"Well, therein may I agree with her," Catharine said judiciously, "for Geoffrey is more filled with masculine non sense than most—if thou wilt forgive the observation, Gwendylon."
"When did truth need forgiveness?" Gwen returned, though she could have added, "Frequently."
"They are so ridiculous!" Catharine fumed. "They will likely follow a day's pace behind—too distant to protect 'gainst assassins, too close for the boys to know they must trust to themselves!"
"Aye, 'tis most ridiculous," Gwen agreed, "but then, so are Geoffrey and Alain. Still, I doubt not that Brom's forces will be near. The young men will be protected, never fear." She knew, far better than Catharine, exactly how ubiquitous and effective Brom's troops were—his personal forces, at least. She had been raised by the elves, and they had no secrets from her, except the name of her father.
"Well—I warrant the men can do the boys no harm," Catharine grudged.
"We must let this issue pass, as we do so many that are really of no consequence," Gwen agreed.
"Still..." Catharine turned to her with a glint in her eye.
Gwen braced herself. "Aye, Majesty?"
"Why should not the followers be followed?" Catharine said, with a wicked smile.
Slowly, Gwen's own smile matched the Queen's. "Aye, Majesty. Be assured, I shall look in now and then on mine husband—and on thine, too."
So Alain and Geoffrey went a-wandering wild and free, two knights errant in search of adventure, on what must surely have been the best-supervised quest of all time. In fact, it was a virtual parade, with Puck shadowing his lord's grandson (not to mention his granddaughter's suitor), a dozen royal knights following a few hours behind the Heir Apparent, the two fathers trailing their sons with a score of knights, and the Lady Gwendylon keeping an eye on the two husbands.
But in front of them all, of course, went Cordelia.
CHAPTER 4
They rode in under the trees, Alain saying, "But where shall we..."
"Hist!" Geoffrey turned to him with a finger across his lips, then beckoned. He turned his horse off the trail —and pushed through the underbrush.
Alain stared, taken by surprise. Then he pushed on after Geoffrey, aching to ask what they were doing, but keeping his lips pressed tight.
The underbrush thinned out, leaving room for the horses to walk, though Alain had to duck under boughs. Fortunately, he could watch Geoffrey in front of him, and be ready for the next low-hanging limb. They had to skirt a few trees that had branches down to the ground and step carefully over fallen logs, but they kept on going.
Finally, Geoffrey's horse half-slid, half-walked down to a stream. He stepped in. Alain followed, dying to ask what they were doing—or rather, why; the "what" seemed obvious.
They walked upstream for a quarter of an hour or more; then Geoffrey turned his horse to climb back out onto the same bank from which they had come, though a good way farther into the forest. He reined in and waited for Alain to come up with him.
"Wherefore have we perambulated so?" Alain asked. "To lose pursuit," Geoffrey told him. "I doubt not that knight of your bodyguard may waken to find us gone, but will follow our trail into the wood. We do not wish him to be able to trace us far."
Alain turned thoughtful. "Aye, even so. Sir Devon would take it as his charge to find me, whether I wished it or no."
"And he will be most reluctant to return to your parents with word that he has lost us," Geoffrey agreed. "Nay, he will seek to follow—and when he cannot find our trail, he will take word to the King and Queen."
Alain's mouth tightened. "No doubt he will, and they will send a whole troop of knights to dog our footsteps."
"Therefore shall we leave them no footprints." Geoffrey grinned. "Mayhap we shall muddy our trail even further, then double back to watch—them casting about to find us. Would that not be pleasant?"
Alain's first instinct was to protest against taking pleasure in troubling good men who were only trying to do their duty—but Geoffrey's smile was infectious, and he found himself grinning. "It would be amusing to watch."
However, Geoffrey could read his mind—only figuratively, this time, though he could easily have done it literally. "Be easy in your heart—they will not be greatly upset. Still, if we are to be accompanied by a small army, there is scant purpose in wandering."
"True enough," Alain admitted. "Nay, let us lose ourselves thoroughly."
They did.
An hour later, Geoffrey reined in and pronounced them properly hidden. "Now, Alain, we must set to work disguising ourselves."
"Wherefore?" The Prince frowned.
"Why, because you wish to go knight-erranting, do you not? To seek out wicked folk to punish, and good folk to aid, and damsels in distress to rescue?"
"Indeed I do! I must prove myself worthy of your sister!"
"Well, what wicked knight would dare to win against you, if he recognized you as the Crown Prince Alain?" Alain's brow creased as he thought it over, then nodded. "Aye, there is sense in that. How shall we disguise us, then?"
"Well, to begin, you might take off your coronet and hide it in your saddlebag."
"Oh, aye!" Alain sheepishly tucked away his low crown. "Now, as to your garments," Geoffrey said. "They must be leather and broadcloth, not silk and velvet. You must be dressed for long journeying, not for court—a good woolen cloak against the chill of night, and stout high boots."
Alain glanced down at his low but very fashionable boots and nodded. "Where shall we find such?"
"In a village, if it be large enough. Let us fare forth to the nearest town."
They rode on through the forest, and as they did, Geoffrey tried to explain the nature of courtship. "You must begin by flirting," he counselled, "and do not yet be serious."
"But," said Alain, "if I compliment a lady and seek to kiss her..." He blushed. ". . . what shall I do if she says yes?"
"If the offer's made, you may treat it only as one more flirtation, and respond with some gallantry, such as `Ah, would that I could! But if such beauty as yours is like to blind me, I shudder to think what more would do!' Then touch her and draw back your hand sharply, as though from a hot griddle, crying `Ah, fair lady! Only a touch, and my blood boils to burn me!"'
Alain goggled. "Where did you learn that bit of extravagance?"
"Why, it came to me even now, as we spoke."
"Alack-a-day!" Alain sighed. "I have no such gift of silver to my tongue!"
"You will be amazed how quickly it comes, Alain, most thoroughly amazed—if you begin to play the game, and enjoy it."
Alain reddened. "I could not!"
"Of course you could, and shall. But remember—'tis only a game, but fully a game. Enjoy it, as you would enjoy tossing a ball—for the words are like the ball, and you've but to toss such compliments back and forth."
"Tell me a few more, I beg you!" Alain implored. "For I would not go unarmed into my first fray!"
Geoffrey shook his head. "You must not think of it as a fray, mind you, but a game. If a lass eyes you, so..." He made a moue and batted his eyelashes.
Alain burst out in laughter that mingled shock and surprise.
"Aye, that is the spirit!" Geoffrey grinned. "If she looks at you like that, then you must look at her like this!" His eyes widened a little, seeming to burn as his mouth curved slightly. "Then she will respond, thus... " He made sheep's eyes at Alain. "And you must sigh and reach out to touch her hand, ever so gently." He pantomimed a delicate touch.
Alain laughed heartily. Then, gasping, he said, "I never could! I never could do so in seriousness!"