Sir William stepped off the ferry onto the Calais shore. A sea breeze stinking of salt and rotted fish reached his nostrils and ruffled his hair, now turning grey. 'I'm getting too old for this,' he muttered wearily to himself. His entourage disembarked unsteadily, leading horses who were rolling their eyes with distaste at the rough voyage.

'Easy there,' Roland soothed. He, and the rest of the original troupe, minus Kate, who had been too ill to travel but was infuriated because her apprentice had stolen her best tools, intent on finding their offspring, had set off from Dover the previous morning, with the plan of searching every town and tournament from here to Sicily if they had too. Geoff had had the brilliance to assume they would all be travelling together.

Being back on French soil certainly did put some fire back in the old knight's blood, but, on remembering the reason he was here, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Rose. Where are you?

Rose was in fact swinging a large and heavy steel blade at a post. Repeatedly. There were now deep notches and scratches at various heights marring the old wood, and it groaned at the unrelenting battering it was receiving for no reason at all.

'Why are you in such a foul mood today?' Greg asked, impatient. Rose had done nothing but scowl and hack at the beam all day, and it was getting tiring.

'I wonder,' she retorted savagely. 'What on earth could I possibly have to be sour about?' the question left hanging dangerously in the air, and none of her squires dared respond. They say Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; that woman scorned was nothing on Rose in a bad mood. She took another vicious chunk out of the beam.

Finally, Roland sighed. He had had enough. 'Will you stop that!? What did the poor post ever done to you? You'll snap it if you keep going the way you are.'

'No, you think?'

Roland groaned. 'Exactly what is your problem?' he said, raising his voice just enough to get her attention. 'Your plan's working isn't it? You're proving that you can be just as good as a man, aren't you?'

Rose drew herself up to her full height, every part now of the noble she was born. 'My plan might be working, squire,' she replied haughtily. 'But did you really think I intended for a lady to fall in love with me? And I'm still not the champion of any tournament!'

'To be fair,' Joe interjected meekly from the corner where he had been avoiding his lady's wrath, 'you've only been in two tournaments apart from this one, and the last one you only had to forfeit because otherwise you would have killed yourself. And that wasn't your fault, by the way,' he added hurriedly, worried Rose might fly off the handle. She didn't though, she just sat down in sudden defeat and stabbed the sword into the bare earth.

'I'm sorry for dragging all of you into this,' she apologised suddenly. 'If you want to go home, I won't stop you.'

The squires all glanced at each other in astonishment and a little fear. This wasn't the fighting spirit in Rose, or Sebastian either for that matter. Antonia knelt down and tried to comfort her. Of all of them, only she knew that it was in fact the wrong time of the month to be bothering Rose with anything.

'We're not going to quit on you, because you're not a quitter,' she reassured. 'We'll be champions, just wait and see. Just remember that you're braver than all of them put together, because you're doing something you shouldn't be able too. Right guys?' They all rumbled in general assent for her little speech.

Rose smiled slightly. 'Thanks, you lot.'

Greg coughed nervously, and warned that Olivia was on her way to the tent. 'Flouncing' was his actual choice of word. 'Oh Hell,' Rose muttered, slapping on the fake moustache. Since she found it both easier and more comfortable to dress in men's clothes, she didn't need to change. The tent flap opened and Sebastian whirled round just as Olivia stepped inside.

She bowed. 'My lady Olivia,' she gasped. 'I wasn't expecting you.'

Olivia curtsied hastily, clearly wanting to say something. Since Sebastian offered no obstruction, she ploughed right ahead with her story. 'Oh my lord,' she gushed. 'It's awful news. I have just heard that Rose Thatcher, your fiancée, has run away from home.'

Sebastian pretended to be surprised. 'Really? I don't believe she'd do something like this.'

'Well she has,' Olivia replied. 'Disgracing her entire family in the process might I add.' Antonia could see the twinge of guilt in Sebastian's features as she suddenly thought of William and Jocelyn at home with no idea where their daughter was. Or what she was doing. 'And this isn't all,' Olivia continued. 'I heard through the grapevine that Sir William has come in person to find her here in France!'

Sebastian's head shot up, her eyes wide with shock. Her father coming to tournaments? This was a disaster. She could evade her father's people, emissaries that he could send out, but he was far too sharp to be fooled. Besides, he had pulled this self same trick many years before. This wasn't good.

'Thank you for telling me this, Olivia,' she managed to whisper. 'If Sir William really is here, then it must be true. My poor Rose. What could have made you do such a thing?' She made a show of being a man falling to pieces. Not much acting was required, because she was wondering what the Hell she would do next. Olivia left, looking slightly too pleased with herself, and chaos broke out when the tent flap dropped.

Everyone started talking at once, and Sebastian ran her hands through her close cropped hair in frustration. She glared at Roland, who was wearing his 'I told you so' look. This really was a disaster. Needless to say, she resumed her battering of the post.