The Reincarnated Prince

by Danny Macks

Chad’s Rage melted away and Mourning fell loudly from his lips. In the distance, the sounds of fighting stopped. Chad stepped into the door, saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Thesscore holding the King’s Sword. Barehanded.

  “Kneel before your king,” Thesscore said, the smile on his face making Chad’s heart freeze.

  Chad punched at Thesscore’s bare head, stepped forward as the older man dodged and slid the blade of the King’s Sword out of line on his vambrace as he rushed close.

  *****

  The knight charged back into the room, pushed on the King’s Sword with his armored left forearm then raised his elbow and wrapped the hand holding the sword in his armpit. Thesscore thrashed but the knight kept his grip. Jeb leapt and threw the scrap of curtain over Thesscore’s head.

  Jeb’s falling weight pulled the cloth between Thesscore’s chin and gorget to catch on his throat, snapping the baron’s head back.

  As soon as the cord was around Thesscore’s neck, Jeb realized he was about to die. Thesscore was huge and a trained fighter: as soon as he got one of his huge paws on Jeb’s wrist or ankle the fight was done. Jeb was as good as dead. Now. Then the knight screamed and Jeb smelled charcoal. Worse than his own death, the knight was going to die for defending him.

  Jeb pulled as hard as he could on the cords and leapt off the floor, planting his butt on the nipped waist of Thesscore’s backplate before realizing that put his ankles in easy reach and yanking his feet back.

  Thesscore didn’t notice the mistake and charged across the room at a full run like some kind of wild horse. Jeb let out a whoop. He could deal with a horse. Keep him confused and off balance. As they neared the door Jeb, hopped up from his kneeling position on Thesscore's back, pulled hard on the cord and pushed hard on the lord’s backplate with both feet until the huge man was bowed backwards and having difficulty walking. Thesscore spun and one of Jeb’s feet flew out in the air, but he kept his position. He didn’t see the knight, but couldn’t think about that right now.

  Thesscore continued the spin and again charged for the door and, again, Chad bent him backwards. Suddenly, the pressure on Jeb’s cord slacked as the huge man fell toward Jeb and landed on his back. When Jeb leapt clear, Thesscore reached for his ankles. Jeb hopped several times, trying to keep away from those arms and the cord slacked further.

  Thesscore rolled onto hands and knees and reached for his neck with one hand, sweaty and gasping.

  “You done?” Jeb asked. If he was going to die, it might as well be full of fake bravado. “This is my idea of fun. I can do this all day.”

  “I’ll kill you!” Thesscore yelled. Jeb landed both feet on his back, and drove him to the ground: breaking the lord’s grip on the cord at his neck. As Thesscore scrambled for purchase, Jeb dug both his heels onto the big man’s shoulder armor and pulled until blood ran from his hands down the cloth.

  I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die. Jeb was still pulling long after Thesscore stopped fighting. Realization slowly dawned.

  To Lady Elena he was a peasant who killed a lord and her husband. He let go of the cloth and looked around wildly for clothes, a knife, tools. He needed to run.

  “No running,” came a voice from the doorway. “We face this. Together.”

  Jeb spun and Lady Elena framed the doorway, a hand on either side of the sill. Her eyes were glistening, but she stood straight and tall with a bloody knife in her hand.

  “Did he hurt you?” she asked.

  Jeb looked down at his raw hands. “No,” he muttered, but a shudder passed through his body. Lady Elena enveloped him in her arms and a knot in Jeb’s chest unfolded. He sobbed long and hard.

  “He died for me and I didn’t even know his name.”

  “Who died?”

  “The knight.”

  “You mean Chad? He’s alive.”

  Lady Elena led Jeb into the hall where the boy from the library in the capitol was sitting on the floor with his helmet off. Nonse was gripping a tourniquet tightly, just above the elbow of his left arm, straight up in the air. The hand and forearm were missing.

  Chad winced with pain, but was conscious.

  “Inius will be here with the surgeon in a moment, dear.” Lady Elena wiped the blood off her knife with the scrap of cloth Jeb had just used to kill her husband. “Let Nonse keep that arm elevated.”

  “Mother, I was rather attached to that arm.” Despite the pain, Chad smiled at his own joke.

