Percy coughed and harrumphed loudly. The poor lad still hadn’t fully recovered from the shock of a few nights ago when he’d happened upon his master and the princess sharing an ill-advised, albeit rather passionate, kiss.
Incredibly, Percy had even dared tackle Anselm about it.
“It isn’t seemly, m’lord,” he’d scolded as he dressed his master’s battered ribs. “I could hardly believe my eyes, you taking advantage of the princess in such an unseemly manner.”
By taking him to task so fearlessly, Percy immediately went up several more notches in Anselm’s estimation. Surely this brave young man would become a great knight one day.
“You saw us, did you?” Anselm tried not to smile. “Then if you’d walked in on us just a little sooner, Percy lad, you’d know precisely who instigated that kiss. Yes, I was weak, I admit it, but the princess wasn’t entirely blameless eith— Ouch!” Percy pulled the bandage a little too tightly about his aching ribcage. “Be a little gentler, why don’t you?”
Percy looked up at him, his honest eyes clouded with worry. “Perhaps I ought not to mention it, master, but there has already been some… talk about you. In the ranks, I mean.”
“Oh?” Anselm sighed. What was he supposed to have done this time? No matter where he went, or however well he behaved, the gossips seemed to thrive on his wrongdoings—be they real or imaginary. “What sort of talk? Do tell.” This ought to be entertaining. With luck, it might divert his mind from his many aches and woes. He gave a sharp hiss of pain. Yes, one of his accursed ribs was definitely broken.
“They say… ” Percy glanced over his shoulder, no doubt making sure Miriam wasn’t about to walk by. “They say,” he continued in the same low voice, “that you committed some terrible crimes back when you were Lord Godric’s man.”
Ye Gods. Not this again. Would he never be free from the chains of his past? Anselm regarded Percy closely. “Another man might say that I was only following orders. Tell me, Percy. If Lord Edgeway commanded you to lead an attack on a village known to shelter murderous outlaws—evil-doers who opposed his law—would you obey him?”
“Well, y-yes. I suppose I would. But Lord Vadim’s different, isn’t he? He’s not like that.”
“Ah, but let’s suppose for the sake of this discussion that Vadim is like that, as you so eloquently put it. What then, hmm? Would you defy his will and risk a charge of insubordination, or would you choose to honor the vows you made to your liege lord, instead, and carry out his orders? If you did obey him, how might your actions—the actions of an obedient soldier, you remember—be judged in the future, particularly by the grieving relatives of the souls you cut down?”
Percy considered for a moment. “Well… when you put it like that.” A sudden light flashed within his honest eyes. “But what about the women, sir? All those helpless virgins it is said you deflowered. Do you deny that—?”
Anselm laughed. “You make me sound like some kind of rogue gardener, Percy. There he be!” he said, adopting the stoop and the broad accent of an aged seadog. “Arr! ’Tis the dreaded knight Sir Anselm. Guard your blossoms well, and ’ware the swing of his knife lest he deadheads you too.” Utterly ridiculous. Anselm clutched his throbbing ribs, chuckling at the stupidity of it all.
But Percy wasn’t amused. “It ain’t no laughing matter, m’lord, and I won’t stand by and watch in silence whilst you plot the ruin of another innocent young wom—”
Anselm immediately sobered, his temper finally roused. “Honorable though your sentiments may be, you sometimes go too far, Percy. No, be silent!” he roared when his pale-faced squire would have spoken. “Before you judge a man and condemn him to his fate, you might at least have the decency to allow him to speak in his own defense. Now, while I don’t know what kind of nonsense those foolish knights and squires have stuffed your head with, I can well imagine the sort of cheap talk that occupies such simple minds.”
Pulling the bandage from Percy’s hand, Anselm quickly tied off the ends and pulled his shirt over his head, too angry to heed any discomfort.
