In the Name of the King (AU/CC/Mature) 7/19/12 COMPLETE

[Cardinal]

When Liz and Tess were talking the refered to Max as squire Max not Zan considering they don't know he is Max.

Oh wow! You're totally right. There were so many effups by me in that chapter that I think I need to quit posting when I'm tired.

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In this chapter, I paraphrase a short quote from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, ’In Memoriam: 27, 1850’

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Chapter 11

Watchers

Michael entered his bedroom not too long after Max got there, to find that he had already completed preparations for sleep, and was staring out the room’s one small glass window.

“So…how are you going to insult Lady Tess, Squire?”

Preoccupied with thoughts of another Parker daughter, Max half turned toward Michael, and said, “What?”

“Well…the way I’ve got it figured, you’ve already insulted Lord Parker’s eldest daughters, so why not go for the clean sweep and make everyone here hate you?”

Michael had Max’s full attention now. “Lady Maria deserved whatever insult she felt, and nothing will make me think any differently on that subject. She only tried to apologize because the castellan forced her to; had she meant it, I would have listened to her and accepted the apology.

“Lady Elizabeth…” Max sighed heavily, and Michael snickered.

“What the Hell was that? You sounded like a girl.” Just the way Max had said her name reinforced the idea that he had it bad for the admittedly beautiful Lady Elizabeth Parker.

Max shot Michael a look that hinted he was taking risks he didn’t need to be taking, and continued with what he’d been trying to say. “Lady Elizabeth was completely different. Is completely different.”

“How do you know that, Max? You’ve barely had time to do anything more than insult her.”

“But did you hear how she accepted my apology? With a graceful ease. She even had the class to admit it was partly her fault, even after I tried to take all the blame for myself.”

“Beauty, grace, a hard-worker…” Max shook his head, “…a man could do worse.”

Michael decided he’d better try to head this off before it got worse. He knew there was no way King Phillip would even consider letting the boy marry Lady Elizabeth. True, her father was a noble, but one of the most minor sort. And he’d only marry the prince to a homegrown noble in the first place if he couldn’t find a foreign power which would want to forge closer ties with Alemannia by sending a royal daughter to be Prince Maximilian’s bride.

Michael supposed once Max married he could choose to have a mistress, maybe even a handful of mistresses, as it had been a royal prerogative throughout Alemanni history. What he didn’t know was if this prince would be the type to want a mistress, or if this lady was the type to be inclined to be a mistress.

Michael realized however that worked out, it was far in the future and thus not his problem. He also realized that Lord Parker’s wish to keep his daughter away from Max really wasn’t his problem either. His one and only problem was to keep Max alive and out of Khivar’s hands, and if he could manage to teach the boy a few things along the way, so much the better.

Lord Parker, Michael thought, when it comes to keeping Max and Lady Elizabeth apart, you’re on your own. I’m not going to help them, but I’m not going to stop them. Still, I’d better give the boy a warning.

“A word of wisdom regarding Lady Elizabeth, Max.”

“Hmm?”

“Her father is dead set against any sort of match between you two, for reasons that make a lot of sense. He’s afraid of what the king might do should a romance blossom that interferes with any possible match he might make for you, especially now that your marriage could be vital to securing a needed alliance.

“So…before you go off and start singing under the lady’s balcony or start reciting bad poetry, keep in mind that your host is risking much to keep you hidden out here. You might not want to repay his loyalty by going after his daughter.”

“You’ve obviously never heard me sing,” Max said dryly, as he tried to joke away the realization that Michael was right. “And the only poetry I have had time for is the harsh tone of Sir Emmerich’s bark paced by the steady meter of sword on shield. I can speak four languages as if I was born to it, but all the words I’ve studied are trade laws, treaty stipulations, and diplomatic niceties.

“I can dance, in fact I do it very well, but ‘Squire Zan’ will never get to show that to Lady Elizabeth.

Max shrugged his shoulders and turned back the lone window. “As much as I sense there’s something special about that young woman, I should really leave her alone. Not so much because of her father’s loyalty, but because of the lady herself.

“When it comes right down to it, what do I really have to offer a woman? My position and wealth are a result of my birth, nothing more, and those will go to the woman my father chooses for me, not to any woman I might love.

“And once I marry, all else that I am will belong to my wife, too. For when I stand before the altar in the cathedral and swear to ‘love, honor, and cherish,’ I mean to give it my all: to learn to love the woman I’ve likely just met days before the ceremony, to honor her as my wife and the mother of my children deserves, and to cherish what she brings to our union, instead of dwelling on what she does not.”

“No mistresses?” Michael asked, though by now the answer was painfully clear.

“None. I’m nothing if not a man of my word. So all we could have together is this short time here, and then Father will sell me off and both Elizabeth and I will have to start all over again with someone new.”

Michael thought of something he’d heard once, a very long time ago, from a woman who lived on in his memory. She had been on her deathbed, and both of them had known it. A newly-minted knight, Sir Michael had been trying to be her strength during her last hours, but he’d ended up leaning on her instead. And as he lamented her imminent passing and the end of all they’d meant to each other, she’d looked up and stroked the side of his face, and murmured, ‘It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.’

“What was that, Sir Michael?” Max asked.

Michael realized he must have said that out loud, and blanched. That was a part of him that stayed locked away where no one could see it, where no woman could ever find it, and hurt him thus again. Slamming that door shut with finality, Michael glowered at Max, telling him it was time for sleep as they had a busy day ahead of them.

The next day was busy for everyone. The household servants spent all day unloading wagon after wagon of supplies, furniture, clothing, and other belongings and then lugging them into the house under the watchful eyes of Louise the head housekeeper, and all three Parker girls.

Max’s day started with more hand-to-hand training with Michael, and once he was done with breakfast, he found Louise as ordered. Being mindful of Lord Parker’s hurried instructions regarding Squire Zan and Lady Elizabeth, she assigned him to work with the servants who were thoroughly cleaning almost six weeks of road grime from Lord Parker’s best carriage, as he hoped it would be needed the next day.

Lord Parker had sent a liveried messenger to the grand ducal palace in Varshova to announce his arrival in the grand duchy and to ask for a brief audience to pay a courtesy call. He wondered briefly if he should also send a note to the Alemanni ambassador, who if Lord Parker remembered correctly, was Lord Eduard Pierzynski, Count of Ellsinore. Figuring it would do no harm, and might help at some point, Lord Parker decided he and his family would pay a courtesy call at the ambassador’s home on the way back from the palace…should they receive an invitation to the palace in the first place.

By the time Max was ready for his evening weapons practice, his filth made Lady Elizabeth’s soot-coated appearance from the day before look like the height of cleanliness. Michael couldn’t stop laughing when he saw how thoroughly dirty Max was.

“No need to ask how your first day of service went,” Michael chortled.

“What about your day, Sir Michael?” Max asked, as he slipped on few pieces of armor for weapons training.

“There are too many soldiers for me to train all at once, so I’ll have to break them up into smaller groups and train them an hour or two at a time. It looks like it will be, at least at first, an all-day process.”

As the two men grabbed blunted practice swords and began to work together, clanging their swords together as they moved back and forth in “the dance of swords,” they had an audience for a brief amount of time.

Lady Maria watched intently, admiring their sword work, and hoping Sir Michael might slip a few painful shots past Squire Zan’s guard. She wished she could be out there learning with them, but after yesterday’s ‘discussion’ with her father, she suspected her days wielding swords were over. She knew his threat to find a dancing master to help her freshen up her knowledge of the currently fashionable dances was not an idle one.

Elizabeth was also watching, but from a different floor. She had managed to catch brief glimpses of the squire during the day, and had been impressed to find him working as hard as any of the servants on cleaning the carriage. She’d overheard a couple of her father’s soldiers talking about his morning workout with Sir Michael, and was curious to see how he’d fare in his late afternoon workout after a full day of scrubbing.

She knew little about swordplay, nor did she want to, but she watched them nonetheless, wincing each time either man was struck, but doing so a little harder when the injured party was her Zan. Not my Zan, damn it! He’s just a squire, Elizabeth. Get that into your thick skull now.

By the time she had to stop watching the men and go on to get ready for the evening meal, she’d been sure both men would be bruised once they were done, and she’d been duly impressed by Squire Zan’s stamina. It seems like that bull of a man can go all day.

Even the Lady Tess had managed to sneak a look at the cute squire. She was disappointed to find they were working out too far away from the manor for her to see individual body parts, like the cute butt and the sharply chiseled arms she’d seen earlier in the day as he’d worked on the carriage.

Still, she could recall what she’d seen and imagined those strong arms wrapped around her, just like the main couple in one of her father’s books. She was smart enough to know she couldn’t tell anyone about her interest though, or else the squire would spend his days cleaning out the soldiers’ stables far out back, where she’d never see him again.

All she wanted was a chance with Zan. She already knew that as the third daughter of a minor lord, her chances of making a good marriage were slim, at best, so she was determined to find a decent marriage with someone she could actually love. She fancied that Squire Zan was her first good candidate.

[Cardinal]

Chapter 12

Change of Plans

Khivar’s original plan had been elegant in its simplicity. Not one-hundred percent sure whether the King’s Legion was completely loyal to him or to the king, he had planned to use them only to block off all access to the Summer Palace, and then use his own Walachian troops, and the troops of his closest allies, to move in on the palace itself.

Once they’d overcome the expected stiff resistance from the king’s household guards and had the royal family safely in hand, the king and prince would have been quietly and privately executed, as Khivar couldn’t afford a rival claimant to the throne coming back to haunt him years later. The queen’s good behavior was to be purchased with a not-too-subtle threat against the princess’ life. He then planned on declaring himself Lord Protector of Alemannia, and after a suitable period of time, marrying the Princess Isabel and declaring himself king.

But when he called his battle staff into session, their opinions upon hearing of the disappearances of the prince and princess were unanimous: the king and queen knew what was coming and would be on the move themselves before any of Khivar’s forces could reach the Summer Palace.

The idea of a quick and almost bloodless palace coup was gone. What was going to replace it was some sort of civil war. Most important now for Khivar was mobilizing his forces and getting them into the field as a cohesive unit to overawe the nobles who hadn’t made up their minds to fight for the king, and to overwhelm the ones who had, piece by piece, before they could link up and form an effective resistance.

His army was going to move fast in an attempt at cutting off the king and queen from their strongest support base, which was in the kingdom’s far south, but Khivar expected the royals to get there as they’d had a head start. There was a second, and more important, reason for attempting to cut off the royals. Finding out where they were headed would make it easier for his main army to get there first and to break up any royal army before it could form. The best way to win this war, in his estimation, was to keep it from ever really getting underway.

