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Using this distraction to get free, Greyith jerked his shoulder away from the knight and dashed off, knocking a second knight onto the cold stone floor.

With a cry of alarm, the knights started chasing after Greyith, but it was too late. With all the tunnels leading through the castle's subfloor like a maze, they knew it would be hopeless. Instead, they ran back upstairs to post guards on all exits leaving the castle cellar.

Pausing to catch his breath, Greyith stopped running and listened for approaching footsteps. All was quiet. Either they're trying to listen for me, or they've gone back to get more knights, Greyith realized. In order for him to get out of there, not only would he have to find an exit, but also he would have to find a change of clothes with which he could disguise himself. There was no other way he would be able to escape the dungeon without being captured.

Wondering where to look for a suit of clothes, or even armor, Greyith checked out the room in which he was. It was quite small, with a low ceiling. The room appeared to be completely empty--except a thick layer of dust on the floor.

Oh, no, he groaned. They'll easily find me if they get some torches. This dust leaves an excellent path.

Now that his time was running out, Greyith began to feel desperate. He dashed into the next room and noticed that it had a higher ceiling. Near the top of the wall was an opening about three feet long and one foot wide, built to allow fresh air into the dungeon.

If only I can get up there, Greyith thought, then maybe I can get out of here.

After a couple of tries, he successfully pulled himself up to the opening and peered outside. It didn't take him very long to realize that he was looking out into the castle courtyard, in which a rowdy joust was taking place. Surrounding the two jousters, on all sides, was a crowd of knights and many other observers deeply involved in the bloody wargame.

Greyith knew that he had little chance of crawling through the dungeon window and escaping from the castle, much less the courtyard, without being seen and captured. But, with a quick prayer and a determined heave, he pulled himself through the window and casually walked through the crowd toward the castle gates.

So far, so good, Greyith thought. Suddenly, he stopped, turned around, and returned to the crowd of people watching the joust. Greyith knew that he would have no chance of getting past the porter, who guarded the gates, if he went through alone. Instead, he decided to go through after the game was over, with the peasants when they left the castle. After all, he realized, with all that dust he had gotten on himself, he probably did look like a peasant.

Just then, one of the jousting knights charged the other with his lance, knocking him off his armored horse. Their admiration of the winner caused the crowd to cheer loudly and rhythmically stamp their feet. The victorious knight lifted his visor and proudly paraded around the courtyard. His defeated opponent lay on the ground coughing, blood drooling from his mouth.

As the people gathered together, preparing to leave, Greyith made certain that he stayed deep within the peasant crowd.

If only I can do it, Greyith thought, then I'll be free.

The crowd surged forward, and Greyith was pressed into the fast moving current of people. Most of the peasants had to return to work in the fields, since it was only midday.

As they neared the castle gate, Greyith felt himself go tense. Now was the time, he thought. If I don't get through, I'm over with.

But, as fast as it came, it was gone. Greyith was outside the castle. He stayed with the crowd for a good distance, until he could no longer see the castle.

"Now," Greyith muttered to himself, "I'm finally free, but they'll be after me soon enough. And I can't get away on foot--I need a horse."

Greyith continued walking with a few other peasants to the local village. The village really wasn't much. Most of the buildings were small wooden huts used to house the peasants. A larger building stood at the far end of the streets.

On his right, Greyith saw a small barn-like building which probably housed some horses, he hoped. He went up to the shack right next to it and knocked on the door.

"Come on in" an elderly voice called out. Greyith opened the door. "What brings you here, my lad?" An older man with a silky white beard and twinkling blue eyes asked.

"Sire," Greyith paused, unsure of what to say. "I'm looking for a horse to use. Would you happen to have one?"

The older man looked at him, studying his face for a moment. "Let me see, I say, that you would want my horse? It's but the little thing I have."

"Please, sire," Greyith pleaded. "I don't have even a penny, but I'll pay you back later, somehow."

"Now, now, my lad. I pray that you will further explain why it happens to be you need my horse. Please do tell me." The older man looked at Greyith, the twinkle reappearing in his eyes.

"Sire, I am going to warn the king of a grave matter. His life and family are at stake," Greyith said, suddenly realizing the urgent importance of his mission. "And I am going to warn the king, now. But, without a horse, it would be futile, since the ones who wish to murder him will do so soon."

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