Chapter 4

Michael blocked a final blow from the trainee's sword, then stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Good," he praised the eager young fighter. "That was much better. Go practice shield work with Martin, and I'll be with you in a few minutes."

He walked across the training field and got a dipper of water from the communal bucket, eyeing the sun halfway across the sky. Most of the morning had been spent in sword drill with the new recruits, the rest of it in advanced training with some of the more experienced fighters.

The king's best troops, including much of the Royal Guard, had been in the forefront of the battle with Rohannon and had taken the brunt of his attack. Now the Guard was struggling not only to replace those men, but to find enough expert warriors to train them. The grizzled old weapons master, himself brought out of a well-earned retirement, considered the two knights a godsend, and had immediately put them to work.

"You're good," he approved as he came up to Michael now. "You have a lot of patience with them."

Michael shrugged noncommittally. "They're doing the best they can. Losing my temper won't make them do any better."

"You're a good instructor," Larim reiterated. "I don't suppose you and your partner would be interested in another job as well? It will pay twice as much as this does."

"What kind of job?" David walked up behind them, slicking his sweat-soaked blond hair back with one hand and taking the dipper from Michael with the other.

"The princes' trainer was among the Guard that were killed in the first attack. I need to find a replacement for him."

"They don't train with the squires?" Michael asked.

"No," Larim replied resignedly. "They haven't for several years."

"Why not?" David asked bluntly.

"Their motivation and skills are..." Larim struggled to find a tactful way to put it, "erratic. If they're interested in something they're excellent students. If they aren't, they're..." he struggled with tact again, then gave up, "holy terrors. And the squires followed their every lead."

The knights nodded. From their brief encounters with the princes, they could imagine the chaos the young men could cause if they wanted to. They glanced at each other speculatively.

"Let us talk it over," Michael requested. "Can we give you an answer tomorrow?"

"That would be fine," Larim nodded, happy that they were at least going to consider the idea.

"What do you think?" David asked after Larim had walked away.

"I think it's an excellent way to spend time with the princes without Andronicus getting suspicious of our motives." Michael replied. "If the princes agree to our plan."

"Do you think they will?"

"I hope so." Michael took the dipper back for a last swallow of water. "For their sakes, as well as ours."

~~~~~

The two knights met in the doorway of the Dining Hall shortly before the evening meal.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Michael asked David.

"Nothing. You?"

"No, but they were watching us on the hunt earlier."

"When do you think they're going to decide?"

"I don't know. Soon, I hope. We need to give Larim an answer tomorrow, and it might be kind of awkward to work with them if they turn us down."

"Excuse me."

They turned to see the princes standing behind them, resplendent in crimson silk that clung to their forms, leaving little to the imagination

"Excuse me," one of them repeated coldly. "You're blocking the door."

"Oh. Sorry," David replied, bowing slightly and stepping to one side.

The princes swept by them without another word and sat down at the head table.

The knights rolled their eyes, then took their places at one of the lower tables as usual; exchanging stories with the men around them, laughing about the events of the hunt that afternoon.

As Michael emptied his goblet of wine, a servant refilled it and handed it back to him along with a small token.

"Go with the person that gives you a matching one," he breathed almost silently.

Michael gave no sign that he'd heard, merely palmed the token and slipped it into his belt pouch as soon as he could do so without being seen.

Catching David's eye, he gave an infinitesimal nod. This was it.

Although they remained alert the rest of the evening, nobody approached either of them.

"Nothing?" David asked Michael yet again as they took a break from the dancing.

"Nothing," Michael confirmed. "And the King and Queen are retiring. I don't think we're going to hear anything more tonight."

"I wish they'd hurry up," David groused. "I hate waiting."

"I've noticed," Michael said drily. "But I don't see that we have much choice. Unless you'd like to go rope climbing again tonight?"

"No, thank you." David shuddered, thinking of the climb back up the rope and the close call they'd had when one of the guards returned unexpectedly. "I think I'll just wait another day."

"Then I think we might as well call it a night as well."

Michael had just sat down on the bed in his small chamber and removed his boots when there was a soft knock at his door. When he opened it, there was a nondescript man dressed in the princes' livery standing in the corridor, glancing nervously from side to side.

"I'm Joris. I'm from Their Highnesses." He held a token for the knight to see, then looked around him into the bedchamber. "Where's the other one?"

"In his chamber," Michael answered, somewhat amused at the man's attitude.

"I would have thought that you could have stayed together." Joris seemed somewhat disgruntled. "I shouldn't be seen in this part of the castle."

"If we'd known you were going to be this late, we would have," Michael retorted. "Give me a minute to get my boots back on."

With an audible sigh, Joris sidled into the room and waited impatiently while Michael got his boots on and knocked on David's door.

"This is it," he told the blond knight, nodding toward his own door. "I have the messenger in my chamber."

"Let me get my boots back on," David replied.

There was another elaborate sigh from the room next door.