Once the king knew Khivar meant to challenge for the throne, he’d acted to place his children in safe, widely separated locations, in case something went wrong. No one in the kingdom besides he and his wife knew where to find both of the children, which added to their protection. When he knew Maximilian and Isabel were as safe as they could be, he felt free to act.

The biggest problem Phillip faced was giving the loyal nobles, primarily located in the south and west of the kingdom, the time and the space necessary to gather their small armies into one large one that might be able to deal with Khivar on something like equal terms. Figuring his opponent would expect any army buildup to center on the king himself, Phillip planned to lead him out of the way and hole up in a well-supplied, strongly defended castle in the far south of the kingdom.

While Khivar surrounded the castle and considered his options for siege or even assault, the loyal Dukes, Counts, and Barons would be gathering their troops in the far west, which should give them enough time to organize and supply themselves. Holing up in a fixed location was a risk, but it was a calculated one. Phillip thought it was the one most likely to give his supporters the time they’d need.

As Phillip and Diana raced southward in a carriage, with a heavy guard of knights and other armored horsemen, they reflected that they were about to be safe, and that their children were safe, too. Maximilian was hidden in the Baron of Roswell’s household across the border into Krakovia, and Isabel had taken ship and headed to Anglia, where she and her ladies-in-waiting were to have honored places in young King Alexander’s court.

The problem they couldn’t do anything about was that, while their family was safe, everyone else was potentially at risk as the kingdom went to war with itself. That ate at Phillip and Diana, but the potential long-term damage from having a brutish man like Khivar as king overpowered all other considerations.

Max’s world was considerably smaller at the moment. Ever since Maria had learned Sir Michael was making him available for various menial jobs around the manor, she had taken great joy in giving him as many dirty, nasty jobs as she could find. When the guard captain decided the soldiers’ barracks needed a new latrine trench dug, Maria made sure Max was part of the crew that got the job. She was a general thorn in his side for an entire week after they’d arrived at the manor.

And then, true to his word, Lord Parker located a new set of tutors for his girls. These tutors weren’t worried about history or mathematics, instead, they were here to help the girls sharpen their ‘female’ skills, which included sewing, dancing, and music, among other things.

It was quickly established that the two eldest girls had lost whatever musical skills they may once have had, but Tess blossomed, as she loved both singing and playing the harpsichord. The older girls were thus able to skip out on music lessons, but their father was insistent on them working on their sewing and dancing.

Maria muttered curses about how this was all Max’s fault, and Elizabeth, who was as unhappy about the sewing part as her older sister was, found herself defending Max and blaming Maria. The two eldest Parker girls quickly regained a basic competence wielding needles, but Maria had more difficulty due to the callouses on her hands from sword practice and due to her general unwillingness to learn.

All three girls, however, were interested in brushing up on their dancing skills. Their father was still waiting word on when or if he would have an audience with the grand duke, and they knew they’d be brought along to be introduced at court if he did. It was their best chance of making local connections and being invited to join the social scene in the capital, and they wanted to be ready.

The girls had spent most of their young lives stuck in the cultural backwater of Roswell. Parties had been few and far between, and had always been small. The chance to attend the various parties of the late fall and winter social season, when many noble families would come back to the capital until spring, was the best chance any of them had ever had.

The problem with dancing instruction, was that they didn’t have anyone to practice dancing with. There were no young men of quality in the household who might be reliably expected to know the proper dances. Only when Michael overheard Tess complaining to Elizabeth about their lack of a proper dancing partner did a solution present itself.

“Ladies?” Michael said.

“Yes, Sir Michael?” Elizabeth replied. She still didn’t like the idea of a man with such a brutal reputation being assigned to her family, and she wasn’t quite able to keep the distaste out of her voice.

“I’m sorry to have overheard what Lady Tess was just saying, but I have a possible solution.”

“You, Sir Michael?” Tess asked doubtfully, as she eyed the man who had to be twice her own age.

“No, milady,” Michael said. “Not only do I not have the knowledge of dancing that is needed, but working with your father’s soldiers is pretty much a full-time occupation.” He shifted his gaze toward Elizabeth to see her reaction to what he said next. “But Squire Zan is supposed to be an excellent dancer, even though he claims to hate it.”

Just as Lord Parker had led him to believe would happen, the young woman’s eyes brightened and she took in a deep breath. The thing he noticed was that the younger sister reacted in much the same way. Oh great! Michael thought. Max will have two daughters of the house fighting over him, while the third tries to break his neck.

He knew he’d have to float the idea by Lord Parker first, but thought that having the contact between Max and his daughters happen under the watchful eye of the dancing master would be enough to get him to agree, especially since he’d been the one to order the practicing.

“Before you ladies get too excited, please allow me to present the idea to your lord father, as I know he’s been concerned with, umm, how you ladies spend your time.”

Both girls thanked Michael, but before he slipped away, Elizabeth stopped him, waited until Tess disappeared down the hall, and asked, “How is Squire Zan doing, Sir Michael? I haven’t gotten more than a glance or two of him since the welcoming banquet.”

“He’s doing fine. Lady Maria has been assigning him the nastiest jobs she can, but if your father approves of this dancing plan, that will change. Then, the worst part of his duties will be trying to keep three lovely young women from stepping on his toes.”

Elizabeth smiled, both at Michael’s refreshing forthrightness, and at the image of her and her sisters trampling Zan’s feet as they refreshed their abilities. “One more thing before you go, Sir Michael.”

“Yes, Milady?”

“Who is Squire Zan?” Elizabeth bit her lip. “What is his family name?”

Michael’s face, which only seconds before had been enwreathed with a smile, dropped as Elizabeth asked a question he dared not answer. He thought about lying, but realized he’d likely get caught in the lie sooner or later, so he stuck with the truth. “I’m not allowed to say what his family name is, or even if he has a family, Milady.”

“But why?”

“Sorry, Lady Elizabeth, I’m not allowed to say why I’m not allowed to say…now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to your lord father and see if he’ll allow my squire the company of his daughters.”

Troubled, Elizabeth waved the knight away and headed for her spacious room. She understood there could be legitimate reasons for not revealing Zan’s parentage, but she wondered what reason there could be for hiding the reason itself. The only conclusion she could make in the short time before she entered the family quarters, was that he was likely the son of someone powerful. Whether a legitimate son who’d need secrecy to protect from a kidnapping or assassination, or a bastard son, who might be embarrassed for anyone to know.

Either way, she thought, he might be within reach of the second daughter of Baron. I could have a chance.

Elizabeth floated the rest of the way up to her quarters, as she hoped Michael was successful in convincing her father to allow the squire to help. She was just going to have to pretend indifference if her father asked about him, so he didn’t get overly protective. And as for Maria continually assigning him dirty jobs, well…she’d have to see about that little scheme.

Michael found Lord Parker in his library, which now really looked like a library, as all the books they’d brought from Roswell had been unloaded and placed onto the bookcases they’d brought. Close to the door were a pair of plain wooden reading tables with four sturdy chairs each table had two glass and brass candle lamps, none of which were in use at the time.

At the far end of the room, just in front of the lone window, sat a large, heavily carved desk with two candle lamps of its own. Sitting behind the desk was Lord Parker, who was reading through a few sheets of paper. When he looked up and saw his new arms master approach, he held up the sheaf of paper as if wielding a club. “This damn move cost me a small fortune. Between extra food for the people and fodder for the animals, and all the wagons I had to hire, I’m out slightly more than 1,000 gold crowns.”

“A princely sum, Milord.”

“Then there’s this place. Rent will not be cheap.”

“I’m sure the king’s favor is worth something, Milord.” Michael replied amiably.

“It is…it always is…but that’s not why I’m here.” Michael waited for Lord Parker to continue. “I’m here because my king has called on me, because he needs me.” Setting the papers back down, he focused on his arms master. “What can I do for you, Sir Michael?”

Michael went on to explain the conflict between his lord’s desire to keep Elizabeth and Max apart, and his very real need to have a male dance partner for the girls to practice with. “I know you are still waiting for an audience with the grand duke, but I can’t help but think that at least one of your daughters will receive an acceptable invitation once you’ve had the chance to officially introduce them to Krakovian society.”

“Invitation to what?” Lord Parker asked.

“The Harvest Ball. At least, that’s what my squire calls it, and as he has a close relationship with a local noble, he ought to know. Furthermore, Squire Zan says it’s both the highlight of the fall and winter party season in Varshova, and the event that acts as the semi-official start to it all.”

Lord Parker held his forehead in his hands before running them down to his mouth and off his chin. “So you mean to say my girls can’t afford to miss this dance?”

“Not if you have any hopes of getting one or more married while you are here.”

Lord Parker pondered the idea, feeling screwed whichever way he went. “Okay. Send your boy to the dancing master tomorrow after breakfast…and have him put on that one nice set of clothes the tailor made for him. I’ll tell the tailor to make you another several sets of dress uniforms and the like for him,” Lord Parker took that moment to point a finger at Michael and shake it while saying, “Just make sure that boy knows my girls are off limits to him.”

“It will be done,” Michael said, before backing out of the room and turning toward his bed, and a long night’s sleep.

[Cardinal]

Since I'm working late tonight, I decided to go ahead and post the next update now. Enjoy!

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Chapter 13

Let’s Dance

Michael waited until just before he and his charge began their morning hand-to-hand combat practice before telling him of his new assignment. Max stopped in mid-step, looked right at Michael, as if trying to bore a hole right through him, and said, “I’ve got to do what, Sir Michael, with whom?”

“Dance practice. Lord Parker’s daughters need some serious remedial dancing lessons. Apparently he spent too much time turning them into clerks who could help him run his affairs, and not enough time on making them into proper ladies. And now there’s this Harvest Ball coming up in the not so distant future, and the ladies don’t want to look like fools.”

“Balls can be a lot of fun, as long as there aren’t a lot of hidden agendas involved,” Max mused. “The balls I attended, though, always included lots of hidden agendas.”

“I…wouldn’t know much about that…I, uh, I’ve never been to a royal ball of any sort.” Embarrassed, Michael admitted, “It’s hard for a common-born knight to wangle that sort of invitation.”

Max looked directly at Michael. “I hope they aren’t counting on actually going to the Harvest Ball. It’s going to be just as difficult for Lord Parker’s daughters to get an invitation to this ball as it is for a ‘common-born knight’ to get an invitation to a ball back home…if what Kyle says is correct.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the premier event on the Krakovian social calendar. Everyone who is anyone from the local nobility will be there. Visiting minor nobility like the Baron of Roswell and his family won’t likely be able to get their feet in the door…unless one of them is invited by someone who has an invitation, but needs an escort.” Max took his starting position for practice. “I’ll dance with the ladies if you require it, but please let them know this Harvest Ball is not where they will make their local social debuts.”

