by Guy Antibes
“Protect your sisters,” Boxster said.
The assassins followed Trevor as he fought his way to his siblings, but Boxster cut the men down. Trevor took a slice to his upper arm, but he was wearing his black-painted wrist guards, and they protected him at least three times as he clashed with the attackers.
He thrust his sword into one of the men and looked around for another assailant, but they were all down on the floor as royal guards finally reached the scene.
“They are all dead,” one of the royal guards said. “Royal guards like ourselves. I know them all.”
Trevor counted nine men dead. Boxster leaned against a wall gathering his breath. Trevor didn’t know if the blood on his uniform was an assassin’s or his own.
“Are you all right?” Trevor said to Lilith and Wynn.
“Shocked, for certain. The attackers wanted you more than they wanted us,” Wynn said, but as Trevor looked at Lilith, he could see she didn’t agree with her half sister.
“I will take her to dinner. You better clean up quickly and beat the king, if you have truly been invited,” Lilith said.
Trevor had the invitation in his pocket, but he didn’t see a reason to show it to her.
“I’ll take Sergeant Boxster to the chapel. We were headed to see Brother Yvan first,” Trevor said. He looked at the guards. “You will make sure nothing happens to the princesses? If you fail…” Trevor pointed the tip of his sword to a pile of the assassins.
Trevor helped Boxster to the chapel. The sergeant had taken a good slice to his side, but from the blood, the cut didn’t run deep.
“Let me fix you quickly,” Brother Yvan said. “Come back here after your dinner, and we will get your wound properly dressed.”
Trevor didn’t want to leave Boxster, but he had to hurry to the dining room. He slipped inside, glad that King Henry hadn’t arrived.
“Defending Wynn’s honor?” Bering said drily.
“Defending all those who needed defending, Brother,” Trevor said. “That is what we are supposed to do in the army.”
He didn’t like Bering’s attitude. It appeared that Owen wasn’t quite as composed as his older brother. It didn’t take much effort to suspect the two oldest brothers were behind the assassination attempt. He could see Lilith and himself, but not Wynn.
The king came with his wife. Trevor wondered when they had made up.
The king stared at Trevor’s uniform. “What happened to you?”
“He saved Lilith and me from an assassination,” Wynn said.
The captain of the guard entered the room and went down on a knee. “There has been an attempt on…” He looked up at Trevor and the two young women. “They can tell you more than I can. From what we can tell, the men were hired to assassinate Prince Trevor, but none of the nine assailants survived their attempt.”
The king stared at Trevor. “Nine! You defeated nine guards?”
“Not by myself,” Trevor said. “I was escorting Master Sergeant Boxster to the chapel to procure healing supplies from Brother Yvan. Boxster insisted on wearing his sword in the castle, so I wore mine. I didn’t want it looking like I needed a guard.”
“But you did,” Bering said, snidely.
King Henry turned an angry face toward his oldest son. “You stay out of this.” His attention swung back to Trevor. “Why did you kill them all? The captain could have interrogated them to find the truth.”
“He was fighting for his life, Father,” Wynn said.
Trevor glanced at Lilith, who by this time had her mother’s arm around her shoulders.
The king took a deep breath. “There is nothing for it at this point,” he said to the captain.
“Interrogate Desolation Boxster to get another view of the fighting. That is all.”
“I could use a drink. Sit down, all of you,” The king said. “You may sip wine as I eat.”
Trevor would rather drain a tankard of ale or water, but a sip of any liquid was better than panting with a dry mouth after a good fight. He sat back after the king began his solitary feast, looking on and realizing he had fought his first battle with a real enemy. He had fought men who died of their injuries on the practice field, but never in hot blood, not in front of his sisters.
Trevor was fortunate that Boxster had accompanied him. He was more than happy to accept that kind of luck. A servant interrupted Trevor’s musing with a damp towel.
“A little more cleaning wouldn’t hurt,” King Henry said.
The king jerked his head toward a corner, and Trevor did a more thorough job than when he rushed to get the blood off his face and hands in the chapel of Dryden. When he had finished, the king had consumed his meal.
He pushed his chair back, a signal that the others could start. Now the questioning would begin.
“I asked you to join us since you might be heading into harm’s way,” King Henry said to Trevor, not following typical protocol. “I didn’t think that harm’s way would be in my home.”
Trevor had never considered anywhere outside the family quarters his home, even when he had been asked to live in his own tower.
“He shouldn’t have killed those men,” Bering said. Trevor doubted if his older brother had just uttered the truth.
“Did I ask you for your opinion?” The king stared at Bering. “Just what would you have done?”
“They wouldn’t be after me,” Bering said.
King Henry shook his head. “Sometimes, I think you are more naive than Trevor.”
Owen looked away and examined the food on his plate very carefully. To Trevor, that was a show of cowardice. Trevor looked directly at his father as he related the encounter with a great deal of detail except for descriptions of the actual fight, which might be too much for the queen and the two princesses. Wynn was looking a little peaked as the story went along.
“Lilith, is that how you remember it?” King Henry asked.