  “Hush, dear.” She looked around the assembled men as she put away her knife. “Not a practical bone in the lot of you.”

  Chapter Twenty – New Beginnings

  Chad woke and sang the Song of Mourning, as he did every morning lately.

  “Your Song’s changed,” a voice interrupted from the chair near the door. “Too much self-pity. I don't like it.”

  “It's not safe to be near me,” Chad whispered, his throat dry and raspy as he rolled over in his bed.

  The black haired kid from the library rose and poured a glass of water from a waiting pitcher. “I'm learning that the Songs don't affect me the way they do some other people. They affect me, but less.”

  “Good for you.” Chad reached for the cup, but the boy moved away, sat back down, and drank the water himself. “The name’s Jeb, right?”

  Jeb smacked his lips loudly after drinking Chad’s water. “You have a good memory. It’s been two weeks. Time to get up. We've both got other things to do.”

  Chad held up his bandaged stump. “I’ll get right on that.”

  Jeb rose, poured another glass of water at Chad’s bedside and took both the pitcher and cup with him back to the chair. “I’m short-handed and I need your help.”

  “There are over two thousand able-bodied men in this city. Find somebody else.”

  Jeb scowled and took another sip of water. When he finished, he sighed and rose. “Fine. I’m taking my new pitcher back to my room, then I’m coming back for your armor. Then I’m taking that.” The peasant pointed at the King’s Sword, hanging in a scabbard beside Chad’s bed.

  “You wouldn't dare!”

  “Who’s going to stop me? You can’t call for help; the guards taking care of you are deaf.” Jeb headed for the door with the pitcher and cup. “See you in ten minutes. How much do you think I can sell that thing for in Cormeum?”

  Chad heard a key turn in the lock after the door closed. He was trapped.

  *****

  Chad's hand trembled, slowing his struggles to quickly attach the armor’s buckles one-handed, when the door opened ten minutes later.

  “Good, you’re up,” Lady Elena said as she swept into the room and helped Chad dress. “A herald arrived from Vinchell and asked for an escort to the capitol. I’m sending Nonse and some of my best men with you. When you reach his lands, Equus will likely add more troops since you’ll be taking the King’s Sword with you. The faster we get that unholy thing out of my barony the better.”

  “What about Jeb?”

  “Jeb will be riding to some of the neighboring baronies to help me with a local matter. Lord Ravnos had to deal with an issue in his own barony, and I’m still dealing with the after-effects of the last harvest. I wish I had somebody else -- you’re still healing -- but I don’t.”

  Chad stretched and settled his armor into place, wobbled a bit, then kissed his mother on the forehead. “You can count on me.” He eased the worried crease between her eyebrows with his thumb. “I’ll be fine.”

  When Chad stepped into the hallway with the King’s Sword buckled at his waist, he found a pitcher and a cup waiting on a table, immediately outside.

  *****

  Jeb waited nervously for his turn in front of the throne. Lady Elena had assured him that his outfit was the latest fashion, but it looked very different from the long, flowing houppelandes that the older lords all wore. The jacket was red, embroidered in gold -- Thesscore colors -- and loose in the sleeves but tight on the chest: tight enough that Jeb had to bind his chest down to but
ton it closed. It was also short enough that his crotch and butt peeked out every time he moved. Under the brightly colored jacket, the shiny black fabric in the trews was cut diagonally, on the bias, instead of with the grain of the fabric, which Lady Elena said made it more elastic. It needed to be elastic, it hugged every muscle and valley of Jeb’s trim legs in a way that was positively obscene. Even his ankles and feet, inside black velvet slippers, was covered in the black shiny stuff. Worst of all was his crotch. With a jacket so short as to expose Jeb’s undergarments, Lady Elena had laced together the legs of Jeb’s black trews to cover his butt and added a red thing she called a codpiece to the front. Red so bright that it was almost orange. And she padded it too.

  He had nearly died from embarrassment the first time he tried the outfit on.

  “I'm proud of you Jeb. Your help has been invaluable these last few weeks, but you're going to the capital to represent the most prestigious baronies in the kingdom. When you step on that carpet and walk across the great hall, I want you to throw back your shoulders and strut like you own it. You earned your place.”

