Haines, the dog of my enemy, and I just stood pale, silent, bayed about. What do I want from these pretenders then or now. Live their lives. His life to be his and mine to be mine. For this I am pining? He is not fortune, he is fortune’s primrose knave. Smiling at my fear. Mocking me in their house of death. Enough. Nobody wants my medieval abstrusiosities. Tell the truth. He saves men from drowning and I shake at a dog’s bark. Would I save somebody? I’m not a strong swimmer. The water is cold, soft. But spit it out, yes, I would want to. I would try. It’s his eyes, though, a drowning man’s eyes scream the horror of his death. I would drown with him. Together. I could not save her. Lost.