“If you want the truth, here it is: contrary to popular belief, I have fucked far fewer women than you might imagine. The vast majority were whores of one kind or another, both high born and low. Believe you me, my boy, I paid extremely well for their services. Some far more generously than they deserved.” Suddenly, Anselm recalled the frumpy wife of an elderly baron who’d thrown herself at him after a feast, begging him to service her. Drunk as he so often was in those days, and quite in the mood to be obliging, Anselm had taken pity on the poor wretch. However, she’d screamed and wept throughout the entire act of copulation, urging him to continue when he would have preferred to slink away. ’Twas the only time he’d ever had cause to fake a climax. A most disagreeable experience, indeed. Still, the woman had departed with a smile on her face.
Each to their own, he supposed.
“So you have n-never—?”
“Never!”
Grabbing Percy by his tunic, Anselm hauled him in until they were almost too close for comfort. Tough. The lad needed a lesson. One he would always remember.
“Look at me, Percy. Take time to properly study the handsome visage before you. Consider, if you will, its pleasing regularity, the well-balanced proportions, and the fine symmetry of its features. Oh, to be sure I am a little battered and travel-worn at the moment, but despite all the bruises, surely even you must see that I am not, what might be considered, unattractive. Indeed, on a good day some ladies have even gone so far as to call me ‘swoon-some’.”
Percy tried to pull back, but Anselm hadn’t finished with him yet.
“When the Great Spirit, in his wisdom, has seen fit to bless me with such an abundance of manly charms, would you kindly tell me why you think I would ever have to resort to the loathsome act of forcing myself upon an unwilling woman?
“If you and I are to continue on our path together, Percy,” Anselm continued when his squire seemed set on staying quiet, “there’s something I must first know. My reputation as a blackguard has long been known in the Norlands. My question to you is this; why ever did you consent to become my squire in the first place, eh?”
“B-Because Lord Vadim asked a boon of my f-father and—”
Vadim!
“I might have known.” With a sound of disgust, Anselm shoved Percy away. “Go to bed, squire. Be gone. I have no further need of you this evening. Go!” he snapped when the boy still lingered, saddle pack in hand. “Once we return to civilization, I will release you from my service.”
Adopting a distinctly mulish stance, Percy suddenly jutted out his jaw. “No.”
“No?” Anselm paused as he was about to take a swift sip from the flask of spirit he’d stolen from the pirates. “What is it you object to now, boy? Being dismissed for the night or from my service?”
“I do not wish to be released from your service, m’lord.”
“Are you quite certain of that? Think carefully, lad. I warn you now, you shall be given no other opportunity to rid yourself of my tainted company.”
“Forgive me, master.” Percy hung his head and looked chastened. “I should have heeded my own instincts. Listening to gossip seldom ends well.”
Since Anselm was now in the mood to vent his spleen, he decided to unburden himself even further, purely for the pleasure of watching his squire squirm. “Then, here’s something else for you to consider, Percy. Ever since my former master tried to gut me, I’ve been as innocent as a eunuch. I haven’t been able to raise a smile in many, many months.”
Percy frowned. “A smile?”
“Not so much as a bloody smirk.”
Well, up until fairly recently, at least. Not until Miriam, but there was no need for full disclosure, was there?
Percy stared blankly at him, apparently perplexed.
“Oh, don’t be such a lack-wit, boy.” How
much of a hint did he require, for heaven’s sake? With a heavy sigh, Anselm directed a quick downward glance to emphasize his meaning. “Standing to attention? Raising the standard? The soldier in your trews? Lifting the old battering ram? Does anything I’m saying mean anything to you? Anything at all?”
“Oh!” A fresh tide of high color flooded Percy’s cheeks. “I see what you mean, m’lord.”
Thank the spirits for that. For a moment there, Anselm feared he might have to provide the boy with a more hands-on explanation.
“So you understand, then, that I am no threat to any woman, least of all the fair princess. The same, however, cannot be said of my own safety. As my faithful squire, I rely on you to insure that the princess and I do not find ourselves in any more… interesting situations.”
“Consider it done, m’lord.” Percy stood a little taller, his scrawny chest puffed out. “You can rely on me.”
