoke.

“No” interrupted Ketura, “I will.”

“I really don’t think that this will be suitable for a

woman to witness.” The physician said uncertainly.

“Williams will have to witness it; I rather think he

will be glad of the support.” With time pressing on

the physician waved Ketura into place, she held

Williams close and began to stroke his soft hair.

The physician cleaned the blood from the wound; it

had congealed, but only slightly, Williams winced

each time he touched it. After preparing a needle, he

gave Williams a piece of wood to bite down on; he

took a deep breath and began to sew. At the first

puncture Williams let out a muffled scream, his

nails dug into Keturah’s arm, his muscles tensed,

and although tried not to move, with each new

puncture her body convulsed. However, the

physicians were swift; in just a few seconds, he tied

off and cut the thread. Williams’ breathing was

heavy, she was sobbing, and Ketura realised he had

not taken in a breath since the first needle broke

skin. The physician placed the poultice over the

wound and bandaged his waist, Ketura continued to

stroke her lair and, slowly, his breathing began to

slow.

“Another drink and then sleep, I think.” The

physician said as he reached forward and pulled the

wood from between Williams’ teeth.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

The Physician nodded to him.

“I think we can leave an attendant to care for the

prince through the night, don’t you?”

Ketura did not acknowledge his question; she was

still holding Williams in his arms and softly

mopping her brow.

“Lady Ketura?”

“I think it best I stay.” She said without locking up.

“As you wish.”

He placed the flagon beside the table and nodded

once more to the prince before he left them alone

for the night.

 CHAPTER FIVE

A loud clang, after clang, after clang, tore her from

sleep. She rose above the deep dreams, torn out her

sweet slumber as the din became louder and ever

more demanding. She looked around the room,

trying to register what was happening. She was in

her bed, but she was not alone. The handsome face

of Prince Williams rested next to her, still asleep,

unmoving. His face was hot to the touch. She would

not be awake for a while. Ketura pulled out of bed,

and walked to the window. All the bells of the

castle and the churches were ringing out. In the

square below there were guards and people,

running, searching, turning over hay carts, charging

out the gates. With cold dread, she realised what

they were looking for. She snatched up a robe and

dressed quickly, she had to be sure, she had to find

out what had happened and discover how much

danger they were in. she gave last glance to the

Prince, but could not resist rushing over and laying

a gentle kiss on his forehead before closing the

curtain.One of the guards from the night before was

there, he was pacing back and forth, clearly

concerned.

“Where is the other one?” she demanded.

The guard spun around to look at her, relief and

then fear flashed across his face.

“He…He bolted.” he bowed slightly as he said the

words.
“Bolted?” She said in confusion. “You mean he

ran? Why would he do that?”

“The bells ma’am, they go off when a prisoner’s

escaped.”

“I know that!” She snapped irritably. She was all

too aware of the reason behind his fear, but not

willing to admit that she shared his concern.

“We helped ma’am! We helped him escape and

come up here!” His voice was rising in panic, she

knew he was right, but she also knew he was right,

but she also knew that panicking would not help

either of them.

“Pull yourself together boy!” He was probably older

than she was, but she knows he needed to be in

place. “The prisoner has not escaped! He will

noteven wake up! It is hardly treason to put

someone to bed now, is it?”

He snapped to attention.

“No ma’am.” He spoke.

“Now, we shall go down to court and clear up this

issue ourselves, understand?”

He nodded, and she headed off down the corridor,

as he followed like a loyal puppy. She was nervous.

She did not know what kind of repercussions there

would be for moving a prisoner, for going against

her father’s wishes; she took deep breath to calm

her nerves.

“What is your name?” She asked the guard, hoping

that she could distract herself for a moment.

“Bly” he replied “Edward Bly, Ma’am.”

“Well, Edward, I need you to stand with me on

this,” they stopped in the corridor, just outside the

door to the great hall, she could hear a lot of voices

in the room beyond and needed to find the nerve to

enter the room “whatever happens, we are in this

together.”

He looked at her with wide eyes, he was just a

dungeon guard, a low-ranking guard with little

experience, he wasn’t used to facing danger and

certainly not going against the King, but at

Keturah’s words he seemed to find strength, he

rolled his shoulder’s back, standing up his full

height and nodded to her. She stepped forward

through the doors into the great hall. It seemed as

though the entire court and council had been roused

from their beds, there were people rushing back and

forth, her father was stood at the table leaning over

a document talking intently with Benjamin, before

dismissing him with a flick of the hand. Benjamin

turned and, as he saw Ketura, he bowed and then

just as he went to leave Edward, narrowing his eyes

for just a moment before sweeping out of the main

entrance to the grand hall. Ketura took a deep breath

and walk up to her father, curtseying as low as she

could manage.

