It all started that that cold night in camp. The fire had burned low and the group of us were lying around the glowing embers, with only them and our clothes for warmth. The night was still but there was a chill in the air, and none of us were asleep.

For a month or more we had been travelling, and still Balthazar didn't tell any of us the reason we had come all the way to the Netherlands.

Balthazar was the leader of our group. He controlled everything us bandits did - he sent us on missions, rewarded us, punished us. I was only seventeen at the time, but I was his right hand. From the time he had found me as a young ten year old and begun to train me, we had been, literally, 'as thick as thieves.' Not close, exactly - none of us could feel that much emotion, we weren't Robin Hood - but we saw each other as trustworthy comrades.

That was what annoyed me, really. Why had he taken me all this way but not told me where we were going, or what we were doing? Me, his most trusted ally? I scowled, and turned over. Something was up, I knew it. And why Balthazar hadn't told me, I didn't know.

At a slight rustle from the bushes I was jerked out of my thoughts. As I had been trained, I did not move, but lay still and tense, my fingers ever so slowly reaching for my pistol which lay about two feet away.
Let them think you that you are not aware of their presence, Balthazar's voice said in my head. Not until the last moment should you attack.

I heard the snap of a cracking twig and I was able to gather some information - whatever was approaching was bigger than a fox. There was weight put on that stick. But it was probably a human, because animals were not so clumsy as to break twigs when they moved. And an animal would never approach the fire. So, it was a human, and a blundering one at that, from the un-stealthy way they were nearing the camp.

My fingers at last clasped my pistol.

I glanced over at Balthazar. I could see his eyes under his black hood. He, too, had his hand on his weapon. He looked right into my eyes, and then cried, "Now!"
We leapt to our feet. By we, I mean most of us, though one or two got up rather clumsily, as they had probably been drifting off to sleep.
We faced our opponent. There at the edge of the shadows stood a short, rather round person who was panting profusely. "God help me!" He gasped, and then fell to the ground. I looked to Balthazar for instructions, and he murmured, "Tie him up."
I undid the rope from around my waist and cautiously approached the figure on the ground. He did not move, so I quickly leapt forward and wound the rope around him, tying tight knots. The man had evidently fallen into a dead faint.
"Bring him to the fire," Balthazar said, and I did so, with the help of another assassin.
It was not long before our prisoner opened his eyes. He looked around with a face of terror, wriggled slightly, and then moaned. "Oh, where am I?"

Balthazar was calmly (and probably terrifyingly, to our captive) sharpening his dagger, his face half hidden in shadow. He said, "You know better than we do. Answer your own question."
The man's plump face creased, and he looked rather like an overgrown baby. "I - I, oh please don't hurt me! I -"
"Don't dawdle." Balthazar said, and his voice was slightly more menacing. "Tell us how far we are from the castle."
The man opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, like a fish. "Ab - b - b -about ten miles, or so."
There was no visible reaction on Balthazar's face, and he did not stop what he was doing. "Who are you, and why are you here?" He asked.
Our prisoner paused, and then closed his mouth firmly. "Well, if I'm going to die I might as well do it bravely!" He said. "So I won't answer your question, but ask it myself. Who are YOU?"
I nodded ever so slightly, approving. At least this man had some courage. But then it was probably wiser to tell the truth and stay alive.
Balthazar looked up. He had a relatively normal face, with a short brown beard and a pointed nose. But his eyes stood out. They gleamed brightly green, mesmerising, but sly, like a snake's.
Our captive gulped.
"I think," Said Balthazar silkily, turning back to the fire, "That it would be better if you told us what you knew and then we let you live."
Our prisoner hesitated, but then he nodded, looking at the dagger that Balthazar was still sharpening.
"Good." Balthazar said. "I repeat, who are you and why are you in the forest at this time?"
The prisoner took a deep, shaky breath. "Well, if I must tell, here is the truth - I am here because I am fleeing the castle. I am King William's Chamberlain."
I was not surprised. The man was wearing richly embroidered clothes. However, why he was fleeing the castle I had no idea. Who would do that?
Balthazar nodded. "Go on."
"As you would know, there has been an attempted murder of the king recently. By Juan the Assassin. He failed in his attempt. That is why," The man's voice was growing steadily more shrill, "I am leaving! What if there is another attempt! I am always near the king. I could be killed myself!"
Balthazar had got to his feet. "You are a coward, and completely disloyal to your king." He said coldly. "You are a coward and a traitor!"
Our prisoner stared at him. Even I was surprised. I had never heard Balthazar so angry. And then another thing occurred to me. I had heard of the attempted murder, everyone had, but maybe Balthazar had come here to make a second attempt! I glanced quickly at Balthazar, but he avoided my eye. He looked at the prisoner and said, "Do you want to know who I am?"
Slowly, our prisoner nodded.
"I am Balthazar Gerard, the assassin." He said.
Our prisoner gasped. Then he went deathly pale.
"Kill him." Balthazar said. Someone stepped forward with a raised dagger.
I turned away.