Walter lifted his blade to the autumn sky.

     "I slay thee, monster," he said, "in the name of Clementine of Candlewick, whose champion am I."

     And so he took the monster's head.

     #

     The sun was setting as Walter trudged back through the mud to his horse. As he walked, dragging the Beast's severed head behind him, he examined the green silk glove that was tied to his belt. Remarkably, the glove was unstained: Walter was splattered head to toe with the filth of his fallen foe; his own blood ran in streaks down his armour; yet the glove was in pristine condition. Walter marvelled to see that not even a spot of mud had touched the green silk.

     The Beast's head was heavy, but Walter's horse was strong. Having secured the grim trophy to his saddle, Walter cleaned himself up as best he could. Exhausted, but in high spirits, he lifted himself onto his horse.

     #

     Walter rode until the light was gone, camped by a brook, woke early, and picked up his journey to Candlewick. It was an easy, pleasant ride along a shaded forest road, and he made good time. The road was not busy, but every traveller he passed was struck by the sight of the approaching knight and the creature's head at his saddle. The Beast of Boddleton was a monster of renown, well feared in the towns and villages of that part of the kingdom, and the people were overjoyed to see that it was slain.

     As he approached Candlewick, Walter came across a team of miners heading out to the nearby hills. The miners were fascinated by the Beast's head, and very glad to see that the monster was dead; word had reached them from a nearby town that the fiend had squirmed into a pit and devoured an entire team of their fellows. The miners asked Walter if he would tell them the tale of his fight with the Beast, and the knight obliged.

     "I have come now to Candlewick to return a maiden's favour," he said, when the tale was told. "This green glove I carry was given to me by a maiden of uncommon beauty, in the halls of the Shining Fortress, following the midsummer feast. The lady left me her glove as a token, that I might take courage from her memory, and so live, and return to her." Walter lifted his eyes to the horizon, where he could see the walled town rising above the trees. "I seek Clementine of Candlewick, for I have slain the Beast of Boddleton. I took its head in her name!"

     The miners cheered, waving their picks and hammers aloft, and Walter spurred his horse towards the town.

     #

     A small group of soldiers stood guard at the Candlewick gate. The sentries wore red and brown, the colours of the kingdom, and were armed with spears; seeing Walter approach, the men stood to attention and saluted. Walter returned the salute, passing beneath the raised portcullis and into the town.

     The streets of Candlewick were wide, and paved, and the iron shoes of Walter's warhorse clattered proudly on the flagstones as he made his way through the crowds towards the town square. The people called out as the armoured knight rode past, their eyes wide with wonder at the monster's head that hung swinging from his saddle. Walter returned their greetings.

     "That's the Beast of Boddleton!" called a little boy, pointing up at the severed head.

     "Yes, it is!" Walter replied.

     "What brings you to town, my lord?" cried an old man.

     "A maiden brings me," Walter called back. "A maiden most fair!"

     Trotting into the town square, Walter steered his steed towards the largest inn, dismounted, and tied the horse's reins to a hitching rail. A crowd formed quickly around the knight as people were once more drawn to the sight of the monster's head. Again Walter was asked to tell the story of his fight with the Beast, and again he obliged.

     "And now I have come to your town to return a lady's favour," said Walter, his voice ringing clear across the square. "By leaving me this glove, a maiden of Candlewick named me her champion. I seek the lady Clementine, for I have slain the Beast of Boddleton. I took its head in her name!"

     The crowd cheered and waved excitedly, and Walter turned to the inn. Brushing the dust of the road from his armour, he headed inside.

     #

     The inn was busy. It was lunchtime, the busiest time for the taverns that lined the town square. Walter made his way through the crowd to the counter. The innkeeper, an elderly man with a white beard and a bald head, hurried over.

     "Good afternoon," said Walter. "I am Sir Walter de Rigby, of the Shining Fortress."

     "Yes, my lord," said the innkeeper. "What can I get you?"