~~~~~

Moving quickly and quietly, Joris led them down through the servants quarters and then back up to the princes' apartments. The guards at the door stared straight ahead, apparently oblivious to the visitors, but the knights knew they would be recognized again.

Entering the princes' solar, they sat in the same chairs they had the prior evening and Joris served them wine. After some time, the young princes entered from one of the bedchambers, still wearing the crimson garb they had earlier.

Crossing to the settee, they sat together, taking the goblets that Joris held out for them. There was a long silence as the princes and knights drank their wine and studied each other. Finally the princes broke the silence.

"We've considered your theory," one of them - presumably Ty'lin - began, "And we agree that it has merit, at least more merit than any of the plans we've heard so far. We would like to accept your offer, but there are certain conditions that would have to be met."

"And these conditions are..." David toyed idly with his goblet as he spoke.

"This arrangement must remain known only to the four of us. We'll be blunt with you. We don't want to die. But we also don't want to be held up for ridicule and humiliation if people learn what we've done to save ourselves. It is difficult enough for us to hold the respect of the court. If this were to get out, our father might as well find new heirs right now, because we would never be able to rule effectively."

"The other condition is..." He paused, his customary self-confidence deserting him, and his brother took up the conversation.

"We would like to have some time to get to know you." Ky'lin blushed slightly. We've- we've never done anything like this before, and this isn't the way we pictured it happening. We thought that perhaps Joris could bring you here in the evening after the rest of the castle has retired, and we could become acquainted, without other people knowing or speculating about it."

"We can agree with those conditions," Michael assured them, curiously touched by their diffidence. "His Majesty will have to be told at some point, but I don't see why anyone else should know."

"Particularly the wizard," David interjected. "We don't like or trust the man."

"Very few people do," Ty'lin replied. "But we don't see how he could harm us."

"If he finds out while you're still virgins, he could broadcast the news about the court as if he had solved the riddle," Michael pointed out. "And possibly arrange to have the Champion chosen by himself or his cronies."

"And make as much of a public spectacle of it as possible," Ky'lin agreed. "He would love to see us humiliated like that."

"We'd rather not do anything to further arouse his suspicions. It would probably be best if we have limited contact in public. We'll continue to act as if we're looking for brides, and you continue to behave like..." Too late, David realized the trap he was setting for himself.

"Larim has offered us positions as your weapons trainers," Michael smoothly took over the conversation. "That will give us a legitimate reason for some contact with you."

"That's an excellent idea," Ty'lin approved. "We can get to know each other better during the time when we're supposed to be practicing."

"No," the knight corrected him. "We can talk before or afterwards, but during practice you're going to be concentrating on improving your weapons skills, not chatting."

The princes glanced at each other in their silent communication.

"If that's all, we'll let you get some rest." Ty'lin stood and held out his hand to David. "Joris will escort you past the guards again tomorrow night, and then give you the schedules of the guards we can trust. We know that certain ones are in the pay of the queen and/or the wizard, and we'll get them moved away from the late evening shifts, but it will take a little time to do it without arousing suspicion."

As the other two walked toward the door together, Michael turned to Ky'lin and cupped his palm over the smooth cheek of the younger man. Ky flinched, but stood his ground.

"You're going to have to get used to my touch, little one," Michael said gently, and brushed his lips across the full pouting ones before following his partner out the door.