“I’m surprised he has that clear of a memory,” she said. Trevor hadn’t expected the insult she threw at him. “He arrived not long after we were accosted. The men came at us from three sides. I am surprised there wasn’t an alarm.”
“We will find out why my guards failed you,” King Henry said. “Eat up. I’m going to confer with the captain.” He rose and left the room.
“Thank you for saving my children,” Queen Hyra said with a small voice.
Trevor wondered how difficult it was for her to say something nice to him. He could tell the woman was sincere. Renny looked shocked more than anything. Trevor encouraged him to eat. There wasn’t much to keep him at the dinner once Renny ran out of the few questions he was able to utter.
He left the dinner first. What a debacle, he thought. The assassin guards had changed whatever plan his father had for the dinner. When he arrived back at the chapel, the captain of the guard and another officer sat on pews with Boxster and Brother Yvan, asking questions.
“We found their guard cloaks,” the captain said. “They wore them over normal clothes. We will never know why they did that.”
Boxster looked up at Trevor still standing. “They probably had instructions to leave one or both of your sisters alive.”
“They were after me,” Trevor said. “I don’t know why. I’m no threat to them.”
The captain grunted. “You will always be a threat to your two older brothers. You know that, don’t you?”
Trevor nodded.
“The king has told me to button up the investigation. I am not to pursue any leads.” He rose from where he sat. The other officer joined him. “You do understand?”
Unfortunately, Trevor did. “At least you have the correct story,” he said.
“We do have that. If you will excuse us, Prince Trevor.”
Trevor nodded and watched them leave before he sat slowly on the now-vacant pew. “I can collapse now,” he said. “It wasn’t easy to keep from pacing the dining room in anger.”
“You would do better than I would,” Boxster said, but Trevor
doubted that.
“How is your wound?”
Boxster barked out a single laugh. “Ask Yvan. He treated it.”
Trevor was surprised his sergeant referred to the cleric that way.
“He will be fine in a few days. I wasted too many stitches on him,” Brother Yvan said, looking amused at Boxster.
Their relationship had grown, Trevor thought. That was a good thing in his eyes.
“You were going to look at my aching arm, again?”
“I was, young prince.” Yvan went to work after locking the door to the chapel. “You suspect Bering and Owen?” he said as he sat down to help Trevor remove his uniform tunic.
“Bering,” Trevor said. “He didn’t admit to anything, but no one asked him a direct question. Owen looked guilty, but I doubt he would arrange something like that.”
“Unless it was the king himself,” Boxster said. He looked at Brother Yvan. The two had spoken of the possibility.
“My father wants me dead?”
“It is possible,” Brother Yvan said. “Bering acts as a foil in case something goes wrong, and it did, thankfully. King Henry doesn’t like you, that is plain, but I don’t know why he would strike now.”
“Perhaps because I’ll be leaving Tarviston,” Trevor said.
Brother Yvan shrugged. “That is possible if it were Bering, but the king’s reach is much longer. I’m sure it extends to the Red Forest encampment.”
“Back to Bering?” Trevor asked.
“Unless the king wants us to think it is Bering,” Boxster said.
“I refuse to think that far ahead,” Trevor said. “Life will be too confusing if I do that. It could be someone else. Perhaps Dorwick paid for the attempt.”
Brother Yvan nodded. “That bears a little poking around, and that means your mother and Lilith would be implicated. I’ll be discreet and send a message if I find something.”
“Don’t put yourself in danger,” Boxster said to Brother Yvan.
“I am experienced enough not to do that.” The cleric looked at Boxster. “Your sergeant will spend the night in my spare room, so he is strong enough to haul my medicines back to the barracks. You should leave before it gets dark.”
Trevor didn’t argue. He was surprised he felt relieved once he reached his quarters. He took out the proper color thread and a needle and stitched up his uniform. It was his first bit of battle needlework. The stitching was a badge of honor when there was a story behind the repair, and he had a story. So did Boxster.
Chapter Nine
~
N othing happened on the ride to Red Forest Garrison, but Trevor found that he missed Win’s presence and positive attitude. Boxster was informative as they traveled, but generally dour, as usual, quizzing Trevor on the rest of his readings. Trevor had a book in his bags to study while he worked at the fort, which he didn’t look forward to reading.
Red Forest was a large town on the northern edge of a vast wood that extended fifteen leagues to the south to the border with West Moreton. Trevor always smiled when he thought that West Moreton was in the south. East Moreton was, obviously, to the east of West Moreton and bordered Dorwick.
West Moreton wasn’t an enemy of Presidon, but it wasn’t an ally. There was an uneasy peace at all times with the occasional incursion from time to time. The garrison not only protected much of the southern border but also sent out expeditions to eliminate the bandits that cropped up from time to time using the forest as protection.
“You’ll be experienced enough once you complete a tour of duty here,” Boxster said as they took the road that led to the garrison. The garrison was a mile to the east of town.
“Is a company enough to discourage a band of robbers?” Trevor asked.
Boxster smirked. “A small band. We will know more once you have met your men. They will likely have a better feel for things than the garrison commander.”
“I can’t wait,” Trevor said, not knowing if his comment was sarcastic or heartfelt.