“Father, if I may ask” she said, standing but keeping

her head bowed low “what is all this commotion?

Have we gone to war?”

He was silent for a moment before answering. She

could feel his eyes upon her and fought against the

urge to look up and meet his gaze.

“The prisoner has escaped.” He said finally.

“The Prince?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“The Prince.” He replied.

She was going to have a push much harder to gain

any more information.

“I’m sure he will easily be found,” she said.

“He will be,” He said “And then he will be killed,

along with every man that aided him to escape and

all of his attendants, who are being rounded up, as

we speak.”

“But Father!” she said, looking up to him before she

could stop herself “He is a Prince, is this not an act

of war?”

He turned, staring down at her, she dares not move

as under his glare.

“The Prince as you still call him, has been found to

be a wizard.” He turned, away as if that were an end

to the matter.

“A wizard!” Ketura gasped, “But how? From what

source did you discover this?”

She felt a hand on her arm, turned to see her

mother, but threw her off and turned back to her

father. His anger was flaring red in his cheeks, but

her fear had been replaced with outrage.

“A weak maiden defeated every challenger!” he

boomed at her “Every man of superior skill and

strength, no woman of God could do this, and then

she slips through iron bars like a snake! He is a

wizard, and the council have agreed.”

Ketura felt sick, she knew this was not true, she

knew he had forced his council to come up with

something, anything that he could use to avoid

keeping to his word and handing those castles to

Perigord.

“The Council!” she spat “It took you and the

council all night to come up with the pathetic

excuse to murder him!”

She was on the ground before she realised, a sharp

throbbing pain all down the side of her face, she

choked in the pain, feeling as if her eye were about

to burst. Her father stood over her, hand still

shaking in rage. The room had gone silent even her

mother had stepped back and out of the way of the

King’s wrath.

“I should have married you off years ago.” He

growled at her, and then signalled to Edward “Take

him to her chambers and keep him there.”

Edward nodded, and helped Ketura off the ground,

escorting her out of the small door, back to the cold

stone corridor leading to her room.

“It seems as though we are in more serious danger

than I had anticipated.” She said quietly, trying to

keep calm, but there was a waver on her voice.

They reached her chambers and she turned to the

guard again.

“Thank you” she said, she tried to smile but it stung

her cheek and she left him to pace the corridor as

she entered her room. The bed was empty; and there

was a moment when wild panic twisted in her

stomach, but then she saw Williams, up and out of

bed, standing by the window.

“They wanted me dead, don’t they?” he asked,

turning from window to look at Ketura.

Ketura replied; yes.
 CHAPTER SIX

Williams nodded slowly at the news.

“I wanted to resolve this peacefully.” She said

sadly.

He seemed to be accepting his fate so easily it

angered Ketura.

“I won’t let them take you!” she said striding across

the room. “They have invented these charges

against you; they are you a wizard!” her voice was

becoming louder and angrier; Williams stepped

forward and held her arms.

“Calm yourself.” He said looking at her intently

until her anger subsided. “Now listen.”

Ketura slowly nodded.

“You have helped me so much already,” Williams

said, his voice low and urgent “there is no doubt I

would be dead without you, dead from my wounds

in a tournament and no shame or guilt would be

placed would be placed on this kingdom. You

prevented that…Now, I need to ask one more thing

of you.”

“Anything.” Whispered Ketura, feeling enthralled

by being so close to the Prince.

“There is an Army, an army of the three thousand

Men, free men who have volunteered to fight for

their country. They have followed me here and

encamped just beyond the border.

“An Army!” gasped Ketura. “But your father, he is

a man of peace he has never summoned an attack”

“My father is dead.” Replied Williams, his face

grim. “My two brothers were murdered, and my

sister is in Aragon; I am all that is left. Once I am

gone, my kingdom falls to your father and my

people become his slave.” He allows these words to

sink in before continuing. “I need to send one of my

attendants to summonthe army.”

“I can’t.” Ketura replied sadly, they were treason,

she knew she co-

Williams nodded and pulled away from her.

“I understand.” She said “You are loyal to your

father, as you should be, as would be expected of

any of his subject, especially his daughter.”

“No!” she said. “No, I am not.” As Ketura said the

words he knew she could be beheaded, but she

knew that they were true and suddenly he felt free.

