Prince on the Run

by Guy Antibes

  “Open your eyes,” Brother Yvan said.

  Trevor got up on his elbows but quickly collapsed back on the bed. “That won’t work,” he said, struggling to a sitting position.

  “No melee tomorrow,” Brother Yvan said. “What happened?”

  Trevor told him about his experience at the archery range.

  “Was it an audible snap?”

  Trevor shook his head. “No. The sound was just in my head.”

  “There are all kinds of things that can go snap in a shoulder, and none of them respond to a speedy recovery. Consider your tournament over, as a competitor. What worries me just as much is who tampered with your bowstring. Do you still have it?”

  Trevor pulled it out of his pocket.

  The cleric smelled the string. “An oil of some kind. I’m not familiar with it.”

  “Sabotage?” Trevor asked.

  “Of course. It means that someone in the armory was involved, maybe a soldier or officer, and then the person who put them up to it.”

  “How do we find out?”

  “We don’t,” Brother Yvan said. “Sometimes, it is important to follow up on such things, and other times it is counterproductive. In my opinion, there are too many people coming and going to investigate. Just be prepared if it happens again. I didn’t want to talk about royal family matters in front of others. What was your thought when you saw Hyra and Lilith waving purple scarves?”

  “Betrayal, treason.”

  “What the indiscreet Windon Denton said?”

  “Why would they do such a thing? I didn’t think about it very long or very hard, not just before a match, and I certainly didn’t want to think about it when Win opened his mouth.”

  The cleric laughed. “Shutting him up so quickly was as good as that trance, or whatever Win called it, during your match. I did have some thoughts, none of them good.”

  “And?” Trevor said with his right hand on his throbbing shoulder.

  “A message to your father, for one.”

  “The succession?” Trevor asked. “Could they be letting him know they might flee back to Dorwick?”

  “Those were my thoughts,” Brother Yvan said. “The other, simpler reason was that they feel more aligned with Dorwick than they do supporting their son and brother.”

  “Perhaps both?” Trevor asked.

  Brother Yvan nodded. “Perhaps, and most likely both. I am surprised Queen Hyra would do such a thing at a public event, but people surprise me every day.”

  “Do I surprise you?” Trevor asked with a smile.

  “Yes. I never thought you would deceive your father at the jousting competition. In a way, I am appalled, and in another way,” Brother Yvan put his hand on Trevor’s right shoulder, “I’m quite proud of you.”

  ~

  Trevor felt terrible about missing the archery competition. Win told him that he had stood a good chance of winning. But he felt worse about missing the mounted melee. Brother Yvan had brought a sling for his shoulder in the morning, so Win and Trevor were spectators for the melee in the morning and for the mounted melee in the afternoon to cap off the Summer Tourney.

  His shoulder still bothered him, especially when he moved it, and once he had re-injured his shoulder at the archery competition, he couldn’t mentally overcome the pain and stiffness, at least not for the contests.

  A page found them and gave Trevor a message to come to the royal box for the mounted melee awards. Win let him go on his own. After stepping into the royal box, he realized that everyone was there.

  “The family will be together for the end of this,” King Henry said to Trevor as he turned to watch the final contestants milling around on their horses. The injured participants had already been removed from the field. “You wouldn’t have been able to dominate the field in your condition.”

  “I have to agree. I reinjured my shoulder practicing for archery.”

  “All because of that monstrous bow,” Renny said.

  “My marksmanship is calibrated for that monstrous bow.” Trevor took a seat next to his younger brother and looked at the final moments of the melee.

  He noted the Dorwickian swordsman among the final few contestants. He was taken down by the big officer that Trevor had defeated during the sword tourney, denying Dorwick of a victory. The thought made Trevor smile. He glanced at his mother. She had a purple scarf on her lap, but Trevor hadn’t noticed if she had waved it during the contest. He hoped not.

  The big officer won. Trevor had sparred with him often enough to know he had the best chance after him. After the presentation of the prize, a finely made miniature wooden mace, the stands were quickly emptying.

  “Was the tourney a big disappointment?” King Henry asked Trevor.

  “I like my new arm guards,” Trevor said.

  “And the jeweled knife?”

  Owen and Bering chuckled at the king’s question.

  The question brought a flush to Trevor’s face. “That is Sergeant Boxster’s prize that he gave to Win. I do not need such a thing.”

  “No? You risked banishment by participating in the joust competition.”

  Trevor tried to calm himself. He found it easier with his shoulder aching. “I would have risked banishment if I had won the tournament, but Boxster, uh, Master Sergeant Boxster won.”

  The king grunted. “I’ll not be having a prince of the realm put himself at so much risk for a mere contest. Don’t think about jousting in a tourney, again. You think you have gotten away with something. I’ll remember your impertinence.”

  “As you always do,” Trevor said, immediately regretting his slip of the tongue. That was something that Win might say.

  The king turned red. “You are correct. As I always do. You are dismissed, Lieutenant Arcwin.”

  Trevor quickly descended the steps to the ground below, closely followed by Renny. He had always suspected his father didn’t want Trevor to enjoy anything. Why put him in the army if his father didn’t want Trevor in harm’s way?

