“I wonder who that might be,” Maddie drawled with a slow smile as the rider galloped headlong down the hill toward them, her long blond hair flying behind her in the wind, and the scarf round her throat billowing out to match it.
“Could it be your mother, do you think?” Ingrid said in the same amused tone.
“Her Royal Highness the Princess Regent?” Maddie replied. “Surely you don’t think she would behave with such a lack of dignity and sense of occasion.”
“She did last year,” Ingrid told her.
“And the year before that,” Maddie agreed. She halted Sundancer and stood in her stirrups to wave a greeting to the flying figure rapidly approaching them.
Cassandra reined in as she came close, hauling on the reins so that her horse went back on its haunches and slid, stiff legged, to a stop beside them in a cloud of dust and flying grass. She threw her leg over the pommel and slid lightly to the ground, rushing toward her daughter, arms outstretched.
“Maddie! Maddie! You’re home at last!” Her voice was highpitched with excitement.
Maddie swung down from the saddle in a more conventional movement. She had barely disentangled her foot from the stirrup when she was overwhelmed by her mother, who squealed with incoherent delight and collided with her daughter as she threw both arms around her and sent the two of them staggering.
“Steady on, Mum!” Maddie cried breathlessly. “You’ll knock me over!”
Ingrid watched with amusement as Maddie’s prediction became a fact. The two women, mother and daughter, lost their balance under the impetus of Cassandra’s rush and went sprawling in the neatly mown grass, rolling over and dissolving into gales of laughter. Cassandra was the first to recover, rising to her feet and holding out a hand to help Maddie up.
“What a trip!” Maddie said, laughing still as she brushed stray strands of grass from her hair. “First we get stopped by bandits, then my mother barges into me like an angry bull when I think I’m safe home.”
Instantly, the laughter fled from Cassandra’s face as she realized what Maddie had said. It was replaced by a look of concern.
“Bandits?” she repeated. “You were held up by bandits? What happened? Are you all right?”
“No, Mum,” Maddie said, straight-faced. “They killed us both. You’re looking at our ghosts. Of course we’re all right.”
“But what happened? Were you in danger? When did this happen? Where are they now?” The questions poured out of Cassandra nonstop, her words running together. Maddie held up a hand to stop the flow, but her mother looked up to Maddie’s companion.
“Ingrid, what happened? For goodness’ sake, someone give me a sensible answer!”
Ingrid smiled reassuringly at the worried Princess Regent. “Really, my lady, we were never in any real danger. Your daughter handled the situation easily.”
“How many were there? Where are they now? Are you sure you’re both all right?” Ingrid’s unflustered answer did nothing to ease Cassandra’s worry.
“Honestly, my lady, we’re fine. We were never in any real danger.”
“But what happened?" Cassandra repeated. The pitch of her voice was getting higher and higher as she tried to get answers to her questions. She was actually hopping from one foot to another, a sure sign of the agitation any mother feels when she hears her child has been in danger.
Maddie put a hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Mum, it was fine, really. We were half a day’s ride from here, passing through Alder Forest, and these three raggle-tailed ruffians decided they’d rob us. They stepped out onto the track and told us to hand over our valuables.”
“Were they armed?” Cassandra asked anxiously.
Maddie shrugged. “Barely. One had a club. The other had a rather sad-looking bow, and the third had a spear.”
“He was behind us, cutting off our retreat,” Ingrid put in.
Cassandra glanced up at her quickly. “So you couldn’t run away?” Nothing the girls were telling her was making her feel any more reassured.
“There didn’t seem to be any need,” Maddie told her. She really couldn’t understand why her mother was carrying on so. But then, she wasn’t a mother.
Ingrid took up the tale again. “Lady Maddie used her sling and smashed the bow. Then she smashed the bowman’s shoulder,” she said. When she and Maddie were alone, she simply referred to her as “Maddie,” but in front of her mother, she thought she should show a little more respect.
“Then Ingrid whacked the second one with her riding crop,” Maddie said. She looked up at her maid. “That’s a very handy piece, by the way. I must get one.”
“You hit him with a riding crop?” Cassandra asked. It didn’t sound like a particularly effective way to deal with an armed bandit.
Ingrid held up the crop for her to see, pointing to the heavy stone pommel. “It’s not an ordinary crop,” she said. “It’s weighted with lead in the handle and has this heavy stone at the end.”
“And then Bumper took care of the third man,” Maddie continued. “Sent him flying head over heels. He turned nasty at that, so I broke his arm with my sling shot. Couldn’t have him hurting Bumper.” She turned to smile at the little horse. He pricked his ears as he heard his name, and whinnied softly.
She saw that Cassandra had calmed somewhat, and patted her mother’s shoulder again. “Mum, they were just three ruffians. And remember, I’ve been training for three years now as a Ranger. I’ve faced much worse situations than this.”
Cassandra passed a hand over her face. “Don’t tell me that. I really don’t want to hear that.” She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re all right?” she asked, her tone serious.
Maddie grinned at her. “I’m fine, Mum. Really. Ingrid could have handled them by herself. She’s very capable.”