     "Information, my good man," said Walter. "I am in need of information, rather than ale. I am looking for someone."

     "Yes, lord?"

     "I seek a maiden, uncommonly beautiful, by the name of Clementine. I know only her name, and that she lives in Candlewick, or lived here once."

     "Clementine," repeated the innkeeper, frowning. "Clementine." The man's face was sunken and soft, like an old apple. "I'm sorry, my lord," he said at length, shaking his head. "I can't bring to mind anyone of that name. Although, my memory for names ain't what it was. What does the lady look like?"

     "As I say, she is strikingly beautiful," said Walter. "Her hair is dark, and long, and her eyes are the colour of honey. She has seen twenty summers, or perhaps a few more. I have met her only once, at the midsummer feast, but on that occasion, she was wearing a green silk scarf, the colour of which was a match to this." Walter indicated the glove tied to his belt, beside his sword.

     "Hmm," said the innkeeper, stroking his beard.

     "I am her champion."

     "Well, my lord," said the old man, pointing over Walter's shoulder with a crooked finger, "it sounds an awful lot like you're describing that young lady, over yonder."

     Walter turned.

     "By the throne," whispered the knight, blinking in surprise. "It is her!"

     Clementine of Candlewick looked much as Walter remembered: her dark hair had grown somewhat longer, and in contrast to the finery of their previous meeting she was dressed in simple working clothes, but her beauty was unchanged. She was smiling, engaged in lively conversation, leaning close to her companions that she might hear them over the hubbub. The green silk scarf was wrapped around her shoulders.

     Walter turned back to the innkeeper.

     "Sir, you have my thanks," he said.

     "That's her, then, is it, my lord?"

     But Walter was already gone, straightening his armour as he crossed the inn.

     The crowd of drinkers opened around Walter, parting as he strode across the floor. A knight of the Fortress was a rare enough sight, let alone one armoured and marked by combat, and the people gave him space.

     Clementine and her companions looked up as the armoured figure approached their table; standing before the dark-haired maiden, Walter dropped to his knee and bowed his head.

     "My lady," he said.

     A hush had fallen over the inn.

     "Please, rise, sir," said Clementine, when some moments had passed. To Walter, her voice was as a spring breeze through orchard blossom, and to hear it again made his spirit sing.

     Walter stood. As Clementine fixed the knight with her honey-gold eyes, he unfastened the glove from his belt and held it towards her.

     "My lady Clementine, I return this now to you, for I have slain the Beast of Boddleton. I took its head in –"

     "Oh! My glove!"

     "Yes, my lady."

     "You found it! Where did I leave it?"

     "I… you left it with… you left it at the Shining Fortress, my lady. At the midsummer feast."

     Clementine looked up at the knight, and a smile broke slowly across her face.

     "Yes!" she said. "The Fortress! Of course!" Taking the glove from Walter's hand, the young maiden shook her head and laughed. "Oh, I was so annoyed when I lost this! I must have turned my cottage upside down and back to front while I was looking for it." She sighed, smoothing out the green silk on the table. "I'm afraid I don't have the other one any more. I don't have the matching glove. I made it into a hanky for my old nana."

     Still smiling, she lifted her eyes once more to the knight.

     "Thank you for bringing it to me, anyhow, Sir…"

     A few heartbeats passed before Walter answered.

     "Sir Walter, my lady," he said. "Sir Walter de Rigby."

     "Yes, of course. We have met, haven't we?"

     "We have. At the Fortress. We were seated at the same table at the midsummer feast."

     "That's right!"

     All eyes in the inn were on the maiden and the knight. The maiden was the next to speak.

     "Forgive me," said Clementine. "I interrupted you. What were you saying about a beast?"

     Again, Walter was quiet for some moments before answering.

     "I have slain the Beast of Boddleton, my lady. I took its head in…"

     "Yes?"

     "In… Boddleton. I took its head in Boddleton."