“Shit…”

“Not here, Sir Michael,” Max grinned, “the latrine trench is out back. Trust me on that one. I dug almost half of it myself.”

“Heh, Smartass. Let’s get this practice over with so you can clean up, eat, and dance with the ladies…oh, two more things: first, wear the good clothes Lord Parker’s tailor made for you, and second, I’m supposed to make sure you know all of his daughters are strictly off limits to you.

“It would show a complete disregard for a man who is risking a lot to shield you if you were to trifle with any of his daughters, especially when you know you will have to marry elsewhere.”

Surprised by Michael’s line of discussion, Max replied icily, “The next time I trifle with a woman’s affections will be the first time, Sir Michael. I know, better than anyone, just how limited my choices are when it comes to women. I’ll thank you kindly to keep your instruction to how I fight.”

“Fair enough, Squire. But as your behavior reflects upon me, I’m ordering you to pay no notice to the ladies. That should be easy with Lady Maria; you two are like oil and water. Lady Tess is, I think, a bit young for your taste, despite her beauty. But we both know you have a fondness for Lady Elizabeth. Dance with her…but nothing more.”

Max was seething by now, and his anger made their workout more interesting than usual. His sudden desire to pound on Michael left him wide open for a number of hard shots, especially to the ribs, but his sheer determination allowed him to land several heavy blows of his own.

It didn’t occur to Michael until their workout was over that Max had decided on something: he would be happy to take all the beatings Michael could dish out for an hour, as long as he got in a fair number of shots in return. This was because Max knew he could heal himself once the workout was over, but his knight would suffer from those bruises for days.

Well, there’s the temper flare-up I’ve been waiting for; too bad I’m going to have to pay for it.

“I’m glad of one thing, Squire,” Michael said, as Max prepared to rush off to a hurried breakfast.

“What’s that, Sir Michael?”

“That you took your anger out on me instead of someone else. That use of your healing power was unworthy of you.”

Max grimaced. “You figured that out, huh? Most people wouldn’t have.”

“I’ll admit it took me awhile. I couldn’t understand why you were fighting in such a crazy way, until I realized how sore I was and how I was going to feel it for a couple of days. Then I remembered your healing ability and realized you wouldn’t feel it long enough to reach breakfast.

“I had thought you were becoming a man. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is who you really are, and the rest has just been pretending.”

Max had already healed himself, just as Michael had said. No pain, no stiffness, no bruises. He looked around to make sure the waryard was empty, and as Michael straightened up, he waited until the knight removed his armor. Max then lifted up his shirt so he could place a hand right on his abdomen.

“Look into my eyes, Sir Michael.”

Once they made a connection, Max loosed a fragment of his power, letting it seep into Michael to take away his minor injuries. For his part, Michael felt a surge of energy pass through his body. It scared him enough that it took him several seconds to realize he no longer felt any pain. Experimentally trying out a shoulder Max had nearly dislocated with an armbar, his eyes grew wide; it felt loose and easy, as if nothing had happened.

“What the Hell did you do?”

“I healed you. Since it was just bruises and sore muscles, the silver handprint that’s now on your stomach will fade by lunchtime. If you’d actually broken anything or suffered a wound from a blade, the handprint would last for a few days.”

“What if someone had seen you do it?”

“Like who? I looked all around the waryard, and no one was anywhere near us. Besides…weren’t you the one griping like a girl about how much you were hurting?”

“Noooooo. I was the one griping about your childish reaction to being told there was a sweet for dinner, but you couldn’t have any.”

“You know something, Sir Michael?” Max had poured as much sarcasm into the ‘Sir’ as he possibly could. Michael definitely noticed. “For a guy who’s seen and done as much as you have, you don’t seem to know very much…not about me anyway.

“There’s a powerful tradeoff when it comes to being the Crown Prince,” Max continued. “I’ve been given so much. Wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. Power…not much now it’s true, but soon I’ll assume my position as Duke of Borussia to get some experience ruling.

“But in return for that wealth and power, I’m required to give up almost everything else. I don’t choose my wife…my parents do. I didn’t choose my profession…that was decided the moment they knew I was a boy. All this and more. Basic decisions for most people which have been taken from me by royal protocol.

“It’s the paradox of royal life. All that power…and yet, so few real choices to actually make.” Max shook his head and cleared his throat, as he was somewhat embarrassed to have felt sorry for himself over such a small thing. “And now you want to deny me the pleasure of smiling at a lady, enjoying her company, and hoping she’ll smile back.

“I know I can’t marry any of Lord Parker’s daughters, damn it! Just don’t try to order me to turn a blind eye to their charms while I’m here.” Max straightened up to leave. “You’d have just as much success ordering water to flow uphill.”

Far above the out of the way part of the waryard where Max and Michael always went to practice, in a third-floor room that hadn’t been assigned for use yet, stood Tess. She’d been too far away to hear anything that had been said between the two men as they fought, but she knew enough of Max’s usual behavior to recognize he was particularly angry. That kept her interested long enough for her to see the end of the workout and a part of the sliver handprint he had left on Michael’s abdomen.

Tess’ eyes opened wide upon seeing that. She’d never seen anything like that before but knew immediately it signified Antarian abilities on the part of the squire. And who does he have to be to be able to do that? Tess wondered. The question was purely rhetorical, as she knew the answer already. Squire Zan has to be a son of a major house. I wonder if he’s a second son embarking on a military career…or even a first son and heir who’s been sent out for some seasoning…either way, he’s almost like a prince in disguise, just like in one of father’s books. This is so exciting!

The reason Tess had been watching the men workout was that she wanted to know roughly when Zan would go in for breakfast so she could just happen to show up at the same time. Once he left the waryard, she glided down two staircases and hid inside a morning drawing room to wait for him to clean up and come to eat. It took several minutes for him to clean up and change, but soon enough, she heard his heavy footfalls and walked out of the drawing room just as he strode by. Seeing her, Max stepped back and bowed carefully to her even as he opened the door to the dining hall and held it for her.

Excited to be in the know on his secret, Tess was even warmer to him than usual, as she smiled and said, “Thank you, Squire.”

“You’re most welcome, Milady.” Max rose from his bow and followed her in. He ate in a hurry and rushed off, barely noticing the warm smiles he’d been receiving from Tess as he ate.

Max’s quick meal had afforded him a few minutes alone in Michael’s bedroom to relax in private. He looked over the one nice outfit he owned to make sure he’d gotten everything on correctly in his hurry to dress. The tailor had wanted his outfit to mimic Michael’s dress outfit, only not look quite as fancy as he was only a squire, so he wore a plain white shirt with no ruffles or lace of any kind. His jacket was a blood red, single-breasted number with some simple gold trim and plain brass buttons. It was belted at the waist with a plain gold-colored belt, with only a few more inches of jacket sticking out below the belt. His slacks were plain but well-made, and black in color. Looking at his boots, which were awful due to the constant abuse he was putting them through, he squatted down and manipulated them on the molecular level, which made the leather soft and supple, while giving it a brilliant shine.

Max didn’t have the luxury of an actual mirror in Michael’s room, so he just ran his hands through his hair, which was now almost an inch in length, and hoped that would be enough. Not having been given an exact time to appear, he knew he was better off making a beeline to the site of the dancing lessons and being early than wandering around and risk being late. This feeling only intensified when he realized he had no idea in which room, or even on which floor, he was supposed to report.

One housemaid and a lopsided grin later, and he was on his way. The smitten girl even led him right to the door, before he winked at her, straightened his jacket, and knocked firmly.

“Ve are closed! Ve are haffing danzing lessons!” came a loud voice with a thick accent. Max could hear some whispering, but couldn’t make out what was being said. “Och, ya! Ze danzer! Come in, please! Zese ladies are hopeless.”

Max cautiously pushed open the unlatched door and walked inside, whereupon he assumed an ‘at-ease’ posture and began to survey the ladies.

Maria was actually in a dress for once, which was something Max thought she should do more often given the way she cleaned up. The dress was a shade of pale blue which went well with her straw-colored blonde hair. It looked like she’d been smiling widely just a minute ago, likely right up until he’d knocked.

Elizabeth was in a white dress which was a bit fancier than what she usually wore from day to day, but was relatively basic for a woman of her class. It was stunning on her nonetheless.

Tess’ dress was the most dramatic, being a deep, rich purple, but that was expected as he knew she was the most fashion-conscious of the three Parkers on a day-to-day basis.

Max eyed the three gorgeous young women and thought their father should get some kind of medal from the king for producing so much beauty. He was sure their mother had been some kind of legendary beauty. As he thought this, his eyes moved back and forth; he tried to keep from staring at any of the women, but he found his eyes lingering again and again on the simple white dress and lustrous brown hair of Lady Elizabeth. She noticed and smiled slightly every time he did it, which made him realize what he was doing and start his eyes moving again…until his eyes settled upon her again and started the cycle all over.

“Vell, Boy? Vat danzes do you know?” the impatient dancing master asked pointedly.

Max pulled his eyes from the beauties before him and looked at the little man to reply. “If it’s a dance you plan on teaching these ladies, I can dance it. Nothing salacious though. Or else I’ll be honor-bound to refer the matter to Lord Parker’s attention.”

Maria already looked like she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Max, but hearing him declare himself the protector of her morals and reputation just about had smoke rolling out of her ears. Elizabeth thought his stance was only prudent, given that any ‘salacious’ dance they learned would inevitably involve him dancing that way with them…something sure to earn her father’s ire. Tess just sighed, as she thought Max’s stand was just what she expected from her ‘noble in hiding.’

The dancing master just clucked at Max’s statement, and said, “But of course, my boy. Ze Baron has made it very clear what his expectations are. Ze ladies vill not be learning anything of a ‘questionable’ nature.” Turning his eyes on Max in a direct challenge, he added, “As for your assertion that you are a competent danzer, that remains to be seen. And my standards on competence are very stringent indeed.”

[Cardinal]

Chapter 14

Slip of the Lip

Max stood and waited for the dancing master to start things off, as he himself couldn’t very well dance with all three Parker women at once.

“Ze other tutors indicated to me zat they vould like Lady Maria to dance first, as she has ze most work to do in her other subjects.” That earned the dancing master a death glare from Maria, but he shrugged it off easily, which only served to irritate her more.

As Max approached Maria, the other two young women withdrew to chairs on the other side of the room to watch intently. He bowed to her, and she returned his bow with a slightly uncomfortable curtsey.

