The Red Fox Clan

by John Flanagan

  Horace was a staunch egalitarian. He had no use for high-flying titles that he considered he hadn’t earned.

  Sir Gerald nodded several times. “Yes, my l— . . . Yes, Sir Horace,” he amended. He found it difficult to believe that a man married to the future queen of the realm wouldn’t adorn himself with titles and decorations. But he’d heard that Sir Horace was, at heart, a simple, unassuming man. Unassuming, perhaps, but still the deadliest knight in the kingdom.

  Horace nodded and moved off. He’d seen Maddie through the crowd, heading for the archery range at the foot of the slope, where the ground leveled out and allowed room for targets and butts to be set up.

  Maddie had paid the stallkeeper a five-pennig piece for three shots and was studying the bows and arrows available for use with a critical eye. Several of the bow limbs were warped, the weapons being not much better than the one that had been used to threaten her the previous day. The arrows were missing fletching—most of them had only two vanes attached, and many of the shafts were twisted.

  Most of those paying to compete didn’t seem to notice. Their eyes were on the array of rich prizes that were available for a good score.

  Bows twanged and arrows skittered off toward the targets thirty meters away. Many of the arrows twisted in flight and slid past to impact the straw bales acting as a backstop behind the targets. Others plunged downward after only a few meters, burying their points in the soft turf. The married couple running the stall looked highly pleased with the results so far. No good archer would attempt to shoot with the shoddy bows they had on offer, which meant their customers were all people who knew little or nothing about archery.

  Maddie selected a bow that had more or less even limbs, with only a slight warp in the lower one. She scanned the arrows on offer, and quickly chose three that were almost straight and had full sets of flights. She tested the draw weight to the bow. It couldn’t have been more than thirty pounds. She’d need to aim high over a thirty-meter range. She set an arrow on the string.

  “Three arrows in the red circle to win a prize, my lady,” said the stallkeeper’s wife. The red circle was the innermost circle of the target.

  “Don’t show off,” said a voice close by.

  She turned and saw her father standing just behind her.

  “Remember,” he continued, “you’re supposed to be a helpless young maiden, not a dead shot.”

  She smiled lazily. Then, barely seeming to aim, she drew and shot in one clean movement. The arrow thudded into the center of the red circle.

  “Oooh! I hit it! I hit it!” she squealed in what she imagined sounded like girlish excitement, dropping the bow and clapping her hands with joy.

  Horace raised his eyes to heaven. “Ham,” he said softly.

  She grinned at him and took up her second arrow, noting that while she had been looking away, the stallkeeper had substituted a very warped example in place of the shaft she’d selected. She nocked and drew back, holding the bow awkwardly and pinching the nock of the arrow between her forefinger and thumb. She let her bow hand waver with the strain, frowned heavily and aimed for a dead-center shot, trusting that the arrow would never manage such a result.

  She shot. The arrow flipped away, twisting in the air so that it flashed past the right side of the target, burying its head in the wall of straw bales behind it.

  “Oooh! I missed!’” she squealed in disappointment. Horace rolled his eyes again. “Is there a prize for hitting the hay bales?” she asked hopefully.

  “Three arrows in the red circle for a prize, my lady,” intoned the stallkeeper’s wife stolidly. Surreptitiously, her husband was reaching for the remaining straight arrow, hoping to substitute another bent shaft. Without seeming to notice, Maddie reached down and picked up the arrow before he could take it. Smoothly, she nocked it and shot. This time, the arrow thudded into the red circle—of the target next to hers. She turned a winning smile on the stallkeeper.

  “Is that worth anything?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Three arrows in your own red circle for a prize, my lady,” he said, offering her three more shafts. “Care to buy another three?”

  She shook her head. “I think I had beginner’s luck,” she said, smiling sweetly. “And the bows seem awfully dangerous.”

