“Well, whose is it then?!” Demanded the scribe, recoiling, with her face white.

That’s when the tears came.

The entire royal court stood and silence as Sir Julian sank to the ground. He sobbed into his hands and he crouched by the castle. Of course they were shocked; no one had ever seen a knight cry before.

Sir Julian had blood on his hands, and a large red stain on his shirt. His beared face was wet from the tears. The tears of a man who had never cried before.

“I loved him!” He wailed, dropping to the cobblestone floors. “And I know it’s a sin and it’s a crime but…” He trailed off as yet another bout of sobs came.

Nobody moved. No one said a word. That’s when the scribe slowly started walking towards the sullen knight, empathy filling her dark brown eyes.

She, too, sat down on the stones, her skirts brushing the ground.

Placing a hand on Sir Julian’s shoulder, she whispered, “I lost my lover, too.”

Nobody in the Irish court thought they would see what they saw that day. But that day, they learned what it takes to break a soldier.