  “Did you really joust?”

  “Of course not,” Trevor said, not enjoying lying to his younger brother. Boxster tossed the knife to Win, not me.”

  “But your shoulder…”

  “I endured two blows during the sword competition. Two. You didn’t see them, but one of them was a person who outweighs me.”

  “I heard, but…”

  “But the injury was made much worse when I drew on my bow. You know what the pull is like. It strained my bow shoulder. Do you want to see the bruise? It’s pretty ugly.”

  Renny shook his head. “Bering said that it was to cover the shoulder injury you sustained during the joust.”

  “You mean Bering is behind all this?”

  “And Owen,” Renny said. “They badgered Father into confronting you. I couldn’t defend you in front of them, you understand.”

  “I do,” Trevor said. He put his right hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Thanks for telling me what happened. It doesn’t help fix anything, but it’s good to know what is going on. Was Father livid at what Mother and Lilith did?”

  “Apoplectic. The queen and Lilith were here to do it again, but Father put a quick stop to it.” Renny sighed. “I don’t think you will be invited to a family dinner for a long time, joust or not.”

  “What do they have against me?” Trevor asked. “I have no interest in the succession.”

  “I think Bering and Owen are intimidated, and that influences Father more than he is willing to admit.”

  “That makes sense,” Trevor said, “but it doesn’t help with the situation, does it?”

  Renny shook his head. “You were really great during the sword competition. I watched from the crowds; it’s more fun.” He looked back up the stairs. “I’ll sneak away to see you sometime.”

  “You do that,” Trevor said, jostling Renny’s hair.

  He watched his brother run up the stairs. He walked away, not wanting to overhear what Renny had to report.

  Chapt
er Eight

  ~

  B oxster took Trevor to the barracks library.

  “I don’t want to spend my recovery time reading,” Trevor said.

  “You are on duty, Lieutenant Arcwin.”

  “It’s not Prince Trevor Arcwin, sir, anymore?”

  Boxster smiled faintly. “There is more to being an officer than using a sword, no matter how well you swing it. The more men you have in your command, the less you will fight.”

  “I know that,” Trevor said.

  “Are you proficient at directing them in the field?” Boxster asked.

  “No.” Trevor looked Boxster in the eyes. “No, I’m not, and that is why I’m going to the barracks library, right?”

  “Right,” Boxster said. “I’m not much into lecturing, but I can answer questions. For you to ask the right ones, you need to study strategies and tactics for more than single combatants, and since I am not an expert, you’ll have to read what real experts say.”

  “Why can’t I just talk to them?” Trevor asked.

  “Because there aren’t any in Presidon.”

  “General Sorryn—”

  “Is a political appointee and not a field tactician. Read first, then if you can find anyone worthy, talk to them,” Boxster said.

  “But he has a soldier’s first name,” Trevor said, thinking about the name-changing convention for many in the military.

  “Anyone can change their name when they are put into a position where it gains them an advantage,” Boxster said, “and a soldier name doesn’t grant any more knowledge and ability than someone who uses their given name.”

  Trevor looked at the books. The barracks library wasn’t vast, and it looked like it wasn’t used very often, at least to Trevor. He wandered around the shelves in the good-sized room and joined Boxster when he called.

  “This set of shelves is the one you should be friends with.” The sergeant bent over and perused the titles. “This one, this one, this one, and this one will do for a start. When you finish with a volume, grab me, and I will answer all your questions.”

  “I suppose I can do that. I thought I left school back at the castle.”

  “An intelligent man never stops learning,” Boxster said.

  “When was the last time you read a book in here?”

  “Yesterday,” Boxster said with a smirk. “I spend a few hours every week. You should learn to do the same. It isn’t that you aren’t smart enough…”

  “How do you know how smart I am?” Trevor asked.

  Boxster gave Trevor a long look. “Do I have to tell you?”

  “No,” Trevor said.

  “I’ll give you three days for the first book.”

  “Three days!”

  “You will pick the thinnest one, I’m sure. Three days.” Boxster turned on his heel and left Trevor gawking after him.

  The sergeant didn’t look back, not that Trevor expected him to. He sat down and adjusted his sling and the chair to minimize the pain he still felt before diving deep into a book on battle preparation.

  Two days later, Trevor found Boxster working with Win on hand-to-hand combat. Both of them had blunted wooden knives in their hands. Trevor was jealous. He wasn’t close to doing something like that, but he liked the fact that Boxster was giving Win more attention than he would generally get.

  Trevor approached them. “I’m ready.”

  Boxster told Trevor to return to the library and make sure he had sufficient questions. When the sergeant arrived, Trevor waggled a piece of paper filled with notes. “My questions,” the prince said.

  The statement and the page of notes brought a smile to Boxster’s lips, and so the session began. Trevor asked questions, and Boxster answered the ones he knew. For the problems he didn’t know, the two of them talked about what would make a good answer.

  “Of course, you know that the facts on the ground can obliterate all this. That is true about all these books,” Boxster said.

