John of Chester shook his head ruefully. "It has been a month since we took Acre, and still you will not tell us of anything that happened that day. Everyone has their tales of glory, of storming the last redoubts of the city. Except you."

Richard of Warwick picked up one of the desert robes he had acquired from the clothing that was scattered around the interior of his tent. "Boasting is not a knightly virtue, my friend. And, besides, there are things that a man should not be proud of." He examined the swathe of blue cloth, then handed it to his servant boy. "Fold this. Place it my travelling chest." The youngster gave an eager bow and hurried to do his master's bidding.

"Even so - surely you can tell a friend about what happened? How did you get there ahead of us? Surely there must be some adventure behind that, something worthy of telling?"

"No." The Golden Knight picked up another set of desert robes. This one was heavier than the last - there was something wrapped up within the layers. Richard shook out the cloth and, with a loud clatter, a silver ewer and matching goblets fell to the ground. He bent down to pick up one of the fallen items, but stopped when he recognised it. It was part of the set that he and Ikram had drunk qahwah from.

Richard turned to John. "Do not speak to me of glory." The Golden Knight's voice was low and full of sorrow. "Do not tell me about the honour of war. Instead, why not tell me of the massacre of our prisoners? Why not tell me the reason that King Richard gave for their deaths?" He thrust the plain goblet, its innards stained dark with qahwah residue, under John's nose. "Tell me why warriors such as ourselves, fellow travellers along the path of honour - tell me why they had to die? And if you cannot tell me why a thousand men were put to the sword, then tell me why just one man had to die?"

For a moment, the two knights stood facing each other: Richard's face clouded with anger; John's a mask of conflict and torment.

"If you can tell me why," Richard said after taking a deep breath, "then maybe I will tell you what I saw."

John of Chester shook his head and sat down on a nearby stool. "I can tell you why. But when I have to declare it before my friend, then it sounds ... It sounds like the excuse of a child caught with their hand in the olive jar."

"And now that we have Acre, what does our liege and king do? He decides that there is not sufficient glory in administering the city. And so he goes off to seek something else worthy of his efforts." Richard gathered up the pieces of the qahwah set, setting them gently on his camp bed.

"We are no longer needed here. There is still Saladin to be defeated and the Holy Land set free."

"Then you can do it without me."

"You will not be coming with us?" John's mouth fell open in surprise as the meaning of his friend and comrade's words became clear. "You are abandoning your oath?"

"I have fulfilled my oath." The Golden Knight continued to arrange his belongings. Some to be disposed of, some to be sent home and some to stay with him. Of the three categories, it looked like the last would be the smallest. "Acre is now in the hands of its true king. The armies of Salah ad-Din are gone to fight other battles. And I have no further appetite for slaughter."

John stood up, an indignant fire flashing in his eyes. "And you will abandon your brothers-in-arms? Those you have sworn to stand beside?"

Richard extended his arms in a placatory embrace, placing his hands onto John's shaking shoulders. "No. I have not abandoned you. But you do not need my sword for now, do you?"

"No." John nodded in agreement. "We do not. But you will be missed. Although I am sure that William of Gaunt will have something to say."

"And it will doubtless blister the ears of all who hear it!"

The two knights broke down into laughter, filling the tent with its joyous noise for a long while. John recovered first. "Aye, then I can but wish you Godspeed. But - promise me one thing, eh?"

Richard took a step back, letting his arms fall. "What?"

"That should we need you, or you need us ... ?"

"I will," the Golden Knight said resolutely. "Do not worry about that."

"Until we meet again." John extended his right hand towards Richard, who took it in a firm grasp.

"And may it be under happier circumstances."

Then, with nothing further to say, John strode out of the tent and into the afternoon heat, leaving Richard to continue with guiding the packing of his goods and chattels.

It was early evening when the task had been carried out to his satisfaction. Richard of Warwick was taking a moment to relax, to catch his breath before contemplating what he should do next. Should he return to his estates in England? Or should he see what fate awaited him here? His ruminations were interrupted by a loud chuckle from the entrance to the tent.

"So, young knight, you are thoughtful?" Emrys Wledig pulled the tent flap aside and bowed flamboyantly.

"Do not mock me, old man." Richard gestured wearily. "You are not the master of the realm of my mind."

"No. I am not." The scholar shuffled forward and pointed a bony finger at Richard. "But let me see if I can divine what troubles you. You are conflicted, hmm? You cannot decide between action and responsibility. Your mind vacillates twixt one and the other."

"You know it does."

"Then let me tell you, it does not matter."

Richard glared at Emrys. "How can you say that? After all that has happened?"

The old man smiled. "But I can. I have cast your horoscope, and there is only one thing that signifies for now."

"Which is?" Richard asked suspiciously.

Emrys struck a dramatic pose, thrusting his right fist skywards. "That we leave tomorrow! At dawn!"

"We?"

Emrys, suddenly aware of his ridiculous stance, let his arm drop. "Of course. We. There are things to be done, young knight. Many things to be done ... ."