Ranger's Apprentice 3 & 4 Bindup (50 page)

Something was afoot, Will knew. After the first round of celebrations, and after Erak and his crew had set sail once more for Skandia, with the administrative details of the Araluan archery force deployment agreed for the following spring, there had been much consultation and discussion between the King and his advisers, including Halt, Crowley, Baron Arald and Sir Rodney.

During this period, Will and Horace were left pretty much at a loose end, although there was no shortage of admirers who would greet them as friends and sit spellbound as they told the story of their time in Skandia, and their fierce battle against the Temujai. But even such adulation palled after a while.

Horace, now that his adventures as the Oakleaf Knight were over, had reverted to the plain white surcoat of a warrior apprentice.

Evanlyn, of course, had reverted to her true identity as the Princess Cassandra. She was whisked away to the royal
family's apartments in one of the towers of Castle Araluen, and whenever Will saw her she was surrounded by a retinue of knights and ladies in waiting. She was also, he realised, a beautiful young woman, immaculately dressed and at ease among the young nobles and ladies who surrounded her.

Saddened, he felt the distance between them growing wider as he came to terms with the fact that his companion through so many adventures and dangers was, in reality, the highest-born woman in the kingdom, whereas he was the orphan child of a sergeant in the army and his farm girl wife. On those increasingly rare occasions when he did speak to Cassandra, he became awkward and stilted. He was tongue-tied in her presence and tended to mumble formulaic replies to her attempts at conversation.

His reaction frustrated and infuriated Cassandra. She was making a genuine attempt to restore their friendship to its former basis, but she was too young to realise that all the trappings of royalty and wealth, things she took for granted and gave no account to, could only serve to distance Will from her.

‘Doesn't he see that I'm the same person I always was?' she asked her mirror in frustration. But, in fact, she wasn't. Evanlyn had been a frightened girl, her life at constant risk, reliant for months on the wits and courage of her young companion to keep her safe. Then she in turn had become the saviour, the one who nursed a confused, frightened boy back to health.

Cassandra, on the other hand, was a beautiful, immaculately groomed princess, whose station in life was so far above Will's as to be unattainable. One day, he realised, she
would rule as Queen, in her father's place. It wasn't her personality that had changed. It was her position. And both she and Will were too young and inexperienced to overcome the inevitable strain that such a social gulf put upon their relationship.

Oddly enough, at the same time, she found herself becoming more closely aligned to Horace. Accustomed to the formality of life as an apprentice knight and the strictures and protocols of court life at Castle Redmont, Horace was unfazed by Cassandra's rank. Of course, he deferred to her and treated her with respect. But then, he always had done so. Horace's simplistic and uncomplicated approach to life led him to accept things as they were and not seek complications. Evanlyn had been his friend. Now, the Princess Cassandra was too. There were certain differences in the way he might be expected to approach her and address her, but this sort of formality had been part of his training.

When she finally broached the subject of the widening gap between herself and Will, Horace merely counselled patience.

‘He'll get used to the way things are,' he told her. ‘He's a Ranger, after all, and they're sort of … different … in their ways. Give him time to adjust.'

So Cassandra bided her time. But Horace's comment about Rangers stayed with her and she determined to do something about that situation.

And there was, she knew, a perfect opportunity for that in the very near future.

Duncan had declared a formal banquet to celebrate the safe return of his only daughter and invitations had been carried to the fifty baronies in the Kingdom. It would be a massive event.

It took a month for the invited guests to assemble, and then the immense dining hall in Castle Araluen saw an evening unrivalled since Duncan's own coronation, twenty years prior.

The feasting went on for hours, with the castle servants labouring under trays of roasted meat, huge pasties, steaming fresh vegetables and confectioneries designed to dazzle the eyes as much as the taste. Master Chubb, the Kitchenmaster at Castle Redmont, and one of the finest chefs in the kingdom, had travelled to the capital to oversee the affair. He stood in the kitchen doorway, watching in satisfaction as the nobles and their ladies devoured and destroyed the fruits of the kitchen staff's labours for the past week, and idly cracking his ladle on the head of any unwary waiter or kitchen worker who came within reach.

‘Not bad, not bad,' he muttered to himself, then directed another servant to take yet another special dish for the enjoyment of ‘young Ranger Will', as he termed him.

Eventually, the massive feast was over and the entertainment was due to begin. The King's harper was nervously tuning his strings – the heat of the packed dining hall had caused them to stretch unevenly – and mentally reviewing the lyrics to the heroic ode he had written, celebrating the rescue of the Princess Royal from the jaws of death by three of the kingdom's worthiest heroes. He was still wishing that he had managed a better rhyme for ‘Halt'. The best he had come up with so far was
to affirm that he was a man ‘well worth his salt', which seemed, in the face of things, to be underselling the value of the legendary Ranger.

Before he was called upon, however, King Duncan rose from his seat to address the huge crowd. As ever, the vigilant Lord Anthony was on hand and, at his monarch's signal, he pounded his steel-shod staff on the flagstones of the dining hall.

‘Silence before the King!' he bellowed, and instantly, the babble of talk and laughter in the huge room fell away to nothing. All eyes turned expectantly to the top table.

‘My lords and ladies,' Duncan began, his deep voice carrying without seeming effort to every corner of the hall, ‘this occasion is one of great pleasure for me. For a start, we are here to celebrate the safe return of my daughter, the Princess Cassandra – an eventuality that brings me more joy than you could possibly comprehend.'

The hall rang with cries of ‘Hear! Hear!' and enthusiastic applause.

‘The other source of pleasure to me tonight is the opportunity to reward those who were responsible for her safe return.'

