Bertelis reads over his letter in silence in the midst of the group, and his countenance falls precipitously. Visibly, he is desolated by the news.

Dazed, he takes his brother's battered and worn writing kit from a saddlebag, and begins to compose a short reply.

Father,

I am on my way home. Do not despair; the testing of our faith develops perseverance.

Your Son,

Bertelis.

This he hands off to the courier, nodding his understanding of the warning just given. He secures its passage with a few gold crowns; and then is quiet, and shellshocked, for the rest of the day's march towards Marienburg, on the way to Couronne.