Ingrid shook her head, smiling at the statement. When it came to capable, she thought, nobody was more so than her mistress. It amused her that Cassandra didn’t realize that her daughter was a highly trained warrior, skilled in the use of bow, sling and knife. She might be an apprentice still, but an apprentice Ranger was a very dangerous person. Particularly if you were an oafish, poorly armed ruffian who relied more on bluster and threats than actual skill at arms.
Finally, Cassandra seemed to be convinced. She smiled wearily at her daughter and embraced her once more—this time more gently than the first.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re all right . . .”
Maddie hugged her warmly. “I’m sure, Mum. Really.” She stepped back from her mother and held her hands out from her sides for inspection. “See? There’s not a mark on me.”
Even though she was joking, she noticed that Cassandra did examine her closely, looking for any possible sign of injury. Finally, the Princess Regent seemed satisfied. She nodded and turned to retrieve her horse, where it was grazing nearby.
“Well then, in that case, let’s go home,” Cassandra said. “People are waiting to greet you.”
They remounted and, riding side by side, with barely a meter between them so they could reach across and hold each other’s hand, continued in a contented silence up the grassy hill toward the castle. As they came close to the sentries at the outer end of the drawbridge, Cassandra released Maddie’s hand and turned to face her.
“I wouldn’t mention that little matter to your father,” she said in a low voice. “You know how he tends to worry.”
“How he tends to worry?” Maddie repeated incredulously. Then, realizing that her mother was deadly serious, she nodded acquiescence. “He’ll never hear a word from me.”
Because, knowing her mother, she had a pretty good idea where and when her father would hear about the encounter on the track.
* * *
• • •
There followed several hours where staff and old frie
nds welcomed Maddie home as she did the rounds of the massive castle, greeting people she had known for years. First and foremost, of course, was her father. Horace swept her off her feet in a massive bear hug as she dismounted in the courtyard, holding her well off the ground and spinning her round, saying her name over and over.
Finally, having greeted just about everyone, with the exception of her grandfather, King Duncan, she and her parents retired to their apartment in the central keep tower for a private family dinner.
“You can say hello to Father tomorrow,” Cassandra told her. “He’s very weak these days, and he’s resting.”
“I had hoped he might be feeling better,” Maddie said, sadness touching her voice.
But Horace shook his head. “He’s not recovering at all. He’s getting worse each day. I’m glad you came home. This could be your last chance to see him.”
She felt tears burning against the back of her eyes. She had known for some time that Duncan’s health was deteriorating—which was why her mother had assumed the role of Regent in his name. But recognizing that they could soon lose him saddened her immensely. She was quiet for a few minutes, dealing with the knowledge.
Horace put his arm gently around her shoulders. “But you’re home now, and who’s to say he won’t make a recovery,” he said.
She forced the tears back and managed a smile. She was genuinely delighted to see her parents once more and looked forward to exchanging stories with her father—and finding out more about his and Gilan’s planned expedition to deal with the mysterious Red Fox Clan. In the back of her mind, she was already scheming to see if she could accompany them.
They sat down to one of her favorite meals—slow-roasted lamb shoulder, flavored with rosemary and wild garlic, accompanied by crisp-roasted potatoes and steamed greens. The richly flavored meat had been roasting in a covered iron camp kettle for almost three hours, and it simply fell from the bone as she plunged her knife and eating fork into it.
“Mmm. That’s good,” she said. “That’s as good as Jenny makes it.”
Her mother smiled. She had actually prepared the meal herself. “It’s Jenny’s recipe,” she said. “But I’m glad you approve of my cooking.”
They ate in pleasurable silence for several minutes, and then Horace set down his eating implements and studied his daughter. She looked older, he thought, and then realized that she was older—and that at her age, a year was a relatively large amount of time. She looked fit and healthy, and there was a new air of confidence about her—one that he approved of. Unlike his wife, he was more than happy that Maddie was training as a Ranger. She was learning tactical and strategic skills, and the ability to analyze a situation quickly and intelligently, which would come in handy when she finally took the throne.
“So, what have you been up to?” he asked.
Instantly, Cassandra unleashed a pent-up torrent of words. “What has she been up to? I’ll tell you! She was set upon by robbers barely a half day’s ride from here! Attacked, and had to fight for her life. We’re lucky to have her with us still, and it’s your fault!”
“My fault?” Horace said mildly.
She nodded vigorously, pointing an accusing fork in his direction so that he recoiled slightly. “Your fault for encouraging her to go ahead with this Ranger business, instead of staying safe at home with us!”
He looked at her steadily until she subsided, a little red-faced and embarrassed by her outburst.
“So what happened?” he asked Maddie.
“It was nothing, Dad, really. They were three clumsy thugs who tried to hold us up. I took one down with my sling, Ingrid brained the second and Bumper took care of the third.”
“Then what did you do with them?”
Maddie shrugged. “We tied them up and handed them off to a manor lord along the way—a Sir Gerald Something-or-Other.”
“That’d be Sir Gerald Wollden,” Horace said. “I’ll send him a note of thanks.” Then he grinned. “You say Ingrid brained one?”
