That night, Richard Fowler had a restless sleep. He wasn’t sure why. Camp life was always difficult. There were always noises. Men could be moving about. Units were always preparing for battle. The horses moved about restlessly. The siege machines could be pounding the walls of Acre day and night. Smells that only one in a military camp would know could suddenly become so strong that they became overwhelming. But this was different. Richard had become accustomed to all of those noises and smells. He had been traveling and living with the army for well over a year now. What was it? What was bothering him? He sat up from his bed roll and removed his blanket. Cobbin was resting peacefully next to him, as always. There was Barrett and Peter on the far side of the tent. Sean was sleeping as he always was. Richard thought to himself Sean always rested so peacefully no matter the circumstance or condition. Richard could only shake his head. He moved his hand and touched his bow and quiver. They were there, where they should be. All seemed in place. Fully awake, Richard thought he heard the hoot of an owl, and some rustling? Was that a hoot again, as he questioned his senses? He slowly got up making his way to the tent flap. Standing there quietly, he stood looking out, listening intently. The camp looked to be in order. Tents dotted the landscape for as far as he could see. Fires were smoldering as smoke slowly filtered up into the night sky. The stars could be seen as the moon had not yet risen. Sentries could be seen in the distance. The walls of Acre were to be seen in the distance with fires glowing behind them, as well as on some of the battlements. The fleet was there floating peacefully just off shore in the harbor. Suddenly, there it was again, the hoot of an owl. Richard stepped out of his tent to look around. Where were the nearby sentries? There were none! That smell! Richard knew it, but from where? It wasn’t the usual camp smell. The dead Saracen from the battle along the Belus River. He had been next to him, up close. He smelled him. Richard smelled that smell now. Saracens were in the Christian camp! The hoot of the owl. That wasn’t a true owl. He would know an owl. He was familiar with owls in England. Cobbin and he used the hoot of an owl as a signal between them. They were experts in its use. Surely, owls in the Levant are not that different from owls in England Richard thought to himself. His mind began to race. Saracens! Richard returned to his bedroll and grabbed his bow and quiver. His bow was strung in an instant. “Cobbin,” he shook his friend awake, “there are Saracens in the camp!” Cobbin was groggy, “What?” “Saracens!” Richard repeated with a shout. “Here in the camp, wake the men, now!” Suddenly, Richard was gone. Outside the tent. He was yelling for all to hear. “Alarm, alarm!” There on the ground lay a sentry. Checking him, he was dead, his throat cut! Cobbin was now next to Richard. “Spread the men out. Move by the two’s. One shoots, one covers. We’ll move toward the king’s tent. They’ll be after the king!” Richard stated emphatically as he looked about for the enemy. Cobbin was able to wake twenty archers. They moved forward with Richard as one through the camp toward the king’s tent. At a slow gait they moved as Richard called again, “Alarm!” as men began to awakened from their sleep. Suddenly, two Saracens bolted from behind a tent to Richard’s right. Several arrows were loosed, and the Saracens were downed. Moving to them, Richard looked to them, confirming what he already knew. Saracens were making an attempt on King Richard’s life! Moving forward with his men, Richard continued to call the alarm. To his left and right, he could hear his men loose arrows at the enemy within their camp. Arriving within twenty yards of the king’s tent, Richard and Cobbin loosed arrows almost simultaneously that struck the last Saracen, killing him instantly! Suddenly, emerging from his tent with his personal bodyguard was King Richard wearing only his tunic, sword in hand. Laying at his feet was the dead Saracen. His fresh blood staining the sand. Soon, Sir de Thornham and Sir de Ferrers were there with their Knights Templar. The camp was aroused. All of the sentries and tents were checked. Ten sentries were found to have been silently slain. Their throats cut. The attempt on the king’s life was foiled. With the coming dawn of that morning, King Richard summoned Richard Fowler and his archers to his tent. There, standing on one side before the king was Sir de Sable, and on the other was Sirs de Thornham and de Ferrers with a contingent of their Templars. Ordered to line up opposite them was Richard Fowler’s archers, headed by Cobbin. Richard was ordered before the king. As the king spoke in French, Sir de Thornham translated in English, as all present spoke and understood one language or the other. Looking about him at the group of gathered knights and archers, King Richard looked stately in his red surcoat with three crouching yellow lions. On this occasion the king was also wearing his sword and crown. “I have known Richard Fowler for a short time,” King Richard began. “In that time he and his archers have proven themselves to be the best archers I have ever seen in battle. Their distance, power and accuracy are unequaled. Last night, Richard was awakened, as he says, by the unusual ‘hoot’ of an owl. How appropriate, his surname being Fowler. Investigating, he found a nearby sentry had been silently slain. The Muslims were making an attempt on your sovereign’s life. Richard aroused his men, and the camp, killing the Saracens before they could complete their evil task. Step forward Richard Fowler of Buckingham, and kneel.” Removing his sword from its sheath, King Richard placed it on Richard Fowler’s left shoulder and stated, “I change your crest from the hand and the lure, to the vigilant owl.” Moving the sword to his right shoulder, King Richard stated, “Your motto forever will be in Latin, ‘Sapiens Qui Vigil at’, being translated, ‘He is wise who watches’.” Removing his sword from Richard’s shoulder, King Richard stated in his loud and resounding voice, “Arise, Sir Knight, Archer of the Realm!” Cheers broke out among the ranks of the Knights Templar and Richards own archers and all those present. King Richard presented Sir Richard Fowler, Knight, to all before him. He would henceforth be known as Sir Richard Fowler, a Valiant Warrior, and Knight of the Third Crusade!