The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist

his most expressive gesture, it seemed. ‘He didn’t do much but fish and tell stories. He was an old man. I liked him enough, but …’ Again he shrugged. ‘You get old, then you die. That’s the way it works, isn’t it?’

      It was Nicholas’s turn to shrug. ‘I hadn’t seen him for almost ten years. I guess he got older.’ Realizing instantly that the remark was inane, he let the conversation lapse into silence for the rest of the meal.

      At the finish of the meal, Martin rose and said, ‘We welcome to our home our cousin Nicholas.’ The gathered court and servants gave polite applause. ‘Beginning tomorrow, he shall be acting as my Squire.’ At this, Harry glanced at his friend with a questioning expression. Nicholas shrugged.

      Martin said, ‘And his companion, Harry of Ludland, will be Squire to my son.’

      Harry made a face that said, Well, that answers that.

      ‘Now,’ said Martin. ‘I bid you all good night.’

      He extended his hand and Briana placed hers upon it, in ceremonial fashion, and he led her from the table. The ladies Margaret and Abigail followed, and then Marcus rose. Turning to Harry, he said, ‘Well then, if you’re to squire for me, I need you awake an hour before sunrise. Ask any servant where my quarters are and don’t be late.’ Turning to Nicholas, he said, ‘Father will want you ready, too.’

      Nicholas didn’t care much for his cousin’s tone, but he refused to be anything but polite. ‘I’ll be there.’

      Marcus smiled and it was a shock, for it was the first time since meeting him that Nicholas had seen any expression other than a neutral frown. ‘I expect you will.’ Waving to the servants, he said, ‘Show the Squires to their quarters.’

      The boys fell in behind two servants, and as they passed by the magician, Harry said, ‘See you around, Anthony.’

      The magician muttered a reply. When they entered a long hallway, Harry said, ‘That’s the Duke’s magician.’

      ‘I know,’ answered Nicholas. ‘Marcus said he wasn’t very good at his job.’

      Harry indicated he had no opinion on that topic, but added, ‘He seems a right enough fellow, if a little shy. Mumbles a bit.’

      The servants led the two young men to doors next to one another. Nicholas opened the indicated one and entered what could only be considered a cell. It was barely ten feet in length and eight feet wide. A straw pallet lay on the floor and a small chest for personal belongings took up one corner of the room. A tiny table, a chair, and a rude lamp on the table were the only other features. Nicholas turned to the servant, who was walking away, and said, ‘Where are my things?’

      The servant said, ‘In storage, Squire. His Grace said you won’t need them until you’re ready to leave, so he had them put down in the sub-basement. You’ll find all you need in the chest.’

      Harry clapped his friend upon the shoulder. ‘Well, Squire Nicky, better turn in and get a good night’s sleep. We’re up early tomorrow.’

      ‘Don’t let me oversleep,’ said Nicholas, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

      ‘What’s it worth to you?’

      Nicholas said, ‘How about I don’t knock you on your backside?’

      Harry appeared to consider this for a moment, then said, ‘Seems fair to me.’ With a laugh he said, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get used to being a squire. Look at me; I’ve done right well being yours.’

      He entered his own room, and Nicholas looked heavenward, as if to say, because you’ve never had to act like one. With a feeling of deep foreboding, he entered his cell, closed the door, and undressed. Blowing out the lamp, he made his way in the dark toward the pallet, and lying on the straw-packed sack, he pulled the single blanket up over him. The rest of the night was spent tossing and turning, with only a little rest and a deep sense of dread.

      Nicholas was awake when the knock came. He fumbled his way in the dark and realized with a sinking feeling that he hadn’t located any means to light the lamp before he had blown it out. He found the door handle in the dark and opened the door. Harry, who stood there, said, ‘You planning on going like that?’

      Feeling silly standing in only his undertrousers, Nicholas said, ‘I forgot to locate the flint and steel.’

      ‘They’re on the table, behind the lamp, where they usually are. I’ll light it; you get dressed.’

      Nicholas opened the chest and found a simple tunic and trousers in brown and green, which he took to be the uniform of a Crydee squire, as Harry was garbed in like fashion. He put them on and found them a close enough fit. Pulling on his own boots, he said, ‘What is this business of awaking before dawn.’

      Harry put down the now burning lamp, closed the door, and said, ‘Farmers, I guess.’

      ‘Farmers?’

      ‘You know. Country people. Always up before dawn, asleep with the chickens.’

      Nicholas grunted a vague acknowledgment of the remark as he pulled on his boots. His left foot seemed slightly swollen, which made getting the specially made boot on that more difficult. ‘Damn,’ he said, ‘must be damper here than at home.’

      Harry said, ‘You noticed! You mean the mold growing on the stones next to your bed didn’t give you a hint?’

      Nicholas swung a lazy backhand at Harry, which he avoided easily. ‘Come on,’ he said with a laugh, ‘it wouldn’t do to be late our first day.’

      Nicholas and Harry found themselves alone in the hallway and suddenly Harry said, ‘Where are the servants?’

      ‘We’re the servants, you dolt,’ said Nicholas. ‘I think I know where the family quarters are.’

      By trial and error, the boys found their way through the castle to the family’s wing. Modest quarters compared to what the Prince was used to at home, they were nevertheless considerably more comfortable than the cells the boys had inhabited the night before. A pair of servants were leaving two of the rooms, and Nicholas asked and was told that they were indeed Lord Martin and Lady Briana’s quarters and young Master Marcus’s.

      Taking up their stations by the respective doors, the boys waited. After a few moments, Nicholas ventured a quiet knock. The door opened and Martin looked out and said, ‘I’ll be with you in a few minutes, Squire.’

      Before Nicholas could answer, ‘Yes, Your Grace,’ the door was closed in his face.

      Harry grinned and raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could strike wood, the door opened and Marcus stepped through. ‘You’re late,’ he snapped. ‘Come along.’ He hurried down the hallway, and Harry almost had to leap to catch up with him.

      A few minutes later, Martin emerged from his bedchamber and moved down the hall without comment. Nicholas fell in behind him and followed along. Instead of heading for the main hall, as the boy expected, the Duke moved through the quiet keep to the main entrance, where stable hands were bringing out horses. Marcus and Harry could be seen riding out the gate as a servant thrust reins in Nicholas’s direction.

      Martin said, ‘You can ride?’

      Nicholas said, ‘Of course … Your Grace,’ he added quickly.

      ‘Good. We’ve no shortage of green horses that need a firm hand out.’

      As he climbed aboard, Nicholas instantly found himself in a contest with the horse. A quick half-halt jerk to the mouth and a hard seat brought the fractious animal under control. The gelding was young and probably had been cut late, given the stallion-like crest of his neck and his aggressive behavior. Nicholas also didn’t care for the heavy saddle, which made contact with the animal difficult.

      But Martin gave him no time for consideration of the finer points of horsemanship, having turned his animal and headed for the gate. Nicholas put heels to the