Pelle had a sinking feeling when he stood in his stirrups and shouted."'tis I, Pelle, Reeve of Lemdalen! Open the gate! His Grace, the Count of Rennen...erg demands entry!"They could hear movement, and slowly the gate opened. Pelle recognised one of the gatekeepers."Saints be blessed!" the man exclaimed. "I had lost all hope." What of our Lord Sigfrid and the Noble Ermegart?" Pelle asked sharply.The man sadly shook his head. "Our lord perished from the wounds he received when he rode out to save. She was doing brilliantly in school—had turned in a paper just last week that her English Lit professor wanted her to try to publish. It was a particularly inspired explication that pointed out the rape imagery in the poetry of John Donne. Yes, that was her focus right now—school, and her backpack loaded with assignments.There was just one thing to do first. Marie lingered in the literature section, letting her fingers skim along the rows of titles, pausing every now and then to take out a book. More

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