“May I have this dance, Lady Maria?” Max asked, as he held out his hand to her.

“I would be delighted,” she replied, in a tone of voice that left no doubt of just how delighted she was to be dancing with the squire.

The dancing master chose a relatively simple two-person dance to start out with, since he had no idea how good either dancer was. Maria was a little stiff, but he attributed that to her relearning the steps. Max, however, was proving to be every bit as good as he claimed. Deciding this was going to take awhile, the master dismissed Elizabeth and Tess to their other studies, with Elizabeth due back two hours before lunch, and Tess to be back after lunch.

Deciding this was his best chance at repairing their fractured relationship, Max stayed silent and kept from any sort of correction of Maria’s steps. She stepped on his toes a couple of times and kicked one of his shins once, but none of it was on purpose. Max just gritted his teeth and smiled, as if he loved nothing more than having his legs and feet abused.

Worrying about his legs made him a little slow in recognizing what was going on with Maria, but he finally decided she wasn’t having any trouble picking up the steps, like the dancing master thought. Instead, she kept trying to lead. I’m just glad she’s wearing velvet slippers instead of leather riding boots, Max thought.

Maria’s difficulties were a source of mounting frustration for her, as she was used to being smooth and confident on her feet, and the more she got frustrated, the worse she danced, until she finally started taking out her frustrations on others. Since Max was being quiet about her mistakes and was not making of his own, she lashed out at the dancing master.

That man was patient, but had his limits, and when Maria finally crossed them, he fired off bursts of his native language in return, which Max immediately recognized as Frankic, one of the three languages he spoke in addition to his native tongue. The man’s outbursts were infrequent, harmless, and generally hilarious, making Max fight to keep from laughing out loud…right up until Maria got particularly frustrated with the footwork of an intricate dance sequence and let loose with both a fist against Max’s chest and a stream of invective at the dance master.

Max took the blow as it was intended, a way to let off steam, but the dancing master felt insulted again, and said something different this time. Something dark and foul. Maria couldn’t tell what he’d said, and he’d assumed Max couldn’t either, until the squire’s head whipped around in surprise and anger.

When the dancing master blanched, Max fired off a reply in word-perfect Frankic that had the dancing master on his knees begging Maria for forgiveness…in heavily accented Alemanni.

“Why is he apologizing to me, Squire?” Maria asked.

“The man voiced an ugly slur, Milady,” Max replied. “If you were my family, I would have challenged him on the spot. Instead, I told him he’d better get started apologizing now, before I told you and you decided to call on someone to defend your honor.”

Maria looked at Max directly, sure the insult must have been particularly foul to have earned his anger when the insult was directed at her. “What, exactly, did he say?”

Max started to reply, and then, having trouble even forcing the words out of his mouth in a lady’s presence, told the dancing master to answer the question.

“I zaid you dance like a…a…” he looked up at Max, who signaled for him to get on with it, “…a drunken whore.”

Maria…was…livid.

She wanted to challenge the man herself, but her father had expressly forbidden her to use weapons of any sort. Without so much as looking at Max, she said, “If I ask it of you, Squire, would you be my defender?”

“If you ask it and Sir Michael allows it, I’ll defend your honor to whatever extreme you deem necessary, Milady.”

Maria looked directly at Max and favored him with a small smile. “Thank you, Squire. I’ll tell Father before dinner. Don’t let the little man escape before then.” She then gave the dancing master an icy glare. “I’m done dancing for the day.”

She stormed off, and the frightened dancing master pled with Max, in Frankic, for mercy. Max told him he only deserved as much mercy as Lady Maria chose to allow and that she didn’t seem to be a particularly merciful person. He intended to scare the crap out of the dancing master but wasn’t sure if Michael would actually allow him to harm this man.

They had fifteen minutes to kill after Maria left before Elizabeth showed up, eager to dance. One look at her making her way into the room, and Max forgot all about the dancing master and his mouth. The two young people stood an arm’s length away, each enraptured by the other’s appearance, until the master finally rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

“If we might begin…zometime today maybe?”

Max bowed low to Elizabeth, and her curtsey was just as deep, just as formal. He found his mouth was dry and his hand was nearly shaking as he extended it to her and asked, “May I have this dance, Lady Elizabeth?”

“It would be my pleasure, Squire Zan,” she replied. Anyone who saw or heard her reply would have had no doubt just how much she meant that. There was no storybook automatic meshing of two hearts and four feet. She was a marginally better dancer than Maria, but she, too, was still relearning the steps, and adjusting to a partner who was much taller than she was.

Max, who’d been smooth as good glass while dancing with Maria, turned into a stumble-footed neophyte, which had the master stumped until Max stopped and looked Elizabeth deep in the eyes. He then murmured, “You’re making me nervous.”

Elizabeth’s heart soared on the strength of that shy pronouncement; she knew as well as anyone that nerves only entered into the equation when a good performance was important.

“Please, Squire, I’d like it if you’d call me Elizabeth.”

“E-liz-a-beth…” Max said her name as if he was savoring each syllable and was afraid he’d never get to say it again. “I like that. Please feel free to call me Zan, Milady…umm, Elizabeth.”

Her brown eyes flashed at Max’s lapse into formality, but she smiled radiantly when he said her name again. That smile struck him deeply, lancing him all the way into his heart. He thought he might have done anything she wanted at that moment…anything…just to see that smile one more time.

When the dancing resumed, Max was smoother, and so was Elizabeth as she was sure, for the first time, that the squire was definitely interested in her. She made decent progress during her two hour lesson, and found herself reluctant to leave when it was time for lunch. When she asked Max to escort her down to the dining hall, he smiled, thrilled she’d asked, but he regretfully told her he had to stay with the master until dinnertime.

“Why?”

“I…think I’d better not say.” Max eyed the master. “If you want to know, ask Lady Maria.”

Max and the master each got a hunk of fresh bread and a plate of stew and found a far off table to eat, just in case the story of his stupidity traveled as fast as the story of Maria’s spanking had the week before.

“What’s it like sitting and eating with the man who might be your executioner in a few hours?” Max asked.

“You zink it will come to zat?”

“Not likely, but it is possible. Hopefully, Lady Maria will cool off between now and the time when she tells her father. If she tells him a highly incendiary account of your stupidity, he may don his armor and make you pay himself.

“I have some small experience with a lord’s punishment, and what I see as being likely is Lord Parker assigning me to beat you in one way or another. Max pulled back the sleeve on one arm and flexed his huge forearm, just to give the dancing master something extra to think about. To him, the guy seemed to be okay, but he had screwed up big time and had to pay. Once he’d paid, though, everything would be fine between them.

That small show of strength upset the dancing master’s stomach, but paradoxically gave him a larger appetite, and he began to eat like a condemned man on his last meal.

After lunch was Max’s time with Tess. As with the other ladies, there was a formal greeting and then they were off. He had to admit it was easiest for him to dance with Tess, because Elizabeth did things to his nerves, and Maria had been both irritable and awkward.

When Tess’ lesson was over, Max asked her if it would be okay if he used the library, as he’d been ordered to stay with the master until dinner. She easily granted permission, and wondered why he was required to stay with the dancing master. She asked around to see if any of her maids had heard anything, and was surprised to come up empty. Talking to Elizabeth got her nowhere, but talking to Maria just earned her a look of grim satisfaction and an admonishment to not be late to dinner.

Telling Tess was like telling the entire manor, so everyone who had a spot at the table was there early, with Michael being one of the last to get there after his drills with the troops. He was one of the few who had no idea of what was going on. Max stopped him on the way in and pulled him to one side to fill him in.

“Really? This little man said that?” Michael eyed him. “Brave, I’ll give him that, but very stupid.”

“Not brave,” Max corrected. “Cowardly. He spoke his slur in a language he expected neither one of us would know. But I knew.”

Michael really was more disgusted with how he’d done it than what he’d said, as he figured Maria had earned herself some sort of harsh comment after the abuse she’d given to the dancing master. He thought if the man had replaced the word ‘whore’ with something that wasn’t nasty, he would have been just fine.

As is, he had to see if his squire would have to kill someone, because he’d already privately decided to allow it if Lord Parker asked Max to follow through on his offer to Lady Maria.

Max had been informed, while he was reading in the library, that Lord Parker would make his ruling before dinner. His only advice to the dancing master was for him to be on his knees as soon as they stopped moving. The idea was that contrition may be his best shot at reducing his punishment.

It was advice that was well heeded. The master almost dove to his knees as soon as Max brought him to a stop in front of the head table. A firm hand on the back of the man’s shirt collar was all that was keeping him from kissing the floor.

“So,” Lord Parker said, “this is the worm that dared dishonor one of my daughters by comparing her to a drunken whore.” Hearing that drew a stunned gasp from the diners, as only a bare few knew what had happened. The soldiers down at the end of the tables were already giving the dancing master looks that would cause him to soil himself if he were to look their way. They didn’t like it when someone attacked one of their ladies like that.

Elizabeth and Tess were both looking at Maria in shock, while she was looking at the man on the ground with barely restrained anger. Her look told them all they needed to know, and both were curious about why Squire Zan was involved with this.

“As you can hear, little man, my soldiers are restless. They’re calling for your blood, and I’m of a mind to let them have it. What have you to say for yourself?”

“That I am guilty, Milord. I spoke in Frankic in the hopes no one would know but me, a hidden slur to repay the lady for her disagreeable manner. But the squire heard me, and knew.”

“My daughter Maria has asked for you to be her defender in this, Squire, to be the one who punishes the dancing master for his crime. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Milord.” Max bowed to Lord Parker.

“Sir Michael, do you give permission for your squire to take this role? Is he ready?”

“Yes, Milord,” Michael said, strongly, “even unto the ultimate sanction.”

Max was surprised to hear that, but resisted the temptation to look back at his master.

“Very well.” Lord Parker turned his attention to the dancing master. “I’d have the squire rip out your filthy tongue with a pair of armorer’s pliers, except that would end your chances at making a living. Instead, he’ll flog your bare back with a cat o’ nine tails until my daughter, Lady Maria, is satisfied you’ve had enough.

“Her punishment for being ‘disagreeable’ in the first place, which she has admitted to, is that she will have to watch you suffer from close range and know that the power to make it stop is hers and hers alone.”

After the meal, there was still light outside, which Lord Parker supplemented by ordering a number of pine torches lit and stationed around the area so everyone could see. Michael and Max had gone up to Michael’s room so Max could change into work clothes for the flogging. Both had reason to know this could get bloody.

