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decline.
    Eventually there were only half a dozen of the water warriors left. They hurriedly exchanged words as they scanned the room and realised their reduced numbers. They seemed to be pressing for a withdrawal. Together they all jumped in, melting into the water before Chonrad’s eyes. Within seconds, they were gone.
    The Militis, Laxonians, Wulfians and Hanaireans who were still standing watched as the waters around them began to recede, the water withdrawing into the channel, although the floor was flat and there was no obvious gradient to cause the water to flow back. Within about a minute, the floor was clear, and the river channel flowed merrily along in its usual manner.
    â€œRoots of the Arbor,” swore one of the twins, his voice loud in the sudden silence that had fallen on the Curia. “What in the name of Animus were they?”
    Chonrad gradually lowered his sword to the ground. Everyone did the same, turning to view the floor of the Curia and see what damage had been done.
    Immediately, Procella saw Dulcis and, with a cry, ran over to her and knelt by her side. Chonrad walked over to them. “I am sorry,” he said. “I saw her go down but I could not get there in time.”
    Procella bent her head over the Abbatis, and he thought she was crying, but when she lifted her face he saw that anger and not grief was her emotion. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet. Marching into the centre of the circle, she sheathed her sword as she looked about, counting the dead. Chonrad joined her. Hariman had fallen, as he had feared, and two other Laxonian lords had not survived. Wulfengar had fared little better. Raedwulf, though not yet dead, had received a deep wound to his stomach, and from experience Chonrad knew he would not last the night. Kyneburg and Leofric lay where they had been killed. Only Grimbeald still stood, blood running freely down his face from a cut he had received on his temple.
    Of the Militis, Chonrad spotted four knights on the floor. Apart from Dulcis, none were known to him. The twins and Beata were still on their feet, and so were half a dozen others, although several were wounded.
    â€œHas anybody got even the faintest idea what just happened?” asked Valens, looking at the survivors, his hands on his hips. No answers were forthcoming. Eventually he held up his hands in defeat. “We can debate the whys and wherefores of this later – for now we must assess the damage and stop it happening again.”
    â€œWe should close the culvert outside the walls,” said Procella, “stop the flow of water into the Baillium for now. And we should raise the drawbridge – if it has not been done already. That way they will have to attack Heartwood the old way – by siege.”
    â€œGood,” said Valens. He walked over to the entrance and pushed aside the screens. Chonrad saw the look on his face before he saw the view outside. It was enough to make him run over to look out at the scene.
    The rest of the Baillium looked as if a tidal wave had hit it. Tents had been flattened, buildings were in ruins, horses lay dead where they had drowned, and there were bodies all over the place. Rain continued to hammer down on the scene, washing it in a dull grey light.
    The rest of those still standing in the Curia joined Valens at the door. They looked out at the detritus, frozen for a moment in shock. Chonrad stared at a limping figure coming towards them and recognised Fulco. He ran towards him, and the two knights clasped hands. “I am glad you are safe,” Chonrad said.
    Fulco signed something and Chonrad chuckled.
    â€œWhat did he say?” asked Procella.
    â€œI cannot repeat it here,” Chonrad said wryly. “Let us just say it involved a swear word or two.”
    The knights around him laughed, clearly as relieved as he was that they were alive. Their laughter died away, however, as they continued to survey the scene, seeing the number