  Beside her, Horace groaned. She gave him a conspiratorial smile, and they walked away, arm in arm, heading back up the slope toward the castle. The afternoon was drawing on, and the shadows were growing longer. There was a cool nip in the air as well.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. It’s fine to see everyone again. A lot of old faces I’ve been missing.” She looked around the crowded park, smiling happily. She knew that in a couple of days, she would become bored with the restrictions of castle life and her position, and be longing for the freedom and activity of life as a Ranger. But for now, she was content.

  “You look as if you’ve used a bow before,” a voice said be-hind her.

  She turned to see the speaker and was pleasantly surprised. He was in his mid-twenties, tall and lean, with broad shoulders. He was clean-shaven, with a strong, square jaw, straight nose and even, white teeth—which she could see because he was smiling. He was handsome, undoubtedly so. His hair was dark blond and slightly shorter than was fashionable. His eyes were clear blue, with a mischievous twinkle to them. It was that, she thought, more than anything else that made him attractive. She noticed he was dressed in the uniform of the palace guard—a captain, judging by the silver rank insignia on his right shoulder.

  Instinctively, she liked him.

  “Just luck,” she said, returning the smile. “Beginner’s luck.”

  He cocked his head to one side, and those eyes told her he didn’t believe her but he’d let her get away with the pretense.

  “If you say so.” He nodded a respectful greeting to Horace. “Good afternoon, Sir Horace,” he said. “I take it this is the Princess Madelyn we’ve been waiting for?”

  “Afternoon, Dimon,” Horace replied. “Yes, this is her. Maddie, this is Dimon, one of our brighter young officers. Dimon, this is Princess Madelyn.”

  Dimon came to attention and bowed his head briefly in her direction. Maddie was pleased he didn’t perform an elaborate sweeping bow with one leg pushed forward and his arm tracing a half circle in the air. She was always vaguely suspicious of such overblown actions.

  “Delighted to meet you, Your Highness,” he said. His eyes continued to twinkle, as if he were sharing some secret joke with her. His manner was friendly but respectful. He wasn’t overawed by her rank or the presence of her father. She liked that. Dimon was obviously a young man confident in his own abilities.

  “Call me Maddie,” she said, inclining her head to him in return. “All my friends do.”

  “Then I’m pleased to be included among them,” he said. “I hope I’ll see more of you while you’re back with us.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Maddie said.

  Horace had been eyeing the two of them during all this. They were obviously attracted to each other. Not surprising, he thought. They were both attractive young people. He felt a surge of fatherly protectiveness. He hadn’t had to deal with Maddie and boys before. It was a new experience for him.

  “Perhaps Dimon will find time to take you hunting while I’m gone,” he said.

  “I’ll make time,” the young captain said. “I’m eager to see you shoot again—with a decent bow next time.”

  “That first shot was the merest fluke,” she said. “Actually, I prefer the sling as a weapon.”

  Dimon nodded reflectively. “Like your mother,” he said. “I hear she’s an excellent shot.”

  “I’m better,” said Maddie boldly. “But then, I have more time to practice. I’m not busy running a kingdom.”

  “I hope to see you demonstrate your skill,” Di
mon said. He looked to Horace. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’m on duty at the fourth hour, so I’d better get back to the castle. Princess Maddie,” he said, “I’ll be seeing you again.”

  “I look forward to it,” Maddie told him.

  Dimon turned and strode away toward the castle, his long legs eating up the distance. Maddie looked at her father, noticing the slightly bewildered look on his face.

  “He’s nice,” she said. “Where did he come from? I don’t remember him.”

  “He joined us about six months ago,” Horace told her. “He’s very bright. He’s already been promoted twice.”

  “Will he be going with you and Gilan?”

  “No,” her father said. “He’ll be here in command of the garrison.”

  Maddie’s smile widened. “Good,” she said.

  9

  There was a lot of catching up for Maddie to do over the next few days. First and foremost, she wanted to see her grandfather. He was in a sunny room on the fourth floor, where he stayed bedridden for most of each day. She checked with the medical orderly on duty in his anteroom to make sure he was awake and she wouldn’t be disturbing him. Then she tapped lightly on the door and entered.