“Your attendants have been imprisoned. I cannot

send them anywhere.” But she took a deep breath,

knowing that she was about to propose something

that would change her life forever, “we could

escape, together, there is a secret tunnel that goes

under the moat, we could both be free.”

Williams looked at her and smiled, reaching out and

gently stroking Ketura’s cheek.

“And then what?” she asked.

“We could be free.” Ketura repeated weakly.

“To do what?” Williams asked. “My attendants

would be murdered, and my kingdom would be

destroyed; If there is indeed a tunnel, I ought to go

alone.”
“You can’t leave me here!” Ketura felt desperate,

her only chance of escape, of freedom was slipping

out of her hand and Williams was leaving with it.

“It has saved your life, now I need you to save

mine.”

Williams looked at her; the gentle smile was gone;

she was solemn and peering at Ketura as if he is

trying to see inside her soul trying to figure how

much Ketura meant what she said.

“Then what do you propose?” she asked finally”

“Edward.”

“The young guard, Edward Bly, we shall send him

to fetch your army, and then we will lock the

drawbridge. The castle will be undefended and

unprepared, it will fail immediately.”

“Are you certain?”

“Ofcourse, I am! Edward is in as much danger as

we are, he is sure to be loyal and the drawbridge is

in the main defence, once that is gone then an army

can simply walk through the door completely

unchallenged.”

“No” said Williams reaching down and grasping her

hand “are you certain that you wish to betray your

King? Your people? Men will die today because of

your actions…are so beautiful.

At the warmth of Williams’ hand against her own

Ketura felt as though she had melted inside, she

stared into Williams’ bright blue eyes, so earnest

and full of concern, so beautiful.

“I am certain,” she whispered.

 CHAPTER SEVEN

“Do you understand?” she said solemnly.

“But ma’am,” Edward replied uncertainly “this is

treason!”

“We have already committed treason,” Ketura

replied, keeping her voice low in case their

whispered words could be overheard. “You and I

both know the King, we know he will stop at

nothing to get his hands on all the lands and castles

of Perigord, we have been at peace these last three

years, Edward, do you remember what war was

like?”

He looked at ger grimly, and then nodded his head.

They both remembered the dark days of war; calling

men from the fields to march on their neighbours,

waiting for news for days or even weeks, and the

King’s rage as he was beaten back and back by

three Perigord brothers. The young, handsome

champions took first the borderlands and then

moved into Bourges; finally demanding surrender at

the great siege, where the court spent five weeks

starving behind its own fortress walls.

“We will not go back to that.” Ketura said.

“It will take the message.” He said resolutely, and

she handed him the note with Williams’ signature

upon it. He bowed to them both and turned to go,

and Ketura realised the deed was done, there was no

going back; she had betrayed her kingdom. She felt

a hand upon her arm and turned to see Williams

smiling at her, and she felt warmth and certainly

rush through her.

“I’ll take you to the drawbridge.” She said firmly,

knowing that she was doing the right thing. “We

need to make sure they won’t be able to bring it

up.” Ketura spun around to see, standing in the

door, with his sword raised, Benjamin.

 CHAPTER EIGHT

“Princess” said Benjamin, edging into the small

room “Please explain why you are helping an

enemy to compromise our defences.”Ketura looked

from Williams to Benjamin, she didn’t know how to

explain, how to justify her actions, but she was sure

of one thing:

“The Prince Williams is not our enemy.” She said

firmly, looking straight at Benjamin as he stared at

her disbelief.

“Her family laid siege to this very castle!” He said

angrily, striding towards her “Or have you forgotten

that?

Ketura backed off as he loomed over her,

threateningly.
“Only in retaliation for what you did to us!”

Williams shouted, she had pulled a sword from one

of the racks and pointed it towards his throat.

Benjamin looked at her; a snarl on his lips, the

humiliation from the previous day’s fight was still

fresh on his mind.

“He is a wizard!” he said turning back to Ketura and

grabbing her arm, he twisted it painfully and she

cried out “you cannot believe a word he utters; now,

come with me, and you can explain this betrayal to

your father.” He pulled her towards the door and

Ketura felt powerless to stop him.

“You are a murderer and a liar!” hissed Williams.

Benjamin paused then turned to look back.

“Robert died in battle” He said slowly easing his

grip on Ketura’s arm, “I cannot be held to blame for

that.”

“It was not of Robert that I spoke.” Replies

Williams stepping forward, the sword still raised.

Ketura looked from one of the other, she had never

thought Benjamin to be a murderer, yet that would

mean Williams was lying and he couldn’t bring

herself to believe that either.

