John and Aelfred drew their swords and hurried together out of the stables. The men who had been sitting in the glow of the brazier had left hurriedly - their makeshift seats lying scattered across the flagstones of the courtyard - and their backs could be spied running pell-mell towards the main gate of the keep. Aelfred chuckled. "Shall we follow them, my captain? I am sure that they will lead us to where we want to go."

"Of that I have no doubt," John of Chester responded. "While I am sure they will be preoccupied ... ."

"There is no sense in drawing more attention to ourselves than absolutely necessary." Aelfred nodded in agreement. "Before we lose them?"

The two armed men followed quickly in the footsteps of the castle guards, into the keep and along its stone-lined passages. From ahead of them, they heard the noise of combat: the clash of steel on steel and the raised voices of men. A body of armed men were pressing hard to try and ascend a stone staircase, but were being held back by two others - one was Sir Charles, Baron of Arringford; the other was Richard of Warwick. Together, their swords wove a web of shimmering metal that turned the blades of their attackers, the ringing of their strikes echoing through the castle. Behind them was Lady Elizabeth, who was clutching a spear and using it fend off any attackers who dared approach from behind.

"On three," John instructed his sergeant. "One, two, three!" The pair launched themselves forward, screaming like vengeful harpies, and charged into the rear of the body of attackers. Their first blows took the castle guards by surprise, and they were able to down three before they reacted to the presence of John and Aelfred. Richard and Charles, now aware that their allies had arrived to aid them, redoubled their efforts and struck hard and true. The guards broke, their morale shattered, and they fell back in disarray. Richard and the two ex-hostages clattered down the stairs.

"John!" Richard called out in delight. "I believe the Arringfords have had enough of their host's hospitality and wish to unburden him!"

John of Chester bowed. "In which case, it would be rude of us to continue to burden Lord Benedict with out presence. Lord and lady - your horses await you. Please, make haste."

Lady Elizabeth threw her spear down and picked up from the floor a discarded sword. "Good sir knight, lead on. We shall follow."

As the five left the keep, they could hear the sound of pursuit behind them. They broke into a run, making for their mounts and freedom. John was the first to emerge into the courtyard. "Open the gate! We ride! We ride!"

A pair of men detached themselves from John's patrol and ran for the great gates of the castle, unbarring them and pushing them open. The others mounted their horses and rode to form a cordon to block the pursuers only now emerging from the keep. There was a moment of tension as the castle guards halted, unwilling to face alert and armed cavalrymen. They knew only too well the advantage that a man on horseback had. This hesitation was long enough for Richard of Warwick and his companions to mount the horses that had been held ready for them.

From the gloom, a figure dressed in red native garb strode out - Lord Benedict himself! The castle guards parted hastily, allowing him to pass through them. "Are you leaving so soon?" Lord Benedict called out, a mocking tone underlining the friendly choice of words. "We shall be so sorry to see you go! Can I not tempt you to stay a while longer?"

Lady Elizabeth sat bolt-upright on her mount. "Your hospitality has been somewhat lacking since we first met!" she called back. "So, we shall not draw upon your limited table any longer!"

John of Chester barely suppressed a laugh. "The Lady Elizabeth has spoken! We shall depart! Adieu, Lord Benedict!" Then, with that, he raised his sword so that it glimmered red in the light from the brazier and cried out his command: "Head for home, lads! Retreat in good order!" His patrol responded with discipline, wheeling around to form a cordon around their captain and the Arringfords, then riding in double file through the gates of the castle and into the moonlit gloom of the desert beyond. It was not long before they were just shadows against the night, and then gone.

Lord Benedict fumed. He knew what would happen now that his hostages had escaped. They would ride for the camp at Acre, where they would tell their tale to all and sundry. It would become known that Lord Benedict was a bandit - hostis humani generis, an enemy of mankind - and the wrath of Christian, Muslim and Jew alike would descend upon him. No. He could not have that. He would be hunted down like a dog and staked by the side of the road as a warning to his others, alongside his men. His fort would be razed to the ground, its stones scattered so that no man could ever make used of it again. There were now only two choices left to him.

"My lord Benedict!" One of his lieutenants knelt before him, his head bowed in shame - or so Benedict hoped. "What shall we do now?"

Benedict resisted the temptation to spit in fury at the man, to kick him hard and to vent his anger. It would do no good. Any punishments would have to wait for later. Now was the time for action! He turned to face his men. "My followers!" Benedict boomed. "Our prey has fled us, into the desert! But it is night, and they ride blind. We know the land around us. It is our hunting ground! The darkness holds neither terror nor mystery for us! We shall follow them, put them to the sword, and let their bodies rot as a warning to all who would dare cross the path of Almahrib Al'ahmar - the Red Knight!"