This time, the applause was louder and more prolonged. The audience was delighted to see Cassandra safely back with her father. But they knew the main business of the evening was the rewarding of the three companions who had brought her there.

‘First,' said Duncan, ‘would the Ranger Halt please step forward.'

There was a murmur of interest in the crowd as the slightly built figure, for once without the anonymity of
his grey and green cloak, stood before the King. Several of those at the rear of the hall stood to get a better view. Halt's reputation was known throughout the Kingdom, but relatively few of those present had ever seen him in the flesh. That was due in no small part to the Ranger predilection for secrecy, of course. Now there were more than a few expressions of surprise at the legendary Ranger's diminutive size. Most of those present had formed a mental picture of a longbow-wielding hero of majestic build who stood just under two metres high.

Now, he bowed his head to the King. Not for the first time, Duncan found himself studying the Ranger's shaggy, uneven haircut. It had obviously been recently trimmed in honour of the event but Duncan couldn't help grinning. Halt had been at Castle Araluen for over a month, surrounded by servants, valets and, above all, skilled barbers. Yet apparently, he still chose to cut his own hair with his saxe knife. Duncan realised the crowd was waiting while he appraised Halt's tonsorial efforts. He gathered his thoughts and continued.

‘Halt has already stated that his restoration to the ranks of the Ranger Corps is sufficient reward,' Duncan said and once again there was a murmur of surprise.

‘As on so many occasions before this, I stand in debt of one of my most loyal officers and I accede to his wishes in this matter. Halt, I owe you more than any King ever owed a man. I will never forget all you have done.'

And at that, Halt inclined his head once more and slipped back to his seat, moving so quickly and unobtrusively that most of those present didn't realise he was gone and their startled applause died stillborn.

‘Next,' Duncan said, raising his voice slightly to still the buzz of conversation that had broken out, ‘let the warrior apprentice Horace stand forward.'

Will slapped his friend on the back as Horace, an apprehensive look on his face, rose from his seat and moved forward to stand at attention before the King. The crowd waited expectantly.

‘Horace,' Duncan began, straight-faced but with a hint of laughter in his eyes, ‘it has come to our attention that you travelled throughout Gallica in the guise of a fully qualified knight …' He made a show of consulting a note on the table before him, then added, ‘The
Chevalier de Feuille du Chêne
– the Oakleaf Knight.'

Horace gulped nervously. He knew, of course that the tale of his exploits had been told. But he had hoped that officialdom would turn a blind eye to the fact that he had no right to pose as a knight.

‘Your majesty, I'm sorry … I sort of felt that it was necessary at the …'

He realised that Duncan was eyeing him coolly, one eyebrow raised, and then it dawned on him that he had committed a grave breach of etiquette by interrupting the King. Belatedly, he stopped, and came to attention once more as the King resumed.

‘As you know, I'm sure, it is highly irregular for an apprentice to bear an insignia or to pose as a knight, so now it is necessary that we rectify this irregularity.' He paused.

Horace was about to say, ‘Yes sir,' then realised he'd be interrupting again and said nothing.

Duncan continued. ‘I've conferred with your Baron,
your Battlemaster and the Ranger Halt and we all agree that the best solution is to regularise the situation.'

Horace wasn't sure what that meant but it didn't sound good. Duncan made a signal and Horace heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. Glancing sideways, he saw Battlemaster Rodney coming to a stop beside him, holding a sword and shield before him. In a daze, Horace saw the device on the shield – a green oakleaf on a field of white. He watched in awe as Duncan stepped down from his dais, took the sword and touched him lightly on the shoulder with it.

‘Kneel,' Rodney hissed out of the corner of his mouth and Horace did so, then heard the next words ringing in his ears.

‘Arise Sir Horace, Knight of the Oakleaf, and ensign in the Royal Guard of Araluen.'

This caused bedlam in the crowd. It was virtually unheard of for an apprentice to be knighted in his second year and then to be appointed as an officer in the Royal Guard – the elite force who garrisoned Castle Araluen. The nobles and their ladies went wild with delight.

‘Get up,' Rodney hissed again and slowly, a huge grin spreading over his face, Horace rose and took the sword from the King's hand.

‘Well done, Horace,' the King said quietly. ‘You've more than earned it.'

Then he shook the hand of his newest knight and indicated that he might return to his seat. Horace did so, the faces around him in a blur. He saw only the huge, delighted grin on Will's face as his friend pounded him on the back in congratulation. Then the crowd was hushed again and this time both boys heard the King's voice:

‘Would the Ranger apprentice Will stand forward.'

Even though he had assumed that such a thing might happen, Will was caught unprepared. He hurried from his seat, stumbling as he went, and finally regained his balance to stand before the King.

‘Will, your Ranger Corps have their own ways and their own regulations. I've spoken to your mentor Halt, and to the Corps Commandant, and unfortunately it's beyond my power to rescind your period of training and declare you a fully qualified Ranger. Halt and Crowley insist that you must complete your full period of training and assessment.'

Will swallowed nervously and nodded. He knew that. There was still so much he had to learn about his craft, so many skills he had to develop. Horace's natural talent was sufficient for the King to waive his further training. But Will knew that could never be the case for him.

‘However,' Duncan continued, ‘I can offer an alternative. It is within my power to appoint you as a lieutenant in the Royal Scouts. Your masters have agreed that you are totally qualified for such an appointment and will release you from your apprenticeship if that is your wish.'

The assembled people gave one concerted gasp of surprise. Will was speechless. The Royal Scouts were an elite force of light cavalry, tasked with the responsibility of training the Kingdom's archers and scouting ahead of the King's army in battle. Scout officers and recruits generally came from the ranks of the nobility and the appointment was virtually the equivalent of a knighthood.