  She was shocked at how old he looked. Duncan had always been a big, cheerful presence, with a personality that seemed to fill any room he was in. But the weight had fallen off him so that he was a shadow of his former robust self. His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were sunken in his face. And his hair, which she remembered as a distinguished salt-and-pepper color, was now white.

  But the smile was the same. He was delighted to see her. They had always been close. She perched on the edge of his bed and they talked for an hour or so. He quizzed her keenly about her training and her progress in the Ranger Corps. She discovered that he heartily approved of her decision to stay with Will after her first year.

  “You’ll rule this country one day,” he told her. “Your time as a Ranger will be more use to you than any amount of needlework and ladylike skills. You’ll need to be able to lead men, to command in battles and to plan strategy. Nothing will teach you that better than Ranger training.”

  Duncan had a high regard for Will and Halt. Halt, of course, had been one of the first Rangers to support him in his battle with Morgarath long ago. And Will, as an apprentice, had been instrumental in foiling Morgarath’s final attempt at taking the throne.

  She spent a pleasant hour with him, regaling him with tales of her adventures with Will—of brigands and highwaymen outwitted and captured, and Hibernian pirates who insisted on using the west coast of the kingdom as a sanctuary from their own officials, and who had to be discouraged from time to time. She told the stories with a rich vein of self-deprecating humor and was pleased to see the light in her grandfather’s eye and hear his deep laughter as she made herself the butt of many of the stories.

  Eventually, she noticed that he was tiring. He smothered a yawn once or twice, and she realized she should let him rest. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and took her leave. As she reached the door, he called her and she turned back. He waved a hand at her.

  “Thanks for coming, Maddie. Come again anytime.”

  “I will, Grandpa,” she promised. Then his eyes slid shut and his breathing became deep and regular.

  Back in the royal apartments, she found a brief note from Gilan.

  Riding kit. Stables. Eleventh hour.

  She glanced at the water clock set by the window and realized she had less than ten minutes before the deadline he had set. She quickly changed into riding gear—as befitted Princess Madelyn, not Ranger Maddie—and made her way down the stairs in a rush, erupting from the main doorway into the courtyard and running full tilt across the cobbles to the large stable building.

  Gilan was waiting for her in the dim, shady interior. She noticed with some surprise that he had Sundancer and Bumper both saddled, along with Blaze, his own Ranger horse.

  He gestured for her to mount Sundancer and swung up easily into Blaze’s saddle. Bumper, ears pricked and alert, followed them as they trotted out of the stables and across the courtyard.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Gilan held a finger to his lips in a signal for silence. “When we’re outside,” he said.

  They trotted across the drawbridge, the hooves of their horses clopping and clattering in their three separate rhythms. Then Gilan swung southwest.

  “I thought you’d want to ride Bumper while you’re here,” he said.

  She nodded confirmation of the fact. “Of course.”

  Once they were in the trees and hidden from the castle, she switched horses, swinging into Bumper’s saddle with a satisfied sigh. She had missed her horse over the past few days.

  “Right,” Gilan continued. “Well, we could hardly have people querying why you’d ride such a scruffy little barrel when you had a perfectly good Arridan at your disposal.” He nodded toward Sundancer. True to his name, the Arridan’s glossy coat gleamed in the late morning sun.

  Bumper snorted indignantly. Scruffy little barrel indeed!

  Gilan turned and looked suspiciously at him. Like all Rangers, he talked to his horse and believed the horse talked back. But like all Rangers, he never mentioned it to anyone else, and he wondered if other Rangers and their horses had the same communication. He suspected that Maddie and Bumper did, but it would never do to ask.

  “So?” Maddie said, prompting him. She’d noticed he was distracted from his train of thought, but didn’t know why. He recovered himself hastily.