Maddie returned the smile. “With her riding crop. Knocked him cross-eyed with the hilt.”
Horace looked impressed. “Well, good for her.” He caught Cassandra’s eye and nodded toward the platter of lamb. “I wonder, could you serve me a couple more slices?” he said. “It’s very good.”
Cassandra sighed and shook her head at his total lack of concern.
“You’re obviously not a mother,” she said.
Horace raised his eyebrows. “Thank goodness for that.”
8
The following day, Cassandra hosted a fair in the parklands outside the castle walls so that the entire district could welcome Maddie home properly. All of the castle staff were there, along with those of the guards who were off duty, and the residents of the local village, who turned out en masse. In addition, local nobles and other villagers from ten kilometers around made the journey to Castle Araluen for the big day.
They weren’t disappointed, even though some of them walked all the way to get there. There were massive cooking pits, full of glowing charcoal, with lambs, boar and sides of beef turning slowly on spits over them, operated by muscular, sweating castle kitchen staff, who paused in their labor only long enough to allow the cook’s apprentices to slice juicy pieces of roasted meat from the outside of the slowly turning carcasses. A few meters away, racks of brown, crusty pastries and pies were on offer as well.
There were stalls selling fruit and brightly colored puddings for those with a sweet tooth, and barrels of wine and ale were propped up on trestles to ease the collective thirst. For the younger attendees, there was lemon-flavored water, sweetened with sugar—a rare treat for many of the village children, and one that they took full advantage of.
There was entertainment as well, with jugglers, acrobats, jongleurs and musicians scattered at intervals throughout the park. And, of course, there was the usual array of sideshows and stalls offering tests of skill, such as hoopla, where a careful observer might have noticed that the wooden hoops looked suspiciously smaller than the prizes they had to be thrown over to win. Apples floated in a barrel for people to dunk for, blowing bubbles and snorting water as they attempted to secure one of the slippery, bobbing pieces of fruit from the water, often immersing their entire head in the barrel as a result.
Young men from the village could test their strength against a huge, heavily muscled bald man in a ragged leopard-skin loincloth. They would sit on opposite sides of a bench and arm-wrestle him. But he was a cunning competitor, with skill exceeding even his brute strength, and a sense of timing that invariably allowed him to launch the first attack in the contest. He rarely lost.
A Punch-and-Judy tent provided shamefully violent entertainment for the younger children, who shrieked with laughter as Judy belabored her unfortunate husband with a cudgel made of layers of split wood, which gave off a very satisfying CRACK! whenever she made contact.
More shrieks came from a stall where older children were invited to pin the tail on a donkey. The contestants found it more entertaining to peek below their blindfold and stab the pin violently into the oversize backside of the fat knight who was leading the donkey in the colorful illustration. One contestant, overcome with the spirit of the whole thing, managed to shove her pin into the behind of the unfortunate carnival worker who was running the stall. More shrieks greeted that effort, including a very loud one from the victim, who didn’t see it coming.
Among the visiting noblemen and knights, Horace spied Sir Gerald Wollden of Tonbridge Manor. He approached the elderly knight and nodded a friendly greeting.
“Sir Gerald,” he said, “I owe you my thanks for assisting my daughter.”
Sir Gerald, who had just bitten into a hot pie, held up a hand in apology as he negotiated the hot meat and gravy and the delicious, flaky pastry. He gulped, burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he swallowed the mouthful, then had to
take a deep draft on the tankard of ale he held in his left hand before he could reply.
“Your pardon, my lord!” he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Horace smiled and waited patiently. He’d had no intention of embarrassing the older knight. “Take your time, Sir Gerald. There’s no rush,” he said easily.
Sir Gerald swallowed another mouthful of ale to cool his scalded mouth, then made a small bobbing movement that was halfway between a bow and a curtsey.
“I meant to say, my lord, I was delighted to be of service to Princess Madelyn,” he finally managed to enunciate.
Horace gave him moment or two to settle down before continuing. “If you like, I’ll send some men to take those ruffians off your hands. I wouldn’t want you burdened with them.”
“No burden, my lord. They’re more than earning their way. We have a lot of heavy laboring that needs doing round the village, and they’re taking care of it. My people are enjoying having their services available. Only this morning, they cleaned out the cesspit by the inn. Hasn’t been done for some time, and my villagers were happy to have somebody else do it for them.”
Horace had been impressed by Maddie’s intelligent solution to the matter of punishment for the would-be robbers. Far better to have them performing menial and necessary tasks round the village than undergo the more drastic punishment of hanging or removing a hand from the guilty party.
“Very well,” he said. “But make sure you let me know if they become a nuisance—or if you run out of cesspits to empty.”
“I’ll do that, my lord,” Sir Gerald replied, taking another bite of his pie, which had cooled sufficiently to make that a more comfortable matter.
Horace reached out and touched his forearm. “No need to ‘my lord’ me, Sir Gerald,” he said. “I’m no lord. I’m a simple knight like yourself. You can address me as Sir Horace.”
The Red Fox Clan Page 6