his squire JONS is snoring loudly. He has fallen asleep where he 
collapsed, at the edge of the forest among the wind-gnarled fir trees. His 
open mouth gapes towards the dawn, and unearthly sounds come from his throat.
At the sudden gust of wind, the horses stir, stretching their parched muzzles 
towards the sea. They are as thin and worn as their masters.

The KNIGHT has risen and waded into the shallow water, where he rinses his 
sunburned face and blistered lips. JONS rolls over to f