Once in every life comes a defining moment which leaves its mark on us for ever more. For one small boy, the eldest son of his father's house, it came at the end of a banquet to celebrate his twelfth birthday.

In a great stone-floored, rush-strewn hall, beneath a massive hammer-beam roof, forty of his father's favoured friends sat feasting loudly and happily along both sides of a long oak table. But the boy, awaiting his fate at the far end, scarcely heard their laughter and shouted toasts.

Occasionally he glanced at the lines of faces lit by the flicker of candle-light, each with its looming shadow thrown against the walls by flaring tapers. Sometimes one of the many dogs lazing in front of the fire rose, stretched and wove a path through the cooks and their cauldrons to nuzzle his hand. But mostly he looked high above him where, in the glow of the fire, he could just see the doves roosting among the hams and strings of onions and bundles of herbs that hung awaiting winter among the rafters.

Suddenly there was a shout from the top of the table:

"Come forward, boy," his father commanded. "The time has come for us to hear what you have learned. You will tell us of your forebears and show us how you hope one day to match or even exceed their achievements."

Pale-faced and dressed only in a long white shirt, the boy stepped barefoot onto the table, helped by a bishop's chaplain on one side and a bearded knights' armourer on the other. Looking straight ahead he walked the length of the table to the murmured encouragement of the guests who cleared a path for him among the remains of the feast.

Reaching the end, he bowed to his mother and father, kissed the purple stone on the bishop's outstretched hand and, shivering, turned to meet the expectant faces along the table and the figures of the cooks and attendants silhouetted in front of the fire. The silence was broken by the grating of unseen bolts and a door being opened. From a far corner a steward emerged, leading forward the prettiest black colt the boy had ever seen. At first the creature shied and side-stepped on the flag-stones but soon it settled quietly at the very spot where the boy himself had been sitting.

"If you have learned well the colt will be yours," he heard his mother say.

A servant with two flaming torches raised high above his head crossed the hall to stand in front of a great portrait of a figure in scarlet robes which hung between tapestries on the wall. Someone placed a heavy mantle over the boy's shoulders to keep out the cold as he half turned to face the picture. In a clear voice, he recited the story of the man and his many virtues and accomplishments. Then the torches progressed to the next painting.

And so it continued for almost an hour as the faces of twelve soldiers, sailors, statesman, cardinals and councillors emerged from the gloom while one by one the boy explained their qualities and achievements. Finally he reached the last portrait, ending with the words:

"...he was a just man who knew well the laws of our land. He made them dutifully and applied them with wisdom and courage, without fear or favour, to all who came before him to seek remedies for their disputes. He served our king loyally and loved our mother church with faithful piety all his life and built for us who follow him this great house."

There was a rumble of approval from the table below him and the colt dipped its head. The trial was over and the boy turned nervously to his father. But from behind him came a voice:

"You have done well, my boy..." The boy turned to face the bishop. "...but answer me this: of all the faces before you, which should you most admire and most seek to emulate?"

The boy, unprepared for this, searched the now black walls for help.

"Perhaps the Quiet Knight?" he suggested uncertainly. "He was much loved and fought gallantly for freedom and gave his life for others "

A few voices from the table mumbled: "Good lad... Well said..." But there was silence from the top of the table. Then the bishop said:

"Really boy! And why not your mother and father? Do they not command your respect? Why do you not aspire to follow their example in all things?"

The boy turned briefly to glimpse the blank and disappointed faces of his parents, as distant now as pictures on a wall. Behind him he heard the clatter of hooves as the colt was turned and led away.