“They were accidents” snarled Benjamin “the

lances were not checked; these things happen in

tournaments.”

“In both matches!” screamed Williams, his anger

causing his cheeks to flare red and the blade of his

sword was wavering slightly, but Benjamin

remained calm.
“They should have been better at jousting.” He

spoke.

Williams snapped. He lunged at Benjamin with an

angry yell, but he simply sidestepped. He swung the

sword wildly, but he beat him back with a few

quick parries as Ketura watched in horror. He felt

helpless, not knowing if he should step in to help,

not knowing if he could. He backed away from

them, leaning against the rack of spears and swords,

thinking to run, thinking to escape Benjamin’s wrath,

but she couldn’t leave Williams, she had to stay, had to

watch. She knew Williams would prevail, she had seen

him fight, had seen his victorious, and watched with

bated breath as the two locked swords. Benjamin fell

back against the wall as Williams wielded his sword with

two hands, she brought crashing down towards him and

he barely had time to bring his own sword up to meet it.

They locked for a moment then suddenly Benjamin

lashed out with his free hand, punching Williams in the

side. He screamed as he struck the open wound and her

knee buckled underneath him. Benjamin raised his

sword to strike the last blow. Then stopped. His sword

clattered to the ground. He fell back against the wall

looking down in surprise at the spear protruding from

his stomach as he slid to the floor.

Ketura watched in horror as the realisation of what she

has just done began to sink in. He touched the spear

tentatively, but he knew it could not be pulled out, he

knew the wound was fatal he knew he was breathing

his last. He looked up at Ketura, as she stared down at

him, and with his last rasping breath he whispered.

“Traitor.”
 CHAPTER NINE

It was a cry from Williams that brought Ketura back

to her senses. She looked away from the wide open,

dead eyes of Benjamin and rushed to Williams’

side. She was in pain and clutching at his stitches.

“Are you well? Can you stand? How can I help?”

Ketura wasn’t quite sure whether to help him up, or

even if he should touch him; he didn’t want to make

matters worse. Williams laughed through gritted

teeth. “You are like a mother hen” he said “I think

the wound is not split… Help me to stand.” He put

out his hands and Ketura took it, grateful that she

had been saved. But unwilling to dwell on what had

happened. She pulled Williams to her feet and for

amoment they stood together, just inches apart, part

of her wanted to reach out and hold him again, to

feel warmth of her body against her own.

“Thank you.” Williams whispered.

“I…” she didn’t know how to articulate what she

wants to say, how to form into words the emotions

that were coursing through her. “I couldn’t let

him…” She said reaching out to touch Williams’

soft cheeks, her heart was pounding in her chest and

as she stared into the blue eyes of the Prince, she

needed to know if she felt something too. A trumpet

sounded. It was a fanfare, a warning. It brought

Ketura and Williams crashing back to their senses

and Williams rushed to the window.

“It’s one of the search parties, it must be!”

“But they can’t have found you,” Said Ketura,

confused, “You’re here!”

Williams turned to her; her face sombre.

“They must have seen my army, we need to lock the

chains and cut the rope!” he grabbed a sword

awkwardly, the wound at his side still causing him

pain “Now!” He spoke.

Ketura snapped to action. She grabbed more spears

off the rack, locking them into place on the chain

links, she hoped they would hold, hoped they

wouldn’t break under the pressure of several guards

fighting desperately to close the portcullis. But

Williams was still struggling with the rope, he

didn’t seem to have much strength and Ketura took

a sword from the rack and started hacking the other

ropes. She had only ever used a knife for cutting

meat and bread, she held it like an axe and started

chopping at the rope, but it made little difference.

They could hear shouting, and the alarm bells,

which had fallen to a slow melancholy tolling

suddenly lurched into life again, then suddenly there

were yet more trumpets and fanfares in the distance,

Ketura glanced out the window expecting to see

another search party returning, but instead she saw a

wobbling black line emerging over the hill.

Williams swept Ketura into an embrace, it was

warm, comforting and reassuring, they held one

another tightly for a moment and, as they drew

apart, Williams kissed her softly on the lips, it was

sudden and unexpected, and he drew back quickly.

Ketura stood for a moment, listening to the sounds

of the battle outside; the horse’s hooves against the

flagstones, the clashing of the swords and metal,

and the shouts, screams and yells. She thought she

should wait. Just wait in the guardroom. But she

couldn’t face turning back and seeing Benjamin.

She wanted to get as far from his body as she could.

Knights on horseback charged around, cutting down

men and women who ran from them, few guards

that had remained in the castle were now scattered.

