In the aftermath of Octavian's escape, rumors swirled around. It was impossible to believe half of them, yet they stuck around like swarms of unwanted flies, buzzing to be noticed. Some were plausible: Octavian had bribed his way out of jail, Octavian was friends with the jailer, Octavian had picked up a fallen key. Others were ludicrous and these colorful tales proved to be the most popular.

       "At the well I heard Drew swearing that Octavian had sold his soul to the devil in return for his freedom," Hazel told Frank one evening as she stirred soup.

     He was in the process of kneading bread. Being a miller's son, he had grown up marveling at the magic of flour under his mother's guiding hands. "You'd think she'd be more careful about gossiping after the dunking," Frank said.

      Last fall, she'd been punished for gossiping about the paternity of a well-known noble. Though she may have been right that his mother was a bondswoman, Drew had been caught and publicly dunked into the river. That had not, it seemed, quieted her tongue for long. "Octavian's escape was bound to cause gossip," Hazel commented. "I'm just glad neither of us have been blamed."

Frank shivered slightly as he remembered the cold floor seeping away his warmth and the hard walls hemming him in. Part of him didn't blame Octavian for scampering away. If he'd had the chance, he might have too.

***

"Keep your eyes closed," Frank said.

His hands were over her eyes, but he wanted to make sure she didn't peek. He'd been planning this surprise for his wife for weeks and it had finally come to fruition. "Are you going to tell me where you've taken me?" Hazel asked.

He'd taken her to the well and then told her he had a surprise.The ground beneath their feet was flat and springy with lush grass. Combined with the clear blue sky and gentle sunshine, it was perfect for what he had in mind. "Alright," Frank said. "We're nearly there."

He saw Michael approach and his heart lurched for a moment even though he'd been expecting him. Every time he saw the knight's face, he remembered the cold, lonely cell. "You've been leading her blindly here?" Michael asked.

"It's a surprise," Frank said defensively.

"Can I see now?" Hazel asked.

They were still a couple minutes of a walk away, but Frank withdrew his hand. Hazel blinked her eyes open and a large smile slowly overtook her face. With a bolt, she dashed off to the wooden stables. Frank and Michael jogged behind her.

Hazel eagerly Frank in the sight of the horses. "Am I allowed to pet them?" she asked Michael.

He nodded. "I can introduce you to them."

He showed her Blackjack, who eagerly snuffed oats from her hand. Then there was Scipio who whinnied with pleasure as she stroked his brown head. One by one, Michael introduced Hazel to the horses and they warmed up to her like butter on a frying pan. Finally, there was only one horse left. "You shouldn't touch him," Michael said.

The horse was a gorgeous brown stallion with dark brown eyes and a black mane. He nickered and pawed the ground with one hoof. "Why not?" Hazel asked, her golden eyes aglow with longing.

"Arion is . . . unpredictable," Michael said. "The last knight who tried to ride him ended up with three broken bones. He's still on the mend."

            Hazel reached out a hand and before Frank could react, she was stroking Arion's forehead. The horse whinnied and Hazel grew bolder, scratching his ears. Arion's only response was to move closer to the edge of the stall, so Hazel's soft hands could bless more of him.

     Michael's eyes were as large as coins as he watched the scene unfold. "I can't believe it," he muttered as Hazel tickled Arion's chin. "No one here can so much as touch him without getting bitten. I've almost lost fingers to him."

       "Really?" Hazel asked. "He's as sweet as can be."

      Arion nickered. Frank didn't know horse, but if he had to guess, Arion's words weren't church-friendly. Still, they seemed more of a response to Michael's words than Hazel's presence and his wife was happier than he'd seen her in weeks. He cleared his throat. "Michael, can we do the final part of the agreement?"

       Hazel looked up, her hands still on Arion. "What agreement?"

       "Your husband pulled some favors so that you could ride a horse," Michael replied.

      Hazel's luminous eyes turned to her husband. "Thank you. Oh thank you! How did you know I've always wanted to ride a horse?"

      Frank was smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. "I saw the horses you sometimes drew in the dirt and so I asked Nico."

     Hazel stepped towards her husband and hugged him. He felt as if his heart would ascend to heaven — that was how happy he felt. Their moment was interrupted by Arion's nickering. Hazel turned to look at the gorgeous stallion again. "Could I please ride him?" she asked Michael.

    The knight frowned. "Absolutely not. He's wild and unpredictable. None of the knights dare ride him — to hand over an innocent damsel to such a brute — inconceivable! You can ride Scipio or Blackjack, but not Arion."

     Hazel put her hands on her hips. Even on her tippy toes, she was almost a head shorter than Michael, but her eyes burned with determination. "You said that no one rides him. He must be sick of being cooped up. It will do him good to get some fresh air and exercise."

    Frank could see Michael faltering. "She has already shown an aptitude with horses," he reminded the knight.

      Michael chewed his lip. "I fear that Arion will not behave himself."

     Arion swished his tail, but remained otherwise quiet. The other horse continued to whinny and neigh in their stalls, but Arion remained defiantly silent. I've never seen him act like this," Michael admitted. "Alright, I'll get his saddle."

    Hazel met her husband's eyes, both of them grinning in victory.