By the time I returned to the picnic, the food was gone and the kegs of ale were empty. Brawn’s family were packing up their things while Constance was giving out thanks and promises of a return favor.

Thankfully, Progress was nowhere in sight. I could only imagine that she was hiding somewhere, picking sticky bits of cake out of her hair. Grit was giving his farewells to Brawn’s grandsons of similar status. Everything seemed to be going well until I noticed Swift regaling the girls in her age group with a story of the “bath house brawl” as she called it.

“... and then, the malicious rogue moved to grab our hero around the neck, like this…” She demonstrated the described maneuver by bending over backwards and choking herself with her own hands.

The surrounding group of girls were watching with wide eyes as the unlikely tale of valor proceeded. Since I was a grown man, I couldn’t barge into their conversation without a good reason. I looked around for Constance, but she was occupied with the older women.

Without anyone to stop her, Swift continued on with her tale. “But nay! Brave Euphoria was strong! The foul grip of an underhanded bandit could never overpower her! She leapt out from the water, pushing the villain underneath the restless waves.”

Bandit? Villain? Just what criteria was Swift using for these descriptions of her sister? Obviously, she was imitating the standard heroic vocabulary from the great epics. I sighed in exasperation, watching Swift’s reenactment of the battle continue.

“Did she have a sword? A shield? Nay! Our champion needed no such implements! Her hands were hard, her clenched knuckles sufficient to the challenge. Rawwr! Kersponk! With one slash, she put the outlaw down! The great beast fell back clutching at its ruined face. As always, righteousness stands triumphant! Thus, with such bravery, never again do we need to fear such creatures of the dark!”

Luckily, Progress wasn't present to hear about her ruined face or her ignoble end. The other girls clapped at the conclusion of her account and a few of the younger boys began wandering this way to see what the commotion was about.

Seeing that her story was complete, this was my chance to interrupt. “Swift. Give your farewells. Your friends must go soon and it is time for you to get ready for bed.”

“Yes, father!” She beamed at me, obviously pleased with her performance. However, she was just as eager to excel at her current duties. She moved off into the house, relieving me of one of my worries.

Brawn was the last to leave. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if he would ever go. His booming laughter continued as he extolled my wife’s ageless beauty. This was followed by compliments regarding our children and the state of our house and lands.

In the end, knowing my old friend, I clapped him around the shoulder. “Your wife is waiting for you. Did you drink too much? Should I walk you home?”

“Hahaha! Since when are you looking out for me? Are you saying I’m too old for this?”

“Your beard is turning gray.”

“That’s the color of iron! It shows how tough I am!”

“Iron rusts, old man. You should have said granite instead. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Not before I kiss your pretty wife’s hand!”

“Off with you both!” Constance gave us both a smile as she shut the front door in our face.

Once we’d turned around, I added my own analysis. “I didn’t see you drink that much. You’re acting like a child.”

“Am I?” he smirked at me.

I opened my mouth but then shut it again, giving him a curious look. All of this foolishness was a clever act! I knew from prior experience that his bravado was a facade for the keen mind underneath, but he always managed to surprise me.

Due to his strategy, his family was now walking well ahead. The two of us were bringing up the rear, far behind the others. In other words, he’d figured out a way to speak to me in private without anyone even noticing.

“What did you have in mind?” I spoke quietly.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Just name it! You know how much I owe you!”

“Stay away from the castle.”

“Ehhh?”

“It’s for your own good. There’s trouble.”

“The Seneschal again?”

“Yes and no. It's about money, as usual. In other words, it's for the Duchess. He’s levying extra taxes on the free squires."

"More taxes?" I sighed. Constance would be livid.

"Nothing immediate. It's written as an addition to our heriot duty, so it's not due yet. I suppose he thinks nobody will notice."

Heriot taxes were due at the time a vassal died, unless they died in battle. Originally, the idea was that you'd be returning the gear your lord had given you. For example, each of the serfs working my land owed me their tools if the man of the house passed away. That way, I could give them to the new family that moved in.