From that moment on, as good as his word, Percy increased his vigilance to such a point that Anselm had trouble going anywhere on his own, even to relieve his bowels. Still, he felt a little easier knowing he had a diligent squire to chaperone him.
Thus far, their ploy seemed to be working nicely. As the leagues slipped by, Miriam had gradually become more aloof and distant from him—mentally, if not physically.
Oh, for sure, involving Percy was an underhanded tactic. A coward’s way out. But the truth was, Anselm simply didn’t trust himself around Miriam any more. Not since she’d so unwittingly cured him of his most intimate of afflictions.
Having a flaccid cock for the rest of his days wasn’t a fate he’d relished, but now that the worst appeared to be over, Anselm looked forward to getting his manhood back into training. Perhaps when they reached the next sizable town he would take Percy to visit the local whorehouse as a treat for his recent loyalty.
All things considered, the boy was shaping up rather nicely.
At long last, they reached the stone cairn which marked the furthest border of Nakara. Finally. A heartfelt sigh escaped Miriam’s lips.
Anselm was immediately solicitous. “What is it? Are you weary, Princess? We’re almost there. Perhaps you should consider riding the rest of the way.”
“No thank you, m’lord,” Miriam said, resorting to more of the calm politeness that had marked their journey in recent days. “I’m quite happy to walk, I assure you.” While that wasn’t entirely truthful, it was better than the alternative.
Ever since the night of that ill-considered moonlight kiss, sharing a horse with Anselm had become near on intolerable. To feel the heat of his chest pressed up against her back, to be secured between his powerful thighs, his arm enfolding her waist, was more than she could bear.
That kiss had changed everything.
It was odd, but suddenly she felt different. In his presence, she was ever aware of him and her own womanhood. She felt… vulnerable, more feminine, somehow, and she didn’t care for that at all.
Using the excuse of wanting to save the strength of their last sound horse, Miriam elected to walk the rest of the way to Nakara. Of course, ever the considerate knight, Anselm declared he would not ride either, not while the king’s sister walked, and so he had dismounted too.
Obstinate, infuriating man.
Pushing back a strand of damp hair from her face, Miriam took a drink from the dwindling supplies of her water bottle. While the water was unpleasantly warm and tasted slightly gritty, she relished the way it lubricated her parched mouth and slipped so smoothly down her dry throat, temporarily washing away the accumulated dust.
Their long drought would soon be over. Any moment now they would see Nakara shimmering on the horizon, rising like a distant mirage to tempt the weary traveler. Never had the prospect of reaching any place been so welcome as it was now. In all of her life, Miriam couldn’t ever recall feeling quite so worn out, both in body and soul.
This was the closest she’d ever come to admitting defeat. Only her beaten pride kept her up on her own two feet.
Absently, she touched her hair. It felt hard and tangled, stiff with dust and sweat. What a fright she must look—no wonder Sir Anselm was so determinedly avoiding her. What she wouldn’t give for a long, cool soak, a clean set of clothes, and a full night’s sleep in a soft, comfortable bed.
The trials of the recent days had left their mark upon all of them in one way or another. Although neither man had uttered a word of complaint, Percy kept dozing off as he walked only to jerk himself awake a moment later. Anselm, meanwhile, looked grayer with every league. Shuffling like an old man, he kept one arm about his middle like a permanent fixture. Even the horses were exhausted, poor things. Heads drooping dejectedly, they plodded along wearily, their hooves making scuff marks in the dirt.
At long last, they entered the village of Nakara. As soon as they arrived, swarms of men, women, and children descended upon them, all of them smiling, all curious to glimpse the new arrivals. A fountain bubbled up from the ground at the center of the paved village square, beckoning them forward with its glittering tinkling. The horses immediately made straight for the basin at the fountain’s base and dipped their noses into the cool, clear water.
The head man of Nakara arrived, pushing his way through the growing crowd, his blue robes swirling, his plump face beaming with delight.
“Well, as I live and breathe!” he cried. “If it isn’t our dear Princess Miriam. Welcome, welcome one and all. Truly, you honor our humble village with your presence, m’lady.”
