As they went out of the clearing, Geoffrey said darkly, "This is unwise, brother. An we let him live, we allow a viper to flourish."
"Yet he himself hath done no evil," Cordelia pleaded. "At the least, brother, let him grow up!"
"Aye," Magnus agreed. "That much is the right of every child."
"Well, I will be ruled by thee in this," Geoffrey grumbled. "Yet I prophesy, brother, that he will bring disaster upon our heads when we're grown!"
Magnus walked on for a few paces, not answering. Then he said, "What sayest thou to that, Gregory?"
"Geoffrey is right in this matter," Gregory answered. "We must begin to prepare ourselves for that battle."
Chapter 15
The children made their way through the forest, unnaturally quiet, the thought of the false Geoffrey weighing on all their minds.
Suddenly, Fall popped up next to Cordelia's knee. "There's one who doth ask for thee."
They all stared at her.
Then Cordelia found her voice. "For me?"
"For all of thee. He is of a size with thee, little lady, and hath wandered into the wood unaccompanied."
"A boy?" Magnus and Geoffrey exchanged puzzled glances. "Who could be seeking us?"
"What name hath he?" Cordelia asked.
"His name is Alain, and he doth say he is a prince."
"Alain!" Cordelia clapped her hands, and the boys grinned. "Oh, bring him! Bring him!"
Fall smiled, relaxing. "Well, if thou dost know him. Elves unseen hath led him toward thee for a day now—he did first seek thee some leagues away, near Runnymede."
The children looked at one another, wide-eyed. "Why, that cannot be far from the Royal Palace!"
"'Tis even so," Fall agreed. "He did sit 'neath a pine, calling, 'Wee folk, come and aid!' And they saw 'twas but a child, so they came near, yet not too near, and showed themselves, asking, 'What aid dost thou seek?' And he bade the elves take him to thee. Yet they would not, without thy consent; for aught we knew, he might have been thine enemy."
"Nay, he is our friend! Or as close to one as we have." Witch-children didn't find many playmates. "Wilt thou bring him to us?"
"Assuredly, an thou dost ask it." Fall ducked away, and Summer followed her.
"'Tis most dangerous for a prince to be abroad alone," Magnus said, frowning. "Doth he not know his father's ene-mies could seize him and hold him hostage, to threaten the King?"
"Alain doth not think of such things," Geoffrey said, with some assurance; he'd spent enough time scrapping with the prince to know him pretty well.
"Yet assuredly, his bodyguards do! How have they permitted him to wander by himself?"
Geoffrey grinned. "I misdoubt me an they permitted him."
None of the children wondered why Alain was looking for them. After all, who else did he have to play with? His own brother was smaller than Gregory.
The boy came around a huge oak tree, following the two fairies who skipped before him. He wore a flat, round cap, leather breeches tucked into his boots, and a surcoat of stout green broadcloth; but the waistcoat beneath it was of gold brocade, and his shirt was of silk.
"Alain!" Cordelia squealed.
The prince looked up, saw her, and his face burst into a grin of delight. He ran toward them.The fairies dodged out of his way. He threw his arms around Cordelia, crying, "'Tis so good to see thee!" Then he whirled away to pump Magnus's hand. Geoffrey stepped up to throw him a companionable punch in the arm. Alain spun with a left hook that sent Geoffrey sprawling. He leaped up and waded in, fists clenched and grinning, but Magnus stepped between them. "Nay!"
" 'Tis but in good friendship," Geoffrey protested.
"Aye," Alain agreed. "How else do two warriors greet one another?"
"With raised visors and courtly bows! Blows arouse tempers, and spoil friendships!"
Geoffrey made a rude noise. Magnus glared at him.
Gregory tugged at Alain's arm. "Where is Diarmid?"
"At home, with our mother," Alain explained. "Father bade me also to bide with her, but I could not stand it."
"Even so," Geoffrey sympathized. "'Tis hard, when battles are brewing."
"Oh, aye, but an 'twere naught but that, I'd never have disobeyed him."
"He is, after all, thy liege as well as thy father," Magnus agreed. "What matter's of great enough moment to bring thee out 'gainst his command?"
"And why dost thou seek us?" Geoffrey crowded in. " 'Tis not as though 'twere playtime."
"'Tis not, in truth," Alain agreed, "but I know not to whom else I may turn. I am greatly afeard for my father." Suddenly, he looked very serious, even somber. Nothing had changed in the way he stood, but the children were somehow reminded that he was a prince.
"We can do but little," Magnus hedged. "We are not, after all, our parents."
"Yet what power we do own, is thine!" Geoffrey avowed. "What moves, Highness? Wherefore is thy sire in such straits?"
Alain looked from one to the other of them, and his eyes glowed with gratitude; but he said only, "The barons have risen in chaos, brawling and warring against one another like drunken serfs on a feast-day. Father hath marched out to pack them singly home."
Geoffrey scowled, and Magnus asked, "Do their dukes naught to bring them to heel?"
Alain shook his head. "And 'tis in my mind that they do let their vassals test the King for them, ere they do commit their own armies."
"And their sons," Geoffrey reminded. "Thy father doth still hold the heirs of the twelve great lords as hostages, doth he not?"
Alain wrinkled his nose. "Aye, and a noisome lot they are, forever swilling up ale and pestering the serving-wenches— and brawling amongst themselves."
The children nodded, without saying anything; they had understood for some time that Alain's friendly feelings toward them had a lot to do with the quality of the only alternatives available. "The dukes act prudently, then," Geoffrey said, "yet mayhap not wisely."
"Aye," Alain agreed. "This is their chance to gain Father's trust again, they who rebelled against him so long ago…"
(It was thirteen years.)
"… yet they will not. Nay, he'll never trust them more, when he hath won through." The prince's face darkened, and the children knew what he was thinking without reading his mind—if his father won.
"But there's no question that thy father will win!" Geoffrey cried. "They are only counts. A King with a royal army should have little trouble with them!"
"Aye," Alain agreed, "yet there's this upstart of a Shire-Reeve."
The children stared.
Then Magnus frowned. "Surely a Shire-Reeve cannot be greater trouble than a count!"
"This one may be," Alain said. "He hath gathered an army in but a few days' space."
Geoffrey glanced at Magnus. "This must have begun ere our parents were taken."
Alain stared. "I had heard thy parents were stolen, and it did grievously trouble Their Majesties—but how is't thou hadst already heard of the Shire-Reeve?"
"We did meet with a peasant wench who did taunt a plow-boy 'til he did march off to join the Shire-Reeve," Magnus explained.
"She did nearly bewitch Magnus and Geoffrey into a-joining with him, too," Gregory piped up.
Geoffrey flushed and turned to swat his little brat, but Cordelia blocked his swing. "Aye, they would most gleefully have marched away with her!"
"Praise Heaven they did not!" Alain went pale at the mere thought of the Shire-Reeve with the powers of Magnus and Geoffrey behind him.
"Nay, praise Puck—for he did break her spell," Cordelia informed him. "Be sure, she was a witch of a sort." She turned to her brothers. "Do not regard me so darkly—there's no shame in being enchanted!"
But Magnus said only, "There is," and turned back to Geoffrey. "I should not think a mob of plowboys would trouble thy father—they are raw, untrained in battle."
"They have already fought with three counts, and have won," Alain said grimly, "and many soldiers from those defeated bands were eager to join with the Shire-Reeve. Nay, he hath an army as large as Father's now, though not so well-trained or experienced