Inside the Golden Knight's tent, Emrys found a stool and settled himself onto it. He took a minute to cast an appraising eye over his surroundings. Richard's tent was in good order, with everything either neatly arranged for immediate use or stored in one of three iron-bound chests. "Either you treat your servants with a rod of iron or you pay them well," the scholar remarked.

"And he will earn his pay tonight."

Emrys sniffed. "I thought that I had detected an air of urgency about the camp. I will try not to delay you for too long. And I should likely be about my packing as well. In the meantime, I have something of import to tell you."

Richard started to shuck his armour, unbuckling it placing it carefully on a mannequin that stood by the head of a battered-looking pallet bed. "Aye?" he said, distracted.

The old man fumbled under his robe and pulled out a roll of papyrus. "I was intrigued by the guest who joined us the last time we talked. The one who you did for, if you recall?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Tell me - have you heard of the sect of the hashishim?"

Now that he was in his undershirt and hose, Richard stopped and paid attention to Emrys. "Should I have?"

"No. I would be surprised if you had. There are few who know of them - and even few of those who are still alive. Suffice to say, they are a sect of murderers who believe that all will be forgiven provided it is done in service of their god."

"Fanatics. That I understand."

Emrys looked around, then got up and started clearing some trinkets off the top of one of the chests. Richard protested, but the only sign that the old man had heard him was that he started to pass the young knight some of the objects. It wasn't long before Richard's arms were full and the top of the chest was clear. "So, I decided that I would cast a horoscope. My knowledge of astrology is not what it once was, but it is sufficient." He unrolled the parchment, using some of Richard's displaced possessions to hold it in place. "There. What do you think?"

Richard stared at the sheet of papyrus. He recognised some of the symbols on it and their positions, but had no idea of what they meant. "It looks ... impressive," he finally said. "So, will I find my true love on this crusade? Maybe some treasure?"

The old man gave him a withering look. "While your martial skills may be impressive, your education has been otherwise lacking. I could not determine your exact time and place of birth, so it is not entirely accurate. However." Emrys jabbed a gnarled finger at the chart, then punctuated his lecture by pointing at some of the symbols. "You are definitely at the centre of it. There is a threat against you. It is from an old enemy - an ancient evil. The threat comes from the east. I cannot be more specific, but it must occur before the moon has fattened twice."

Richard tried to think - who could the old man be referring to? "The threat is against me? Not against my beloved?"

Emrys looked curiously at the young man. "No," he said at last. "You need not have any worries on that score. However, I believe that a great sacrifice will be involved."

Richard took a deep breath. "Does your magic tell you how the danger will manifest itself?"

"No."

"Then your warning is useless. We shall soon be going into battle against the armies of Salah'a'din. I will have other things to worry about, rather than your vague pronouncements." The Golden Knight dropped his armful of belongings onto his bed. "And I must make ready for tomorrow. I thank you for your concern, but you must go."

"I am sure that I can - " Emrys began, but Richard raised a hand to silence him.

"No more. Please. I appreciate your concern, but ... ." Richard let the word hang in mid-air and glared at the old man.

Emrys sighed, shook his head, and began to roll up the papyrus. "Very well. But heed my warning - please. Battle will not be how you meet your end - if I am right." He bowed towards the young knight. "Until we meet again, Richard of Warwick."

Richard returned the bow, and waited until Emrys had left his tent before muttering, "And I hope it will not be sooner than it has to."