“Thank you.” Smiling, Miriam extended both hands to her old friend. “Why so formal, Otto? I’m the little girl you used to carry around on your shoulders, remember?”
“True, true. But you’re all grown up now, Princess.” Taking her hands, Otto planted a light rapid kiss on both of her cheeks. “A real lady, no less. ” He glanced down at her trews and wrinkled his nose. “I see you still have a fondness for men’s clothing. I thought you might have outgrown that unfortunate habit.”
Miriam sighed. “It’s a long story, dear friend, one I will gladly recount over supper. In the meantime, however, my companions and I are most weary—”
“Of course. Say no more, say no more.” With two claps of his pudgy hands, Otto summoned an obedient scurry of smiling servants, all ready and eager to please their genial master. “Please see to it that the animals of our most honored guests are well cared for. Now, where’s Melinda? Ah, there you are, my dear. Please prepare baths and bedchambers for our three young friends.”
The middle-aged woman bowed her head. “At once, master.”
As Otto noted Anselm’s pale face, his smile faltered and slid into a frown. “And perhaps you might summon a physician, also, for you, dear sir, if you will forgive my saying so, look most unwell. Most unwell indeed.”
Miriam could have kicked herself for neglecting the necessary introductions, but this oversight was soon set to rights. As she said what was necessary, for the first time in hours, she dared to look directly at Anselm.
She gasped. Otto was right to be concerned. Anselm looked so pale and drawn, with dark half-circles etched beneath his dull gray eyes.
Despite his obvious discomfort, Anselm managed to smile, bow, and exchange a word or two of polite friendliness as befitted the occasion and the effusive hospitality of their host. As the two men clasped hands, Miriam found herself smiling almost as much as Otto. For some inexplicable reason, it mattered to her that her old friends should think well of her new ones.
Placing one plump arm about Anselm’s shoulders and the other about Percy, Otto gently steered them toward the shadowed path that ran around the back of the house.
“Come, my friends. While my housekeeper prepares your rooms, let us get out of this accursed heat for a while and take some refreshment together out on the terrace. At this time of day, it is most pleasant, and there is such a fine view of the mountains… ”
As the men departed, Miriam was delayed by the villagers and their children, all noisily vying for the attention of their princess. She laughed, overwhelmed by their happy chatter, and paused to speak with them. At length, Miriam was finally able to follow her companions. As she trudged off after the men, two little girls clung stubbornly to each of her hands, both chattering loudly.
As much as Miriam loved children, she was so weary she could hardly concentrate on all the children had to tell her, especially as they kept speaking over one another in their haste to be heard. However, she smiled frequently and nodded just as often, so the children were content.
As they reached the back of the house, one of the serving girls shooed the children away then she escorted Miriam down to Otto’s beloved terrace. The headman had always been extremely proud of his outside living area and with good reason. While it wasn’t so grand as the terrace back home, Miriam had always preferred Otto’s humbler, homelier garden room.
Set out on two levels, the honey-paved terrace looked out onto the remarkable vista of the distant mountain range, their jagged lilac peaks hazy against the pale blue sky.
Areas of lush, fragrant planting had been carefully set out between the sumptuously cushioned seating areas on each level. Although the terrace was open to the elements, Otto’s guests found themselves in a surprising and most welcome sanctuary away from the harsh specter of the sun, shaded overhead by perfumed climbing plants growing side by side with vines full of pendulous bunches of grapes—deep purple and swollen to almost bursting with a sweetness Miriam’s tongue recalled with sudden clarity.
She looked longingly at the fat purple grapes. Her mouth, and throat were as dry and parched as the desert. Suddenly, she remembered the sensation of the fruit bursting open upon her tongue in a sweet rush of delicate nectar.
Otto stood up and waved to her from an area of seating concealed by a thick wall of greenery. “Ah. There she is at last. Over here, Miriam, dear.”
Eager to sample some of the cool refreshing lemon drink Otto was sure to have provided for his guests, Miriam hastened across the terrace. However, she wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her.
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