Ky'lin stood staring after him with wide eyes, fingers pressed against his lips.

~~~~

"Didn't you have time to change?" David asked as the princes entered the indoor training area for their first lesson.

Michael was busy chasing the last of the would-be gawkers out of the building. After a couple more conversations with the willful young princes, the knights had wisely decided that these sessions had better be private for a while.

"Change?" Ty'lin asked innocently, looking down at the silk and suede outfit he was wearing. "Is there something wrong with this?"

"I told you, Ty," Ky'lin chimed in. "We should never have tried to wear this shade of blue with gold. I told you it went better with silver."

David rolled his eyes. "The colors are fine, Ky'lin. But silk has a tendency to bind and chafe when you get hot and sweaty."

"Hot?" Ty'lin asked in a puzzled tone.

"Sweaty?" Ky'lin echoed the tone.

"Don't you usually get hot and sweaty doing weapons work?" David asked in exasperation.

"We never have before," Ty'lin informed him.

"But we suppose there could always be a first time," Ky'lin offered generously.

"Fortunately, I anticipated this." Michael came up behind them. "The squires' wardrobe mistress very kindly loaned me some clothing for you to wear. Change."

The princes eyed the rough homespun shirts and breeches with horror.

"You want us to wear those?" Ty'lin asked faintly. "They look... used."

"They are used," Michael said acerbically. "But they're clean. And if you don't like it, next time you can show up in something appropriate. Now put them on."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm a prince. I don't wear used clothing."

"Fine. You can fight naked then."

Brown eyes warred with blue as the princes stood their ground.

"Ty'lin," David broke the deadlock, "you either change willingly, or I'll strip you myself."

"You wouldn't dare!"

David took a step toward the crown prince, reaching for the young man's belt.

"Fine! I'll do it myself!" Ty'lin knocked his hand away. "Gods! Some people! You give them a little power and it goes straight to their heads!"

The knights stood with their arms folded, watching as the reluctant young men changed into the new - used - garments.

"Now," Michael took the lead again. "We're going to work with each weapon for about a half candlemark, just to get an idea of your skill with each one."

"Shouldn't we be wearing armor?" Ty'lin stalled.

"Do you have armor?" David asked.

"Of course we have it!" Ky replied hotly. "It's in our chambers."

"Bring it next time," Michael ordered. "For today you can do without it. We won't hurt you."

"Shouldn't you be wearing it?" Ty'lin asked impudently. "What if we hurt you?"

"In your dreams," David retorted. "Now, as Michael was saying, we're going to work with each weapon for about a half candlemark."

"That won't work," Ty'lin informed him after surveying the array of weapons.

"Why not?" Michael asked.

"Because there are eight weapons there, and we only have three candlemarks left. There isn't time for all of them," Ky explained.

"Training starts when you're properly attired and ready to practice," David said sternly. "Not before."

"That's not fair!" Ty'lin yelped indignantly. "Nobody told us that!"

"So now you know for next time." Michael showed no sympathy for the pouting young men. "Let's start with long swords."

"We can't fight with long swords," Ty'lin objected.

"Why not?" Michael held onto his patience with iron control.

"Have you ever lifted one of those things?" Ky asked indignantly.

"All the time."

"Then you ought to know why!" Ty'lin took over the argument. "The damned things weigh almost as much as we do. We have trouble lifting them; there's no way we can swing one without falling flat on our faces."

"Fine," Michael said through gritted teeth. "We'll start with the short sword. Do you have an objection to the short sword?"

His tone said that they had better not if they knew what was good for them, and the twins wisely withheld any further objections.

~~~~~

Four candlemarks later all of them were hot and sweaty, and tempers were short, but the knights had found out what they needed to know. The princes were brilliant with long distance weapons; their speed and accuracy with long bows, crossbows, and throwing spears was phenomenal. They could usually hit their targets with axes or maces - as long as the targets were stationary - but with swords or daggers they were more of a danger to each other than to their enemies, and they were absolutely hopeless with any type of ball and chain weapon. Ty'lin was still nursing a bruised shoulder after losing an altercation with his morning star.

"So we need to work on your defensive weapons," Michael said briskly, as they cooled off afterwards.

"Why?" Ty'lin asked, rubbing his shoulder resentfully. "It's not like an enemy is ever going to get that close to us. We'd be surrounded by an entire troop, if we even made it to the battlefield."

"And what if your troop gets killed?" David asked.

"We get taken prisoner and ransomed."

"What if someone tries to assassinate you?"

"We shout for help."

"What if help isn't available?"

"What if the sky turns pink and rains diamonds and emeralds?" Ky asked sarcastically.

"What if I tell you I'll whip your butt if you don't learn?" Michael replied in exasperation

"You can't do that. We're the Royal Heirs," Ty'lin informed him. "We can have you beheaded."

"Then we'll make sure we do a good job first. You can sit on a large cushion to pronounce the sentence."

"Fine. If you feel that strongly about it, we can probably spare you two mornings a week," Ty'lin offered graciously.

"Six."

"Impossible."

"Gods!" David said after an agreement had finally been reached and the twins had made their escape. "Do they ever agree to anything without an argument?"

"I don't think they're used to taking orders," Michael replied drily.