When they returned, the crowd parted for them, and a nameless soldier handed Max a cat o’ nine tails. The dancing master, whose name Max had yet to learn - as he hoped punishing an unknown man would be easier - was already stripped to the waist and tied to a pole at the wrists, far over his head.

Max made a big show of taking a few practice swings to loosen up, then waited for Lord Parker to give permission to begin. Once he’d gestured, Max turned to Maria, who was standing only a few feet away. When she nodded her head, he turned to his task and brought the cat o’ nine tails down on the dancing master’s back at full force, forcing a bellow of pain from the thin man, as the cruel hooks at the ends of the leather straps dug into his flesh, and the straps themselves left huge red welts.

The soldiers watched and cheered each blow, and derided the dancing master as a sissy who was crying almost before the first blow had landed. The servants winced, but were very loyal to their employers - at least the servants who had come down from Roswell - and any attack on the family was not to be tolerated.

The younger ladies were in shock, with Elizabeth and Tess turning away and leaving after the second blow to keep from vomiting, but Maria hung on determinedly, while the dancing master screamed as if each blow was the last one he could possibly take.

Max had the man’s back crisscrossed with stripes from the leather straps and small gashes from the hooks after only five blows. After ten strokes, blood covered the dancing master’s back, and Maria had endured all she could.

“Stop!” She cried out. “Dear God, Squire Zan. Stop!” Max let go of the tool of discipline in mid-stroke, causing it to drop to the ground. He pulled out a short dagger to free the dancing master, but a tough, old sergeant beat him to it. The master collapsed backward into Max’s arms, who then stretched him out flat on his stomach, so some of the housemaids could rush in and help stanch the flow of blood.

Max wanted to heal him, but his need to maintain his disguise prevented that. He was sure the dancing master would hurt tomorrow, and for quite a few days thereafter, but he should survive. He figured tomorrow would be time to finally learn the man’s name.

Lord Parker had watched the beating, but spent most of his time focused on his daughter and on his future king. He was pleased to see his daughter was not quite the hard ass she always tried to portray herself as. Additionally, he knew many nobles liked to pronounce punishments and then leave it up to others to carry them out; he liked the idea that Squire Max could punish someone as long as was necessary and not flinch from the task. It boded well for him as a king.

Lord Parker pulled Michael aside as Max helped care for the fallen dancing master. “Your boy shows promise, Sir Michael.”

“That he does. I don’t think he ever expected to have to beat a man like that in his life.” They looked over at Max, and saw the front of his shirt was soaked with blood. “And now, he’s not worried about the blood he’s covered with, only with helping the man he’s just punished.”

[Cardinal]

Will there be any more dance lessons....?

Yes...but I'm betting there will be a new instructor.

Any bets on who it is?

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Here's a short chapter to tide you over.

There is a short quote from Aristotle near the end of this chapter.

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Chapter 15

Getting to Know You

The next day was a day off from dancing lessons, as the dancing master needed rest to start healing his wounds. Elizabeth heard that during breakfast, and finished eating quickly so she could make her way to the waryard and claim Max’s services before Maria assigned him to more nasty work. She hoped her sister would be thankful for the way he had stood up for her, but she knew Maria was quite capable of carrying a grudge for a long time.

Elizabeth was grateful to arrive before Maria did at the out of the way location where Sir Michael and his squire practiced. She then settled in to watch what looked like, to her untrained eyes anyway, like some weird form of wrestling. She eyed the two men from a discreet distance and hoped her father wouldn’t walk by and see her in such an unladylike pursuit.

Elizabeth marveled at the way the two men threw each other around, and wondered if this might be a good way for a smaller person to fight a larger one. To her, it all seemed like quickness combined with principles of angle and leverage. Not that she’d ever fight anyone, but it was a style that would suit Maria.

As the fighting slowed and Michael gave a last instruction to Max, Elizabeth stepped into full view and approached the sweaty men. The smells and sounds of the waryard were not her usual milieu, but she was not bothered by them either as she waited to be noticed. Max started to leave, and then saw Elizabeth, stopping immediately to bow to her. Michael bowed at the same time, and she dipped a quick curtsey in reply and waited until both men had straightened again before speaking.

“Sir Michael? I have been told your squire is available for household tasks once breakfast is over. Is this true?”

“It is, Milady.”

“Good. I wish to claim Squire Zan’s services today to help me reorganize the books in the library. The servants are no good for the job, as most can’t read, but since the squire used the library yesterday as he waited for dinner, I know he can.”

“Milady,” Michael said, just to stop her from talking, “you don’t have to justify your need for Zan’s services. Just tell me you want him and he’s yours.”

“I want him,” Elizabeth said with a smile. Oh boy, do I ever!

“Then he’s yours. Just make sure he comes back to me if he finishes before the evening meal.”

“Thank you, Sir Michael,” Elizabeth said. She looked directly at Max, but still spoke to Michael. “I’ll make sure your precious boy doesn’t get lost.”

That earned a chuckle from both men, and Max followed Elizabeth as she turned back toward the house. As they were in public, he kept quiet, waiting for his better to speak. She was dying to ask him about the night before, but thought better of doing so in public. Instead, she asked if he was ready to help her organize the library.

“Yes,” Max replied. “How do you want to do it?”

“I’d like to sort the books by subject, then by author, then alphabetically. That way, it should be easier to find all the various books on a subject that you could want.”

“Seems a sound method to me, Milady,” Max said.

Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder and scolded him, “I thought we decided last night that you were to dispense with the formalities and just call me Elizabeth.”

“Yes, Milady, you did.” Max gestured to the open land and all of the servants and soldiers working nearby. “But now we are in public, and these people of yours will demand I show you the respect to which you are entitled. My being overly familiar with you out here will just cause problems.”

“True. Nonetheless, Zan, I wish for you to call me Elizabeth…unless my father is nearby.”

Max sighed. “As you command…Elizabeth.”

All morning they worked, with her pointing to a shelf, him clearing it of books, and her sorting them into various stacks. Once that was done, Elizabeth began to sort the first subject by author, and once that was done, sorted each author by title. After an author’s books in a particular subject were sorted to her satisfaction, Max began to place the books back on the shelves in their new order.

The library consisted of some eight hundred volumes in total, which wasn’t a lot in Max’s experience as he was used to the extensive royal libraries, but he knew enough to know that number was a lot by the standards of the minor nobility and thus was likely a matter of great pride for Elizabeth and her family…and then there was the fact that there were at least two different books in this collection he had never seen before in his life, both of which he was dying to read. So, Max decided to use the library to ask her questions which would draw her out and let her shine.

“How long has your family been collecting books, Elizabeth?”

Not even bothering to look up from the books, she replied, “According to family legend, it was started by the fourth Baron of Roswell some two hundred years ago.”

Max looked at the books and counted as quickly as he could, just to make sure his estimate of eight hundred had been correct. It was. “I have a pretty good idea of how much books cost, so eight hundred books in two hundred years is rather impressive.

“Oh, this bit is nothing,” Elizabeth said, as she gestured at the books. “Most of father’s library had to be left at home. I was in charge of selecting which books got to come on the trip. There are still some four thousand books left at home.”

Max was staggered. That total was still considerably less than the number of books held in the royal libraries, but it had to be more than the amount held in even the richest duchies in the land…likely including his own.

“That is an incredible number, Elizabeth,” Max admitted. “Your family’s devotion to scholarship and the preservation of knowledge is amazing, and should be emulated by all.”

“We’ve never been a family of great warriors, which is strange given that our lands are right on the border, but we have produced three different holders of the post Lord High Treasurer.”

“Good with money instead of swords then.”

“Of course. Even the women. We have to be prepared to run the finances of a noble household once we are married, to make sure our families have all that our lords husband want without running the family into ruinous debt.” Elizabeth looked up from her books, and asked, “What about you, Zan? Your family must value a good education since you can speak Frankic.”

Max slowly nodded his head. “We do. For my father, education wasn’t stuffing my head with facts…it was giving me the tools to think for myself. And mother was always quoting one of those old philosophers of hers, who once said, ‘It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.’ So yeah, an education has always been important to my family.”

“Are Alemanni and Frankic all you can speak?”

Max thought carefully about his answer, before deciding to go with the truth, since that wouldn’t give her any sort of clue about his family or position. “No, I speak Iberian and Anglish, too.”

“Oh…well then, how about saying something for me.”

“In what?”

“Mmm…how about Iberian? It sounds so romantic as it rolls off the tongue.”

“Okay.” Max thought about what he could say that wouldn’t sound stupid to his ears, and then, realizing Elizabeth apparently couldn’t understand Iberian, he picked something he’d never have the nerve to tell her in their native tongue. So you want romance, do you? he thought. How about this? He spoke a brief couple of sentences, complete with rolling Rs, and waited for her reaction.

What he said translated to: ‘You, Elizabeth, are unlike any woman I’ve ever known. Singular in beauty, matchless in grace…’ he’d shaken his head helplessly, ‘…I find myself becoming more and more attracted to you with each passing day.’

Elizabeth and her sisters, however, could speak and understand Iberian very well, and what she heard made her flush with embarrassment. She turned her head quickly and pretended to be studying the bookcases to hide her reaction, as she didn’t want Max to realize she had baited him into speaking from the heart.

“That sounded quite…beautiful, Zan. Thank you.”

[Cardinal]

And because I can't leave a good thing alone...

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Chapter 16

Father Knows Best?

Once the books were done, Elizabeth called for a servant to fetch a carafe of well-watered wine, and a loaf of fresh bread with a choice of butter or olive oil for the two of them to share since they’d worked straight through lunch. She had been so engrossed by the books, and by Max’s unknowing declaration of his feelings, that she hadn’t noticed when it had been time to eat.

Max and his stomach had noticed lunch time slipping by, but if she was going to tough it out and skip lunch, there was no way he was going to wimp out and ask her to stop…especially not when she was looking so cute as she lovingly pored over the books.

Once the food was ordered, Elizabeth led Max down to a walled-in courtyard with a central fountain. There was a small table with a few plush seats off to one side. When the servants brought the food a few minutes later, it was arranged on the table, and Max waited for Elizabeth to go first. She played the gracious hostess and poured drinks for both of them, asking him if he preferred to dip his bread in olive oil or to slather it with butter. He chose the butter, as did she, so they each buttered up their own slices of bread, placed them on smaller plates, and moved over to sit on the coping of the fountain to eat.

“Thank you for your able assistance today, Zan,” Elizabeth said, in between bites.

“I’m always pleased to help a lady in need,” he replied, “but the thanks really belong to Sir Michael. He’s the one who’s got me working all over the manor.”