  “I know that much,” Trevor said. “A plan is in peril in the first step. That is what Brother Yvan taught me, although he wasn’t talking about battle, necessarily.”

  “Same principle. Continue with these books until you are ready to return to duty. Maybe by then, we will be sent out in the field.”

  Trevor already knew of some battles from his research, but the tactics never went into as much detail. By the time two weeks passed, longer than Trevor had expected, he was ready to get back onto the practice field.

  Two days later, after a surprisingly good sparring round with Win, a soldier walked up to Trevor.

  “You have a meeting with Captain Boiler as soon as you get cleaned up.”

  “Is that your order?” Trevor said.

  “No. I couldn’t care less, but those are the captain’s words.”

  Trevor gave him a salute. Boxster wasn’t around, so he couldn’t tap into his sergeant’s wisdom. Trevor showed up not much later, knocking on Boiler’s door. He wondered if he would get orders since Boiler was the barracks commander.

  “Arcwin?”

  “I’m here, sir,” Trevor said.

  “Come in and sit down.”

  Trevor saluted and took a seat.

  “It is time we put you to work instead of letting you train on your own all day.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I am giving you a company to command. Two squads of ten men apiece. Each squad will have a sergeant to lead them, reporting to Master Sergeant Boxster, overseen by you.”

  “I’ll be moving from the barracks, then?”

  Boiler nodded. “You’ll be reporting to Red Forest Garrison in the south. Will you be able to handle living outside of Tarviston?”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Good. Here are your orders. You should get yourself a portfolio to keep such things. Master Sergeant Boxster will help you with that.”

  “Can I take my squire?”

  “Denton?” The captain bit his lip. “Leave him here and let him train more as a soldier. He’ll be more useful to you that way. You can take him on your next assignment.”

  Trevor wanted to protest but remembered he was in the army and questioning orders wasn’t something an officer did, especially an officer on his first assignment.

  He found Boxster working with Win.

  “I have some good news and some bad news.”

  Win grinned. “Good news, first.”

  “Boxster and I will be heading to Red Forest to join my new company.”

  “That’s great. When do we leave?” Win asked.

  “The bad news is you will stay behind and get soldier training.”

  “What is bad about that? Right now, I’m stuck in the barracks stables. It’s like I’m getting a promotion.”

  Trevor smiled. “Then I suppose I have good news and good news. Make sure you train hard so you can help me when you join me later.”

  “I can do that.”

  Boxster nodded. “Let us all make the most of this opportunity. I, for one, will be glad to leave the royal barracks.”

  ~

  Trevor stared at the message in his hand. Renny said that he wouldn’t be attending family dinners again, and yet, here was an invitation. If his father weren’t the king of Presidon, Trevor would have ignored it, but as it was, he looked at the summons as a curiosity. He had to go.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Boxster said when Trevor showed him the invitation. “Brother Yvan offered us some healing salves and potions to take with us, so I have a pass into the castle. You know where the Dryden chapel is?”

  Trevor nodded. “I’ve been there many times. It’s not quite on my way,” he said, “but if we leave a few minutes early, I can take you there. That is easier than giving you directions.”

  Boxster smiled. “When do we leave?”

  “Now would work. One doesn’t want to be late for family dinners. Father insists on entering last.”

  Boxster wasn’t comfortable wandering around the castle without his sword, for som
e reason, so they both walked through the practice field and into the castle wearing their weapons. Trevor typically wore a simple knife, but he didn’t want to look as if an armed guard was accompanying him, not after he had won the sword competition a few weeks previous.

  The chapel was on the other side of the castle from the practice field, so they passed through the tower that Trevor used to call home. Trevor looked up the stairway that led to his chambers, wondering what his life would be like if Dryden hadn’t granted him martial talents.

  About the place where Trevor might have turned to the dining room, he heard angry voices ahead.

  “Trouble,” Boxster said, drawing his sword. Trevor made sure he could draw his sword quickly, but he couldn’t imagine a sword fight inside the castle. They rounded a corner to see Lilith and Wynn surrounded by men with naked weapons at the intersection of two corridors.

  “Where is your brother?” one of the men said.

  “We’ve told you,” it was Wynn’s voice, “he doesn’t attend family dinners anymore.”

  Another of the guards said, “He will be along. Head down the corridors and lure him here.”

  “It is a trap,” Boxster said in Trevor’s ear.

  Castle or not, trap or no trap, his sisters were in danger. He extracted his sword from its sheath and grabbed his knife.

  They walked more quickly, and Boxster dropped behind Trevor as they reached the assassins. “Drop your weapons,” Trevor said.

  “You think you can defeat us all?” one of the assailants said.

  “Without question. Do you know who I am?”

  “The gimpy prince. It doesn’t matter that you won the sword contest. Your shoulder is still bad.”

  “You are going to find out,” Trevor said.

  “That suits us, although it will cost our employer a bit more seeing that you are wielding a sword.”

  Trevor didn’t wait another second and began his attack. For a moment, he wondered if Boxster had abandoned him. Could his sergeant be one of them?

  He turned to fight another when Boxster struck the opponent down.