He wanted to be in the army, but without actually being in the field, he wouldn’t know how he would take to such a thing. The fight with the assassins gave him hope that his courage met the bar, but there was more to leadership than courage. His reading and his discussions with Boxster had told him that.
With an ambivalent attitude toward his new position, Trevor rode under the parapet that ran over the open gate to the stone garrison. Once inside, the garrison appeared to be as large as the Tarviston castle grounds in area, but most of the area was taken up by a practice field. A four-story building dominated the western side of the compound. It appeared to be as high as the tall wall that circled the garrison.
This was a strong keep, Trevor thought, as they headed for the prominent structure to report to their new unit. As he tied his horse up to the hitching post, Trevor realized that the garrison was five days from the border, and that did the people living between Red Forest and West Moreton little good. Perhaps, he mused, his readings might have given him too much knowledge, and that might lead to a lot of disappointment when others made poor decisions. His thoughts turned to the present as a soldier stepped out of the building.
“You are Prince Trevor?” the soldier asked.
“Lieutenant Arcwin and this is my aide, Master Sergeant Desolation Boxster,” Trevor said.
“It is the same. Follow me,” the man said shrugging.
They followed the soldier into the big building and turned right, into an administrative area with soldiers working on long tables with stacks of files on them.
“A pay decrease is coming,” the soldier said. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything to you.”
Trevor was surprised by the man’s frankness. He was complaining to a prince of the realm, but truthfully, Trevor wouldn’t do a thing about the man’s comment. He was here to learn and not insist on protocols that he had no desire to enforce. That was something his father or Bering would do.
“Watch what you say,” Boxster said. “In other places, you would be more than scolded.”
Trevor looked at Boxster. He hadn’t expected a reproof coming from him, but it was better from Boxster.
“You have to maintain discipline, Lieutenant Arcwin,” Boxster said away from their escort’s hearing.
“General Greenwood will see you,” the soldier said, knocking, then opening the door and leaving it open. The soldier sat at a desk outside the general’s door.
Trevor poked his head inside the office and knocked himself.
“Prince?” The general stood up and pointed to two chairs.
Boxster gave the general a salute, and Trevor followed closely after.
“That is the last time I’ll call you that, Lieutenant, by General Sorryn’s order.”
“I understand. I think of myself as Lieutenant Arcwin more than Prince Trevor.” That wasn’t exactly true, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
“Good. I have drawn up the assignments of men from the other units. Eighteen soldiers and two master soldiers. I don’t have sergeants available.”
“We will make do,” Trevor said. He glanced at Boxster, who barely nodded his head.
“Officers have quarters in this building. As a company commander, you will also have a small office. Your sergeant will be assigned to your company barracks on the other side of the garrison.”
“What are my duties?” Trevor asked.
“Train your men for two weeks, so they are used to you as their leader, and then we will send you out on expeditions. There isn’t a shortage of those in the south. Pillar will show you both to your quarters.”
“He is the soldier sitting outside your office?”
General Greenwood smiled. “He is Sorryn’s man, so that you know.”
The warning from the general was disturbing, to say the least, Trevor thought. No wonder Pillar seemed casual. Trevor guessed the soldier outside had assumed the attitude of a minder with the same arrogance that Trevor had experienced all his life in people that his f
ather hired to monitor him. Boxster had the same attitude when they were first put together, but although the arrogance remained, they had an excellent personal relationship, or so Trevor thought. He wondered whose man Boxster might be.
After being shown an office that was little larger than a closet with two chairs, a small table, and a larger office chair, Pillar escorted Trevor to his small room. At least this was perceptibly bigger than his quarters in the barracks.
~
Had Trevor ever seen a sorrier lot of soldiers in his short army career? He doubted it as Boxster had Trevor’s company line up. The men were all too skinny or too fat. They came from other units in the fort.
“You are looking at culled soldiers,” Boxster said as they watched the men finishing up their assembly.
One of Trevor’s master soldiers was hideously obese, and the other looked like he had spent his life begging for drinks outside a pub. Neither man did much to keep their men standing in an orderly fashion, and it looked like the soldiers in their squads shared the same idea.
“We have to change these men,” Trevor said. “They can’t be as hopeless as they look.”
“Perhaps they are,” Boxster said. “But we won’t know until we get them trained, and that will start with the master soldiers. They aren’t very masterly.”
“And you are?” Trevor asked.
“I am, and you know it, sir,” Boxster snapped back.
“I do,” Trevor said.
“If your father wanted to put you in harm’s way, I doubt if he could do a better job without hiring assassins. It’s time for you to speak to them,” Boxster said.
Trevor stepped forward. “I would rather you stand straight when we assemble like this. I’d hate to have Master Sergeant Boxster make up punishments. He is rather good at it.” The men straightened up, and that encouraged Trevor. “We will be training for two weeks before we are sent on a patrol.” Trevor could see looks of fear exchanged among the company. “Your survival depends on how well you fight as a unit,” he said, thinking back to discussions he had had with Boxster on the days of travel to Red Forest. “Sergeant Boxster and I are more than competent with weapons, but we can’t fight off a dozen or more bandits by ourselves. As Sergeant Boxster works with you, the more you work, the better your chances. Am I understood?”