CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MacGil peeled open his eyes, awakened by the relentless pounding on his door, and immediately wished he hadn’t. His head was splitting. Harsh sunlight shone in through the open castle window, and he realized his face was planted in his sheepskin blanket. Disoriented, he tried to remember. He was home, in his castle. He tried to summon the night before. He remembered the hunt. Then an alehouse in the woods. Drinking way too much. Somehow, he must have made it back here.
He looked over and saw his wife, the Queen, sleeping beside him under the covers and slowly rousing.
The pounding came again, the awful noise of an iron knocker slamming.
“Who could that be?” she asked, annoyed.
MacGil was wondering the same thing. He specifically remembered leaving instructions wit