“Well…what would you be doing then, if your time was free?” Elizabeth was truly curious. She knew little about the man inside. Knowing what was close to his heart, what he really wanted to be doing, was becoming important to her.

“Truth? I’d be trying to discover any word of my family. I’ve only been gone from them for roughly two months, and I already miss them terribly.” Max looked down and scratched at the stone surface they sat on. “Seems an awfully silly thing to complain about. After all, once I have my knighthood, I may be gone for six to eight months at a time on military campaigns during time of war.” Max gazed back into Elizabeth’s eyes. “And yet, all I want is to tease my sister about her latest admirers, watch my father handle his daily business, and be there as my mother gets most of what she wants even though she pretends to be subservient to Father.” His finger trailed idly through the water. “Does that make me weak?”

“No,” Elizabeth said firmly, “it just makes you a man. All boys talk about is war and the glory and wealth they will amass. Men realize it all comes back to family, that the only lasting legacy any of us truly has is the people who come after us.”

Liking what she’d said, but feeling the conversation had become a bit too serious too quickly, Max moved it back to lighter topics, talking about how he’d like to be out riding his horse or maybe exploring the nearby city of Varshova, as he knows someone who lives there, and thus had heard much about the city.

Conscious of spending far too much time talking about himself, Max steered the conversation to Elizabeth and her interests…other than books, that is. She admitted she liked to ride also, and let Max know she preferred split skirts and a proper saddle to the ridiculous looking sidesaddles that some ladies preferred. And while she had a well-known preference for things that were practical, she did have a weakness for fresh flowers, and thus wanted to get a flower garden going as soon as possible.

“What flowers are your favorite?” Max asked, suddenly wishing he knew all the varieties growing at the Summer Palace.

“Irises and lilies smell so beautiful,” Elizabeth admitted, “but my favorites are roses, white ones in particular. Their shape, their smell…they’re just wonderful.” He carefully filed that bit of information away for future use.

As the bread and the watered wine came to an end, Elizabeth finally got around to asking about what she’d wanted to know all day long. “About last night…”

“Yes?”

She searched for the words that would work without insulting the man to which she was talking. “How…um, how did you manage to whip the dancing master? I was sick after a couple of blows and had to turn away.”

Max shrugged, as if not quite sure himself, and looked away from her. “I guess I could stand in there and do it because it was a matter of discipline. Something I’ve learned from my father is that painful lessons generally only have to be taught once. So once your lord father named the punishment, I was ready to be the instrument of its execution.” Max looked at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. “I seriously doubt that man will insult any lady, in so gross a manner at least, ever again.”

“Sooooooo, after beating him like that, how do you expect to work with him once he heals?”

“He’s paid his debt already. Whether we work together or not is completely up to the master. If he requests me to be a partner for you ladies, I will.”

It wasn’t long after that before Max and Elizabeth separated, with him returning to the waryard, and Elizabeth being late to her afternoon tutoring sessions. Lord Parker had noticed she was missing at the noon meal and had sent for her. When the servant came back to report she was sorting the books in the library, Lord Parker was satisfied, until the servant added that she was working with Sir Michael’s squire.

That pushed Lord Parker into action. He went to the room where she was supposed to be taking her lessons and waited…and waited…and just when he was about to have the manor searched to find her, she came bouncing down the hall.

“A little bit late, aren’t you?” Lord Parker asked, his impatience all but written on his forehead.

Surprised to see her father, Elizabeth dipped a quick curtsey, and said, “Yes, Father, I am. Please forgive me.”

“Let’s go, Elizabeth, it’s time for you and I to have a little talk.”

She gestured toward the school room. “But what about…”

“They have already been apprised of the situation and will expect you back in a couple of days’ time.” Lord Parker headed down the hall and Elizabeth hurried to follow.

“Two days?” Elizabeth asked. “What could I be doing tomorrow?”

That drew an unintentional grin from Lord Parker. “You always were the quickest of my girls.” Elizabeth smiled, proud to have earned such notice from her father. “And you’ve also always been the least romantically inclined. Tess actively searches for a storybook romance, and even Maria has been known to flirt outrageously from time to time.”

Their winding path through the manor didn’t confuse Elizabeth, as she knew the layout of the place better than anyone, after having spent weeks preparing the house for habitation. She knew full well that her father was headed toward the audience hall. To her, that meant this was a very serious talk, something she was not used to having directed at her.

“But you,” he continued, “you have always seen marriage as the tool it is supposed to be for us. You’ve always told me you wanted me to choose a good and just husband for you, one with the means to support you, and a strong disinclination to lose those means of support through gambling or other forms of wastage.” He craned his neck to look back at Elizabeth. “Am I right so far?”

“Perfectly, Father.” You know you are…emphasizing the point just irritates me.

Lord Parker stepped into the audience hall but held Elizabeth back, completely out of sight. “Out! Out! Everybody out! Clear this hall, and I do mean instantly!”

Once the hall was clear, mostly having been occupied before by servants doing daily cleaning, Lord Parker led Elizabeth in and headed for the High Seat. Once sitting there, he was no longer just her father, but was speaking to her as Lord Parker, Baron of Roswell.

“But now, a pretty face has caught your eye, and suddenly you know what it is to be a woman.”

“He’s not just a pretty face.”

“No. He’s not. More’s the pity. It would be easier to do what I have to if he were.” Lord Parker looked around his audience hall, confused for a second by its dissimilarity to the one in Roswell Castle. “It’s just occurred to me how little I use this room, since we have no commoners here to petition me for favors. Huh.” Lord Parker directed his daughter to stand in front of him, “Anyway, there are no favors to ask this afternoon. Not between us.”

“What do you mean, Father?”

“Squire Zan.” He drummed the finger of one hand on the armrest of his chair. “It seems I’ve told everyone, but you, that he is off limits.”

“And why should he be off limits? After what we’ve seen and heard of his conduct, am I likely to find a more gentlemanly young man? Anywhere? Or are you going to lie to me and say he’s not from a good enough family for me?”

“No…I cannot say what kind of family he is from. Not now. There is too much at risk.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “What, exactly, is going on back home? Have you had any secret messengers? Does the Evans dynasty still reign?”

“Having heard nothing to the contrary, I assume so.”

“You don’t want me to see Zan because of the danger we are in, and yet for me, that is the exact reason I want to press on. If the king loses his throne, our support of him will likely cost us everything. At that point, I should be lucky to marry a cobbler, much less a wealthy merchant, so why not flirt now with a young man who has to be from a powerful family of some sort? It might be my only chance.”

“And if I order you to stay away from him anyway?” Lord Parker asked. “With you knowing there are things going on I cannot tell you for your own safety?”

Elizabeth’s eyes began watering furiously as she knew her father was calling on her loyalty to him and her steadfast obedience to overrule her heart. Crying now, as she felt the first man she’d ever thought to love being ripped away from her for reasons she wasn’t even allowed to know, Elizabeth nodded, and choked out her answer. “Aye, Milord, if you order it absolutely…I will obey, absolutely.”

Lord Parker couldn’t remember the last time Elizabeth had referred to him as ‘Milord,’ but it hurt. It felt to him as if she was addressing a stranger, and not the man who’d raised her since her mother’s death. He knew what he had to say now would only make things worse.

“Then hear me now. Lady Elizabeth Parker, you are hereby restricted from any and all contact with Squire Zan, until such time as I order otherwise.”

Elizabeth bobbed a hasty curtsey as she said, “Yes, Milord. I will obey.” She turned then and fled from the room, tear-filled eyes making it hard to see where she was running, sobs wracking her slender frame at each step, until she came out of a side door, where she slumped against the wall and slid to the earth, head in her hands, heart in pieces.

Lord Jeffrey Parker sat on his seat and wondered what kind of man he had become to do that to his daughter…his shyest, least man-conscious girl. What might it have cost her to reach out to the squire? And how much harder will it be for her to open up to a man next time?

Damn you, Max Evans. Damn you to Hell.

Now that her liege lord has let her down, Lord Parker thought, it’s time for her father to try to console her.

He walked through the manor, looking for signs of Elizabeth’s hurried passage and asking servants if they knew where she’d gone. It took some time, but at last, he found his girl all cried out, slumped against an outside wall. Without a word, he bent his knees, scooped his daughter into his arms, and held her close against his chest.

“There, there, Elizabeth. I know it hurts, but the pain will fade. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but soon.” He carried her back inside and headed for her bedroom. “Speaking of tomorrow…the reason you won’t have lessons tomorrow is that we have finally received a summons from the grand duke for an audience, followed by lunch with the family.”

“Don’t care!” Elizabeth mumbled.

While her world was falling apart around her, Max got back to Michael far enough in advance of dinner that they had plenty of time for sword training. They’d skipped it the night before, in the wake of the flogging, but tonight, Michael found his squire almost dancing across the ground.

“Things going well with Lady Elizabeth?” Michael asked.

“Things are going superbly well with Lady Elizabeth,” Max sang out. He busied himself pulling on some armor, before turning back to face his opponent.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Squire?” Michael asked.

“Like what?”

Michael held up his blunted practice sword. “One of these maybe? They’ve been known to make sword fighting less painful for you and more so for your opponent.”

Max blushed a furious red and headed over to the equipment racks to pick out a blunted sword for himself.

While Max was arming himself, Michael called out, “I have this feeling I’m going to beat the living crap out of you, for at least the first ten minutes. Probably take you that long to get your mind off Lady Elizabeth’s ass…ets.”

Michael chortled as Max charged at him for talking about Elizabeth like that. But true to his prediction, he manhandled the prince at the outset, until a particularly sharp blow left Max gasping for breath. That seemed to focus him on the job at hand, and the practice went much more evenly after that.

When they finished and were headed inside to wash up for the evening meal, the two men were accosted outside Michael’s room by an angry Lord Parker. He wanted to strike Max, but remembered at the last second that hitting a prince wasn’t a good idea, so he shifted his aim and threw the punch at Michael instead.

Michael could have dodged the punch, or even caught it and thrown Lord Parker to the ground, but his split-second decision was to take it square on the chin. As he staggered backward into the far wall, Max reacted instinctively and grabbed Lord Parker under each armpit before lifting him as high as he could before slamming him into the other wall.

“Explain yourself, Milord,” Max said sternly.

“Have you forgotten who you are dealing with?” Lord Parker asked angrily.

“No, but I believe you have forgotten who you are dealing with. That man you just struck is my friend and mentor. Unless you can explain yourself to my satisfaction, I may allow him to return the blow.”

“I’ve never been treated in such a way in my own home…”

“And as a guest, I’ve never received such poor treatment at the hands of my host.”