Some were lying motionless on the ground others

were trying to shepherd peasants out of melee. But

most were trying desperately to fend off the

Perigord knights. Archers were now facing inwards,

trying to strike out at the knights, but knowing that

with every shot they fired, they risked killing their

own. But one mounted knight took an arrow to the

neck, his horse buckled and he was thrown to the

ground at Ketura’s feet, she screamed in shock as he

landed. Suddenly she felt a hand grab her arm. She

looked up in panic to see the court physician. As he

pulled her through a small door towards the kitchen

Ketura suddenly pilled back.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To safety ma’am.” He pulled her, gracefully over

the threshold into the dark kitchen. The great fire

which always roared in the grate had been hastily

put out, water and ash was spilled across the floor.

“You have found her!” her father, seemed almost

pleased to see her, his previous anger had melted

away. He was with two of his highest-ranking

knights of the castle, and her mother, who wore a

travelling cloak.

“Where are we going?” she asked, suddenly

terrified. After everything, after all she had done

and been through, she was to be whisked away to

Lord knows where.

“No!” Ketura replied, pulling away from him. “This

has to end! The killing has to stop. We have to end

this war!”

She turned and fled; running out of the great kitchen

and back into the battle still raging outside.

 CHAPTERTEN

“What are you doing?” The king snarled at her

“I’m doing what you have always taught me,

Father!” She shouted, feeling enraged and elated,

she knew she had to make a stand, it no longer

mattered that she was surrounded by knights, she

had to tell them all how she felt.

“I’m clearing away my enemies,” She said “isn’t

that what you have always taught me? If someone

stands in the way of what you want, them cut them

down!” She was becoming angrier as the words

poured out, her father looked incensed, but he knew

he couldn’t make a move, he knew it was stalemate

between him and the knights of Perigord, none of

them felt they could attack while the princess stood

between them.
“Put the sword down.” Her father said, quietly and

through gritted teeth, trying to keep his calm.

“That’s what you did to my Grandfather isn’t it?”

She’d crossed a line and she knew it, but she also

knew it had to be said. “You cut him down didn’t

you, father? Then you cut down my uncle as well

didn’t you father? You cleared your way to what

you wanted, cleared your way to the throne, and

now you are trying to clear your way to Perigord, to

take back lands that were never yours, to reignite

wars from generations ago! All so that you can be

the greatest.

“No” He shouted at her, finally snapping, he still

had the power make her jump and make her heart

beat in fear. “Not for me, Ketura,” He strode

forward, breaking rank and towering over her. “For

you.”

She pulled away and raised her sword.

“I would rather be nothing than a tyrant.” She spoke

“Ketura! Stop this now!” He yelled.

he knights on either side were looking at one

another, questioning what to do, none of them

wanted to risk starting a fight they would lose.

Ketura looked at him, not knowing what to do, or

what to say. Suddenly she saw his eyes the man

who’d play with her when she was a girl, the man

who’d taken her out horse riding, the man who

loved her as only a father could. She stood there,

holding the heavy blade to her father’s neck, while

the Perigord knights, now loyal to her for leading

them to victory, all looked at her for their orders.

“Hand over…” She said, trying to find her voice.

“Hand over all your castles and lands to me.”

“It is done.” She said, his voice sad and quiet, more

disappointed than angry.

Standing at the front and holding a sword in his

hands was Prince Williams. Ketura wanted to cry,

and scream and run into his arms, but she held back,

almost laughing in relief at seeing him again.

She looked up at Williams, seated on the white

horse, and decided that she now had everything she

wanted. Williams laughed and Ketura held him by

the wait as, together, they rode out if the castle.

They ride back to Perigord was a short and pleasant

one. Ketura felt free from restraint and duty for the

first time in her life.

 ABOUT THE BOOK

Ketura is fascinated by the mysterious Knight who

has remained undefeated throughout her father’s

tournament at Bourges. However, as the final battle

commences, the truth about The Knight is about to

be revealed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Samuella Boatemaa Agyemang is a student of the

Ghana Institute of Journalism. After her basic

education at Prempeh College Basic ‘B’ at Sofoline,

she proceeded to Kumasi Academy. She is

passionate about reading books. Samuella believes

she will be one of the best Journalists in future.

Agyemang Prempeh Emmanuel is a Prophet of God

and He also has an Associates Degree in Business

Studies from School of Business and Trade

(SOBAT) in Switzerland and a Professional

Certificate in Business Process Management from

Metropolitan School Of Business and Management

UK. He is passionate about reading books.