  “So I’ve arranged for a farmer and his wife who live nearby to keep Bumper in their barn while you’re here. You can ride out to their farm on Sundancer, switch horses and explore the district on Bumper.”

  She grinned, delighted by the idea. She had been wondering how she would spend time riding Bumper while she was here. As he’d said, it would appear suspicious if she ignored her supposedly superior Arridan to ride what appeared to be a shaggy pack pony.

  “Who’s this farming couple?” she asked.

  “Warwick is a little more than a farmer,” Gilan said. “He’s actually one of my intelligence agents, and he keeps an eye on things in the area, lets me know if anything suspicious is going on. He’s a very useful fellow. Louise, his wife, is a skillful observer as well.” He paused a few seconds, then added, “They know you’re with the Corps, but they’ll never tell anyone.”

  “Interesting,” she said. She’d suspected that Gilan had a network of agents keeping him informed. But this was the first time she’d had the suspicion confirmed.

  Five minutes later, they reached the farm, and as they rode into the home yard, Warwick and Louise hurried out to greet them.

  If Maddie had had any preformed idea about what a secret agent looked like, Warwick definitely didn’t fit it. He was short and stocky, in his mid- to late thirties, with a cheery, welcoming grin that seemed to be always present on his face. His eyes crinkled above the smile, and above that he was completely bald on top, with only a fringe of brown hair around his ears and the lower back of his head. He looked very fit and moved with an obvious agility. His forearms, bare beneath the short sleeves of his linen shirt, were thick with muscle.

  His wife was a few centimeters taller than him, slim and darkly pretty. She had a lazy, knowing smile that constantly touched the corners of her mouth. Her dark eyes looked steadily at Maddie as she studied her. The younger girl guessed it would take a lot to surprise Louise.

  “Louise, Warwick, this is Maddie, the fellow Ranger I spoke to you about,” Gilan said.

  Warwick gestured for Maddie to dismount. Good manners dictated that one always waited to be invited to do so. She swung down from Bumper’s saddle and Gilan did likewise.

  “Welcome to our farm, Maddie,” said Warwick, his grin wide and friendly. He reached up and rubbed Bumper’s soft nose gently. “
And I’m guessing this is Bumper?”

  Bumper tossed his head at the sound of his name. Warwick laughed and reached into a pocket to produce a carrot, which he fed to the little horse from the flattened palm of his hand. Bumper crunched the vegetable, then swung his eyes to Maddie.

  I like this one.

  And that was enough for Maddie. The surest way to her heart was to win over her horse, which Warwick had done easily. She smiled at him.

  “You’ve made a new friend,” she said.

  Warwick nodded happily. “He’s a beauty,” he said. “Reckon he could run all the day if you asked him.”

  “And half the night,” Maddie agreed.

  “I’ll unsaddle him and settle him in the barn,” Warwick told her. “Lou has some coffee just made. Go on into the house and have a cup.”

  “Never been known to refuse.” Gilan grinned. “Lou makes great coffee.”

  Maddie tethered Sundancer to a post by the front door of the farmhouse. Blaze, of course, didn’t need to be secured. She would wait patiently for Gilan, with her reins dropped loosely onto the ground before her. They entered the farmhouse, Maddie blinking in the sudden dimness after the bright sunshine outside.

  It was a typical small farm building, with the ground floor divided into areas for eating, cooking and relaxing. A short ladder led to an upper loft, which Maddie assumed was their bedroom.

  The rooms were furnished with simple but well-made furniture. Two comfortable-looking wooden armchairs were set on either side of the fireplace, with thick cushions in place to soften the hardwood seats. There was a small dining table, with benches on either side to seat four people. Louise led them to this now and gestured for them to sit. She fetched the coffeepot from the edge of the fire and poured them a mug each. Then she pushed a pot of honey forward.

  “I know you Rangers have a sweet tooth,” she said with a smile.

  Maddie returned the smile and helped herself to a generous dollop of honey in the steaming, fragrant coffee. She took a sip. Gilan was right. The woman made excellent coffee.