Being called a poor host seemed to take the starch out of Lord Parker’s sails, and as he sagged, Max lowered him to the floor and took pains to dust off his back. Michael had already risen, but was rubbing his jaw.

“I apologize, Sir Michael,” Lord Parker said. “That punch was meant for your squire. I just happened to remember that hitting him isn’t the best idea. So, I lashed out at the man who is responsible for his actions.”

“Apology accepted.” As the two men shook hands, Michael asked, “What did Zan do this time?”

“My Elizabeth. He stole her tender heart, which forced me to break it when I found out.”

“Elizabeth?” Max said, his heart suddenly in his throat. “What have you done?”

Lord Parker’s eyes narrowed as they focused on Max. “What a father should do. I’ve had to ban her from seeing you, since your mentor was singularly ineffective in keeping you from her.”

Max gasped like he’d been sucker punched in the gut, and then he struggled to catch a breath. “Why?”

“Because she doesn’t have a chance at marrying you. Hurting her now is much preferable to waiting until everything’s back to normal, and the king marries you off to some foreign princess. Elizabeth having to watch the man she loves marry another would kill her…as it is, she won’t be coming down to eat tonight.”

“But is it so bad to explore what Elizabeth and I have? People are trying to kill me. There is no guarantee I’ll survive, even if my parents stop the rebellion.”

“That’s just another reason to stop it now. I don’t want her mourning your corpse. Lord knows if she did, she might join you in her grief.”

[Cardinal]

Chapter 17

Sisters

While Elizabeth and Max were starting to deal with their forced separation, and Lord General Khivar was chasing the king and queen somewhere in the south of Alemannia, Isabel was finally completing her long journey and settling into her new home. She had left the Summer Palace shortly after her brother, under completely different circumstances. Since all of her ladies-in-waiting had been given to the care of the crown, the decision had been made to send them all away. That made for a traveling party which would be far too large to hide once on the road, so the young women were sent where Khivar couldn’t follow.

Princess Isabel and her entire retinue of ladies boarded the royal flagship and were sent overseas, with an escort provided by a squadron of the North Sea Fleet, to live under the protection of the King of Anglia. The king and queen knew Khivar could not risk war with Anglia while still fighting to steal a crown at home, so Isabel would be safe until they and her brother were dead. One secret hope, which they hadn’t dared mention to anyone, involved Isabel’s immense beauty and charm. They’d always hoped to secure a great alliance by giving her hand in marriage; now they hoped she might forge an alliance all by herself.

The sea voyage took the squadron nearly three weeks due to contrary winds; not a few of the noble ladies spent significant time on the voyage ‘praying to the porcelain god,’ as the sailors called it, due to extreme seasickness. Their frequent use of their chamber pots for vomiting made the voyage an experience most of the ladies wouldn’t soon forget.

Isabel was immune to the motions of the sea, as her Antarian biology kept her from getting ill. So, she ended up spending most of her voyage helping the young women who were supposed to be helping her. She didn’t mind, as she knew the girls would do the same for her if their positions were reversed, and also, she loved having the chance to be truly useful for a change. Too many times, life at court made her feel like an ornament, not a person.

After the rough crossing, King Alexander’s representative took one look at the woozy women and announced they would be staying at his nearby castle to allow the ladies to rest up in preparation for the week-long journey to the king’s current residence at his summer hunting lodge, Ludlow Castle. Isabel tried to decline the kind offer, not wanting to put anyone out on her account, but the representative, who she had learned was the Duke of Hastings, wouldn’t have it.

“We’ve had rooms for you and all eight of your ladies ready and waiting just in case. The North Sea is known for its fickle weather, even in summer. Besides, I rarely get this much agreeable company out here in a year’s time, much less all at once.”

“In that case,” she said warmly, “we shall be delighted to accept.”

Isabel and her ladies rested and were entertained by the Duke for more than a week at his castle before a line of carriages and the accompanying baggage train headed inland under heavy guard.

“It seems this King Alexander is serious about keeping us safe,” Lady Elaine said, as she looked at the large number of horsemen guarding the procession.

“I should hope so,” Isabel replied. “Nine ladies of the Alemanni court have come for an extended visit, and the king is responsible for our safety. And then there’s the marriage factor. Only two of you eight girls are formally betrothed. That’s seven marriageable women from good families, all with large dowries, none of which have ever been to this kingdom before today. I expect us to be inundated with nobles young and old who are looking for a match once we reach wherever the king has established his court.”

“What about you, Isabel? Isn’t the prospect of marriage a little bit daunting for you?”

“Yes, it is. I was expecting a year or two of some serious courtship before Father chose someone for me. But now, I’m a little bit nervous…because of what’s going on at home, I think he’s advanced things a bit and sent us to one his favorite candidates for my hand. I mean, King Alexander is the only royal from a nearby kingdom that’s both unattached and a potentially useful ally.”

“But…what about Prince Bojan from Illyria?”

“I said a useful ally…besides, court gossip has it that his father has made a match for him with some princess from farther east.”

The journey to Ludlow Castle was supposed to take a week, and it did. The problem was, the king and his court had moved on, returning to his primary residence farther inland at Caserta Palace. That was another four days’ journey, which left the Alemanni ladies travel weary as their carriages slowed to a stop in front of the main entrance to the palace.

When apprised of the situation, King Alexander graciously insisted on giving the ladies the remainder of that evening and all the next day to rest up before making their first appearance in front of the whole court. That gave their maids plenty of time to prepare their best dresses, after weeks of travel, so they could make a good first impression on the Anglish court.

Thus it was that Isabel and her eight ladies took position just inside the entrance of the palace’s throne room and waited for their turn. When it came, Isabel led the way in a stunning cornflower blue dress that went well with her bright blonde hair. As was the current style, her dress was scooped low in front to show off her more than adequate bosom, along with the exquisite nature of her complexion.

As the women moved forward, the seneschal announced them. “Announcing Isabel of the House of Evans, Princess of Alemannia, and her ladies-in-waiting.”

Isabel had trained for a moment like this all her life. Now that it was time, she strode forward confidently and elegantly, with her ladies following behind in two rows of four. All nine of them came to a stop just before Isabel reached the dais and then they all curtseyed low. A low murmur rolled across the room as the people who’d heard rumors of the foreign princess’ beauty learned the rumors were true. At the same time, Alexander rose from his throne, resplendent in black pants which were stuffed into glossy black knee-high boots, and a red jacket thickly covered with black silk brocade, and walked down the three steps to the floor to stand before Isabel.

The king held out his hand to her, and said, “Please rise, ladies.” The nine women rose as one, with Isabel slipping her hand into Alexander’s, who then raised it to his mouth and lightly brushed the backs of her knuckles with a kiss before letting go of her hand.

“Welcome to Anglia, Princess Isabel. It is truly my delight to host you and your ladies for as long as you wish to stay.” Isabel smiled both inside and out, happy the king had been prudent enough to not say ‘for as long as you need to stay.’

She smiled genuinely at the king’s statement of an unconditional welcome. Alexander noticed the smile and found his eyes riveted to the princess’ face as she began to speak, “As for myself and my ladies, Your Majesty, we are deeply honored to be here and to be received by you in such a warm and personal manner. We look forward, with great pleasure, to experiencing the many delights of the Anglish court.”

“Please, Princess Isabel, call me Alexander.” That caused another low murmur to sweep the throne room.

Isabel smiled warmly and artlessly, unleashing the full force of her seemingly effortless charm on the unsuspecting king. “As you wish…Alexander…but please, call me Isabel. I’d feel ever so awkward otherwise.”

“As you wish, Isabel.” Not taking his eyes off the enchanting Isabel for even an instant, the spellbound Alexander reached behind and to the side and gestured, causing three young people to make their way to his side. They were two girls and a boy, all of whom appeared to be younger than Isabel’s sixteen years. Alexander quickly introduced them as his siblings, Princesses Anne and Victoria, and Prince John.

Isabel was genuinely pleased to be meeting the king’s family, and directed her charm toward them. The teenage girls admired Isabel’s beauty and grace, while the twelve year old boy was already smitten and made no attempt to hide his interest, something Isabel thought was secretly adorable. She responded to the king’s introduction by asking permission to introduce her ladies, which the king readily granted. It took a couple of minutes to properly introduce all eight and make sure each one got her full share of attention. After all, Isabel wanted to make sure any potential suitor knew who he was trying to court.

After enquiring about the suitability of their accommodations here in the palace, and receiving enthusiastic approval, Alexander placed his staff at the disposal of the Alemanni ladies should there be anything they require. The king then promised he’d see Isabel at dinner and called court to a close. As he walked out a back door and led a few close friends to a private hideaway, they all started in on him for the way he’d been looking at the admittedly gorgeous princess.

“I think the Privy Council won’t have to push our dear Alexander very hard for much longer to get him to consider marriage,” Baron Howard said.

“Yeah,” replied Baron Percy, “and if he marries this filly, he’ll be more anxious than a stallion corralled with a mare in heat to get to work producing that long-awaited heir.”

Alexander wouldn’t waste his breath trying to deny his obvious interest in the lady. Instead, he said, “Well…there have to be some benefits to being king. If the girl is even half as smart as she is beautiful and charming, I’ll be sending my lawyers to her father to draw up a marriage contract before the month is over.”

“That’s if the king survives the revolt going on right now,” Baron Howard added. “If not, you’d have to hope her brother survives. Otherwise, she becomes a ward of the Alemanni court, which would put her at the disposal of that disagreeable Lord General Khivar.”

“Anyone know anything about the son?” Alexander asked casually.

“His name’s Maximilian,” Baron Warwick replied, “and he’s reputed to be quiet, unless you manage to make him angry. Also, he’s supposed to be smarter than Hell. And given your current interest, I’ll add that he’s thought to be thoroughly devoted to his sister.”

“Smart? How do you know that?”

“Easy. In his review of our neighbors to the east before this whole mess began, your ambassador to the Alemanni court, Lord Stanley, said don’t play the boy a game of chess unless you have a sincere need for a lesson in humility. He’s also reputed to speak multiple languages as if native-born.”

“I remember now,” Alexander said, smiling slightly at the old Earl’s words. “I bet after his first loss, Stanley challenged the Prince to at least a dozen more matches before he accepted his losses as being no accident.” Before the king and his friends disappeared into their hideaway for a short game of high stakes cards, he thought out loud, and said, “Maybe I should see if the princess plays chess. If she can play me a good game, while knowledgably talking about her parents’ political situation back home, then…I may truly be in trouble.”