Unfortunately, the original meaning had long been lost on us squires. For example, if I died today, I'd owe the Duke a full hauberk, a sword, a spear, plus my horse, Honey. None of those had been given to me by the Duke, so it was effectively just a tax on dying. More reason not to die?

"What is the Seneschal thinking? An increased heriot duty?"

"Since we don't owe loyalty to a knight, he's going to set the heriot for free squires to be the same as if we were knights."

"H-h-how would we ever pay that? A knight has more land to support himself!"

"Obviously, there’s some pushback, but it’s better for you to stay clear. Without the Duke here to speak for us, what can we do?”

“I see. Uhh… I wasn’t planning to go to the castle until the Duke was back anyway.”

“Good, good. Your wife’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

I smiled at his indirect compliment. “Smartest thing I ever did was marry her.”

“That’s true, of course. But that’s not the only thing…”

“What else?”

“Well… your new ‘daughter’ is your own business. But, you chose a bad time to get into trouble. I’d stay out of the castle for a while, even after the Duke comes back.”

“Sounds like you know something.” I glanced over at him while we walked. "What's going on?"

“When’s the last time the Duke rode off to Kingseat without planning it all out beforehand?”

“It was an unannounced trip?”

“He hardly had time to gather his retinue. I’m guessing the king is ill.”

“Oh. Yeah. That would be a problem.” I put a hand up to hold my aching forehead.

“Hahaha! It’s more like a disaster. He’s chosen his son, the Duke of Easthane as his heir.”

“Ahh… that’ll mean another war.” I looked up into the starry sky and sighed.

“Unless the other Dukes fall into line, but you can bet that they won’t. The half-brothers have never been his allies or friends. They weren’t even raised in the same house.”

Our little kingdom was sandwiched between natural barriers and the plainsmen to the north. You’d expect us to prosper, but historically, we always turned upon ourselves. In this case, the first prince was a child of the king’s first wife. But after she passed away, his second wife bore him three more sons. The four duchies were split among them. At this point, it was a question of legitimacy versus strength.

I shook my head. “All we can do is pray.”

“Pray… and stay out of trouble. You wouldn’t want to be chosen as part of the vanguard, would you?”

“Not me! We both know it’s more gore than glory!”

He clapped an arm around my shoulder, “None of my predictions may come true. None of this may happen. Or… it may not matter anyway. Or… it may be that your son needs more riding lessons. How’s his horsemanship?”

In other words, Grit would need to be ready to ride to war. “He’s doing well, but we only have Honey! Grit can't ride a mule into battle!”

“Then, you should be looking to get another horse - and soon!”

That was indeed good advice. The odds of survival for cavalry were much higher than that for footmen. Mainly because if a battle went badly, the cavalry could ride away while the footmen would get chased down and captured for ransom. In the worst cases, they'd simply be killed and looted.

“Maybe I should be looking for TWO more horses.”

“Ehh? Why? Horses are expensive.” He peered at me.

“You saw that Eu was wearing a sword?”

At that, he gave me a deep frown, “What’s that about? What are you thinking?”

“She’s a magician.”

“Oh! OHHH! Now, THAT changes things!”

The conversation paused as I saw him thinking things through.

When he looked back at me, I asked him for more advice, “How much does a horse cost? My father bought Honey for me before he passed away.”

“Too much. You’ll need to talk to the money lenders. On the other hand, the cost of a pony is nowhere near that of a trained warhorse. They’re easier to keep too.”

“That’s true! Eu is so tiny! A warhorse would be too big for her anyway.”

He rubbed a hand through his beard. “If she’s a mage, what can she do?”

“I don’t know… it’s all weird. I’m no scholar!”

“Maybe you should find one. I’ve got a fellow I can recommend to you.”

“That’s a great idea! Oh, but what about the Seneschal? Can this scholar hold his tongue?”

He grinned back at me. “That depends, but I know this fellow's weak spot. I’ll help you out.”

“Please and thank you!”