“Lousy mutt,” Randall grumbled, as he headed back to the castle.
* * * *
“YOU'RE LATE,” said Sir William.
“And you're filthy,” added Princess Janice.
“And you smell terrible,” said Sir William.
“And you're tracking dirt all over,” added Princess Janice.
“And your shirt is torn,” said Sir William.
“And you didn't brush your teeth,” added Princess Janice.
“And your hair is uncombed,” said Sir William.
“And your earwax is leaking,” added Princess Janice.
“I should break your neck,” said Sir William.
“I should have him break your neck,” added Princess Janice.
Randall stared at the floor and tried to look ashamed. He could see his reflection in the smooth tile, and used it to adjust his expression to the proper degree of penitence. Mouth turned down slightly, eyes filled with regret, nose not involved. When it appeared Sir William and the princess were either done chastising him or pausing for breath, he looked up and favored both of them with his finely tuned expression.
“Wipe that ridiculous expression off your face,” ordered Sir William. “You look like you're about to give birth.”
Randall glanced down at his expression again. No, he looked ashamed all right. Perhaps gravity had disrupted the effect when he raised his head. He looked up again, this time making a great effort to hold the expression in place.
“How dare you give me that seductive look?” asked the princess. “You're not worthy to lick the dried lint from between my toes! I'll have your unappealing carcass thrown into the coal mines to test bats for rabies!”
“I'm sorry,” said Randall in a small, hopefully ashamed-sounding voice.
“That's better,” remarked Sir William. “Now go get cleaned up. Quickly! We can't have you escorting royalty looking like a vagrant! What will people say?”
“'Look, there's a vagrant escorting royalty. How tacky!'” offered Randall, helpfully.
“Sir William, go see that the horses are ready,” said Princess Janice. “I think your squire needs to be taught a lesson.”
An uproariously funny comment about giving his old teacher a call sprang into Randall's mind, but he had the good sense to squelch it. Then he decided that it wasn't nearly as amusing as it had seemed at first, and forgot it altogether.
Sir William exited the chamber, shutting the door behind him. After he left, the princess shook her head. “He really is a wiener, isn't he?”
Randall hesitated. Agreeing that a knight was a wiener didn't seem overly wise, even when the wiener status had been bestowed by a princess.
“It's okay,” she said. “You don't have to say anything that would result in Sir William showing you a guaranteed cure for masculinity. I just want to get out into the open that he's a jerk. When a man's a jerk, it doesn't matter if he's good-looking, as Sir William most certainly is. Really, when you think about it, so what if he has gorgeous eyes that just about bring me to my knees? And a smile that makes me tingle inside. What good is that if he's a jerk? Do you know what I'm saying?”
Randall nodded that he did.
“And those bulging biceps, that ripple when he walks? Who cares? I'm not even concerned with his chest of pure, throbbing muscle that glistens with wet, delicious beads of perspiration and is like solid steel when I run my hands along it.”
She shivered with excitement.
“And his rear? Oh, sure it's firm, perfectly-shaped, and tightly-packed. Sure, it makes my salivary glands lose control. Sure, I want nothing more out of life than to grab hold of it and just squeeze!”
She mimed this with both hands.
“But he's a jerk, so who cares?”
“Not me.”
“So if I scold you, it's simply because a princess must take a knight's side over that of a squire. It's not because I agree with him. And certainly not because I'm driven to the brink of madness with lust. Do you understand?”
“I believe so.”
“Good. Go get cleaned up. I need some privacy.”
* * * *
HALF AN HOUR later, they were riding along the countryside. The princess was on her own horse, Squish III. Her body pressed forward into the wind. Her long, golden hair flew out behind her. Randall wondered if she'd notice later how much of it was missing.
She was a fairly attractive woman, which was interesting because everyone agreed that both the king and queen had more than a trace of canine in their appearance. At twenty, she was the youngest of the three princesses, and the only unmarried one. She was also the only one who had more than the brain power of lard. Princess Janice frequently acted as a diplomat between the nearby kingdoms, and had been responsible for such projects as the Pet Leash Law (revoked two weeks later when a certain dog owner got carried away with role reversal), organizing the Six Kingdom Music Contest (which, sadly, promoted a great deal of ill-feelings when the winning song was “Spank Me With Your Tongue"), and the very first September Fool's Day (also the last, though she couldn't possibly have foreseen the immense number of distasteful gags involving umbilical cords).
Randall was curious about what she was going to do in Rainey Kingdom, but neither she nor Sir William had volunteered the information, so he didn't ask.
They rode throughout the morning and well into the afternoon, stopping only for lunch and to give the horses an occasional back massage. Then, around three o'clock, a series of events was triggered that could best be described as “bad.”
“I don't recall this being here before,” said Sir William, bringing his horse to a stop. Randall and the princess stopped on each side of him. They were at the edge of a thick, dark forest. A trail led into the trees, but they could only see it for a few feet before it was engulfed by darkness.
“It wasn't,” agreed Princess Janice. “I've been this way several times, and there was never any forest. There's some sort of magic at work here.”
“Or an agricultural breakthrough,” added Randall.
There was a large wooden sign nailed to a tree. The nail looked suspiciously like bone, and the words looked suspiciously like blood. The wood was, mercifully, wood. Beware! You Are About to Enter the FOREST OF DEATH!
“I wonder what creative genius came up with that name?” Randall muttered.
“I'll go first,” offered Sir William.
“I'll ride in the middle,” offered Randall, “just in case they think the person in the safest position is the one they should attack.”
Sir William drew his sword. “Let us go. Slowly.”
Carefully, the three of them directed their horses down the path into the forest. All light seemed to vanish. They could hear the wind, but none of the leaves were rustling. Thud began to whinny softly, and Randall stroked the horse gently along its neck. This unexpected touch scared the living daylights out of the animal and caused it to rear up onto its hind legs, dumping Randall to the ground. Thud turned around and took off running back in the direction of Mosiman Kingdom.
“Are you all right?” Princess Janice asked. “How many fingers am I holding up?” She lifted her left hand and held up three fingers.
“Three,” Randall replied. He blinked. “On each hand.”
“Get up, squire,” said Sir William. “We haven't got time for this nonsense! Or any nonsense, for that matter.”
Randall sat up. Then he lay right back down again to make a more difficult target for the numerous arrows he could see pointing at them from amongst the trees.
“I think we have kind of a serious problem,” Randall noted.
An arrow sailed through the air, swishing right past Sir William's face. He turned Crunch around in the direction from which the arrow had been shot. “Come out and fight like a non-female!” he demanded.