Beware Robert, beware! Run, run! All is lost. lost! He muttered in his sleep, words of warning, words of dispair. His eyes flickered, darting from side to side under closed lids like those of a stag at bay as the hounds taunted it.

An indrawn breath, a groan and Robert sat bolt up right, chest heaving. heart thumping, the sound of fear and flight slowly dwindling as he realised... a dream, grâce de Dieu! Just a dream... He lay back down. He was in Ireland where none knew his history, where none would challenge his right to his mother's name even though they had taken his lands and titles as well as his father's name.

Robert lay listening to the silence of the night. He had land here now, and in this land of Ireland he would make a home and a name of his own. Soothed by this resolve, he closed his eyes and slumbered once more.