  When Jeb’s turn was called, several ladies tittered when he stood up from the bench. He took a deep breath, threw back his shoulders, smirked and turned to them. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  They blushed and hid their faces behind their fans. Jeb’s smile became a grin. Yeah, he could strut in this outfit.

  When Jeb strode confidently down the long carpet of the great hall, murmurs sprung up around him, but his mind was still on the ladies and he ignored the noise. He had strode halfway down the great hall before he realized the herald who had joined him at the door was struggling to keep up.

  *****

  With King Oberon's failing health, Chad's famous short-term defection, the herald’s report from Vinchell, and Pious' own bad decisions, support for the war was foundering. Pious was still sulking about it, but made a public show of worrying about his adopted father as an excuse for delaying his plans. After the amputation of Chad's arm, he also declared Chad's insubordination as an off-limits topic. He had even flogged a historian for writing it down. The historian seemed more concerned with the burned book than the flogging.

  That left only King's Court. Chad had been standing beside the royal throne for too long, his feet were hurting and his still-healing arm throbbed. He had stopped looking at the partitioners some time ago and was wistfully looking at the stained glass windows that lined the top of the great hall when a shadow moved.

  Suddenly alert, he stared at the shadow, trying to confirm what he had seen was not just his imagination when motion in another shadow caught the corner of his eye. He heard quiet voices all around and thought other people had seen the shades as well when the herald called out in a slightly breathless voice, “Jeb, Herald of Thesscore.”

  Thesscore. With his father dead, he should have expected Mother to eventually send someone to ask him and Deen back home. Chad’s eyes flicked from the shades to the herald. It was him.

  Despite the new clothes, Jeb looked the same as Chad remembered him: cocky and confident beyond his station. Chad wasn't sure why he had ever thought the peasant looked like a lady.

  He met Chad’s stare without flinching. I can still outride you.

  I brought the pitcher with me back to Erroll, Chad signed back. Nonse has been helping me develop a one-handed vocabulary.

  Pious glanced from Jeb to Chad at the quick hand signs.

  “I believe you came to see me, not my champion, herald,” Pious said peevishly. “How is it that you come, bearing the colors of a dead man?”

  “I come on behalf of Lady Elena, your majesty.” Chad held up several letters, each closed with a baronial seal. “And with letters of introduction from all of the lands that border Thesscore, in both Kibus and Cormeum, asking you to confirm her as baron, in her husband’s place.” The king’s herald took the letters and handed them to Chad, who met him at the base of the steps below the throne.

  “I don’t like him,” Pious muttered as Chad handed him the letters.

  “He isn’t Lady Elena, your majesty.” Chad knew, better than most, how capable his mother was. “She can do the job.” Chad gestured to the letters. “And everyone knows it.”

  Pious nodded and Chad returned to his place beside the throne. The prince leaned forward and drummed the letters, unread, on his thigh as he stared at Jeb. Then he leaned back and Chad saw an oily smile slowly spread on his face.

  “The greatest test of a lord is the loyalty of his, or her, men,” Pious said in a voice loud enough to carry to the back of the hall. “I will approve the appointment of the worthy Lady Elena … when her herald touches my sword as proof of that loyalty. Champion, present the supplicant my sword.”

  Chad pulled his glove out of his belt and stepped in front of the prince as he pulled it on with his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, quiet enough for only Pious to hear.

  Pious nodded and whispered back. “Use the real one instead of the gold blade and cut him down when he tries to run.”

  Chad nodded, but he felt like he was going to puke. He drew the King’s Sword from its scabbard and slowly walked down the steps with the blade upraised. Jeb didn’t run, or even look afraid. He looked … sad.

  Movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye and Chad saw that the shades had abandoned their hiding places to float on both sides of the hall. There were more than two dozen of them.

  “After everything, I still hoped for more from the crown than this," Jeb held up a bare hand. "Hand me my sword. Let’s get this over with."

  Looking at the peasant with new eyes, realization dawned. "You're an eclipse child."

  "Yes, so are you." Jeb smiled. "Ask me a harder one."

  Okay. He asked for it. "Why was hoperoot planted along the roads in the last twelftury?"

  "To block snow drifts."

  "What's a snow drift?"

  The smile became a grin. "Wait a few years and I'll show you."

  The End

  (Book 2, The Holy King, coming soon)