Baron Howard shot back a smart-assed reply that got himself clouted on the ear. “My Sovereign, you were prepared to surrender, on whatever terms you could obtain, the moment that stunning young woman first opened her mouth and smiled.”

Meanwhile, back in Krakovia, a despondent Elizabeth was dressed for sleep and reading a favorite book by candlelight, when her room was unceremoniously invaded by both of her sisters.

“Okay, Shortstuff,” Maria said, “what’s up with skipping dinner?”

“Nothing much, ‘ria.”

Elizabeth had heard her sisters come in, but hadn’t looked up until her elder sister spoke. ‘Shortstuff’ was a nickname Maria had used for Elizabeth when they were little. Elizabeth, in turn, had referred to her elder sister ‘ria since she hadn’t quite been able to manage pronouncing Maria. The girls hadn’t used the nicknames in years, but tonight, they found a strange comfort in hearing them once more.

Elizabeth set down her book, and said, “Just catching up on some reading.”

Tess looked at the book as she flopped down on the side of Elizabeth’s bed. “In this book? I know you’ve read it ten times…”

“At least,” Maria pitched in.

“…at least,” Tess agreed, “but what’s funny is, you only read it these days when you’re upset. So what’s got you upset?”

“Father blister your butt like he did mine?” Maria asked, before answering her own question. “No, I guess not, because sitting would not be an option if he had. Not even in a feather bed.”

Elizabeth figured Maria would cuss her out if she made known her interest in Max. Tess had shown an appreciation for his looks, but hadn’t indicated if she had much of an interest in him beyond what she could see. Deciding she didn’t care what either of her sisters might think right now, Elizabeth opened up.

“Father, or maybe I should say Lord Parker, has forbidden me to see the young man I told you about the other night, Tess.”

“Where was I?” Maria asked.

“Rubbing ointment on your blistered butt,” Elizabeth replied dryly.

“Moving that fast already?” Tess asked, plainly surprised. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Elizabeth was getting more and more worked up as she went along. “I was just a little bit late to my afternoon tutoring session today and Father was waiting for me. He dragged me into the audience hall and sat on his chair and went all ‘Baron of Roswell’ on me, absolutely forbidding me to have any contact with Zan at all.”

Maria and Tess looked at each other and then back at Elizabeth, before saying, “Zan?!” in unison. Each girl was as surprised as could be to know their sister had it bad for the squire, though they had widely divergent ideas about the young man themselves.

Maria thought Elizabeth had gone a little soft in the head, even though she herself was coming to see Max wasn’t such a bad guy after all, while Tess was surprised to learn she had competition from within the family…competition that had just been stifled by their dear old father.

Seeing an odd pair of reactions from her sisters, Elizabeth decided at the last second to skip over Max’s declaration of interest. There was no telling how they would react to that.

[Cardinal]

Chapter 18

Going to Town

Breakfast the next morning was an unusual affair. Max and Michael got up early and ate with the cooks to avoid any unpleasantness from running into Lord Parker, or any awkwardness from meeting Elizabeth. The problem was, the Parkers went to the dining hall early also since the girls were scheduled to undergo a lengthy prep before the family left for their audience with the grand duke. Thus, Michael and Max were making their way out of the kitchen to claim a nearby table to eat their meal of sausages and oatmeal sweetened with a dab of honey, when the Parkers walked in the double doors on the opposite side of the room one by one.

Lord Parker was first, and all three men grimaced upon seeing each other. Michael and Max decided to not take any chances, and both stood at their places until Lord Parker waved them back into their seats. Maria was next a minute or so later, and while the guys remained seated, they executed small seated bows in her direction. Max’s eyes quickly passed over her, as he’d long ago decided ignoring her was the best way of handling her. Tess came in next. Her bright smile at that early hour earned her an involuntary smile from both men in reply.

Elizabeth was the last of the three. Michael looked her over and thought she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. Max could feel Lord Parker’s eyes on him like a touch, so he tried to avoid looking at her at all. She wasn’t looking up as she walked and didn’t see either Max or Michael until she nearly ran into their table on the way to get her meal. She started to apologize, but then saw who was at the table and fled into the kitchen without another word being spoken.

Having Elizabeth run from him hurt Max, even though he knew why she did. He stood then, suddenly feeling a need to leave before she came back and his mere presence caused her more pain. Walking up to the head table where Lord Parker had just sat down, and the girls had yet to appear, Max bowed properly, and then said, in a very quiet voice, “That young woman wanted to spend time with me yesterday, which is something I don’t get a lot of, but now she doesn’t just avoid me, she runs from my presence. I hope you’re happy with yourself.

“And before you dismiss what I just said, most young women of good birth that I meet don’t want to spend time with me; they’re too busy trying to figure out how to catch the Crown Prince.”

Maria didn’t hear anything that was said, but she came back out of the kitchen as the squire stalked off. She then saw how stiffly Lord Parker was sitting at the table.

“What was that all about, Father?” Maria asked. She didn’t hate Max anymore, but if he was going to be disrespecting her father, then she had no qualms with seeing him punished.

“The squire is not happy with my decision regarding himself and your sister Elizabeth. He was just blowing off some steam.”

“Must’ve been some potent steam.”

“Hmm?” Lord Parker said. “What do you mean?”

“When he left, he still looked upset and you looked…well, you looked nervous.”

“Oh, you’re just seeing things…likely because you still dislike the squire.”

Maria continued to try probing her father, at least until Tess came out, and while her father didn’t reply in a manner she would have liked, she ended up convinced the squire was far more than a simple squire aspiring to knighthood.

Too bad we’re already off on the wrong foot. A guy with that kind of power is just the kind of husband I need to find to help protect my sisters once father dies and his title, lands, and incomes are given to some other man.

After eating, the girls headed back up to their rooms, where they were descended upon by a bevy of housemaids. Each group was determined their lady would be the most beautiful one and thus the most likely to draw some favorable notice in the palace.

Ready and waiting for his daughters to appear, Lord Parker looked resplendent arrayed in glossy black boots, white knee-length pants that were tucked into the tops of the boots, and a purple waist-length uniform jacket with gold trim on the edges, gold braid across the chest, and up the arms from his cuffs to his elbows.

The purple and gold were house colors. If Lord Parker’s small army wore their full dress uniforms, all of them would be in some sort of purple and gold uniform. The ladies, however, wore whatever colors they chose. As always, Maria was ready first in a pale pink gown, which was a safe choice since ladies tended to avoid bold colors for morning social engagements. Tess surprised her father by being next. She was usually the daughter that took forever, but today she beat Elizabeth and was wearing a pale yellow gown. Both women had wide, square necklines to their gowns that went deep enough to show off a healthy portion of bosom along with the skin.

Jeffrey had always thought that strange. Women covered their legs right down to the ankles, as if a mere glimpse of leg would utterly compromise their reputations, but the very same dress would show so much skin up top that the most adventurous women always seemed to be on the verge of having their breasts spill out.

On the one occasion he’d tried to ask his girls about this, they just smiled at him and patted his shoulder as if he was a doddering old man who just didn’t get the way things were these days. The most disturbing thing had been the fact that all three girls had done almost the same exact thing to him when he had asked.

When Lord Parker tired of waiting and wondered aloud where Elizabeth was, the other girls were quick to tell him there had been some arguing coming from her room earlier. All three of them could see what the commotion had been over when she appeared at the head of the stairs, somberly attired in all black, with a neckline so high that it appeared to be trying to choke her.

Both Maria and Tess nearly choked when they saw Elizabeth’s choice of dress, and their father swallowed hard before advancing on his daughter. “Are you out of your mind? Going to the grand duke’s palace in all black as if it you were part of a funeral procession? Go back in there and take that off this instant!”

“There’s no time, Father,” Maria interjected. “If we wait for Elizabeth to change, we will all be late.”

Jeffrey knew Maria was right. He also knew Elizabeth had already known that; she’d waited to come out until it was too late to force her to change.

All the way to the carriage, the largest and fanciest one he owned, Lord Parker kept up a running commentary to Elizabeth. “You’re just doing this to get back at me for last night. Such insolence. Our one chance as a family to make a proper impression on the nobility of Krakovia and you have to ruin it with this stunt. I’d had hopes of making some contacts that might lead to a properly arranged marriage or two, but after a faux pas like this, we’ll be lucky to receive visits from any marriageable men.

“But I promise you this, Elizabeth. I will find you a marriage, no matter who I must accept as my son to do it! Anything to get that damnable squire out of your head once and for all.”

Elizabeth went pale at that last statement. She was angry at that moment, possibly as angry as she had ever been. Having had enough, between the forced separation from Max and her father’s intemperate comments, she turned on him and paid him in kind. “Don’t go blaming me for ruining our marriage prospects. If you could have managed to stop indulging Maria’s desire to be your son long enough to be a proper father and make her put away her swords two or three years ago when it might have actually been useful, she would have found an eligible situation by now and you wouldn’t have to worry so much about blaming me.

“So, when it comes to finding a husband, attend to my elder sister first, Father. I have two more years before people start whispering ‘old maid’ about me.”

Maria had been enjoying the rare war of words between her father and Elizabeth, right up until the point where her own name was dragged into the argument. Hearing Elizabeth enunciate her own failures just rubbed salt into a wound Maria had only recently discovered. She knew she needed to marry. It was her duty, and it was also her duty to marry well to provide for her sisters.

Maybe…maybe it’s not too late to repair things with Squire Zan. As connected as he must be to make Father nervous, surely marrying him would be just the match for which I’m looking. Still, Father did end any chance of a match between Elizabeth and Zan…I have to find out why before I can continue.

It was hard for Tess to tell which of her three family members was the most angry at this moment, but it was easy to tell who had won the argument. Maria was brooding, while Lord Parker looked like he might explode if someone touched him, but Elizabeth has walking with a spring in her step that hadn’t been there all morning.

Jeffrey had been caught flatfooted by his middle daughter’s counterattack. That kind of fiery response is something he’d have expected from Maria, except with her, she’d have been too angry to think straight and would have said something that made no sense and then stormed off. But his middle daughter, his most brilliant daughter, wasted no time in hitting him right where it would hurt the most: his dereliction of duty when it came to Maria.

It all went back to the beginning. Lord Parker’s first wife, Lady Ingrid, had died in childbirth and the baby was stillborn. Six months later he’d married Lady Laura, the widow of a neighboring count and had adopted the woman’s child as his own. That was Maria, who was barely one at the time. Elizabeth had been born a year later, and Lady Laura had died shortly thereafter. It was thought her delivery had weakened her enough to make her susceptible to whatever illness it was that had taken her.

Then came his third wife, Lady Anne, who was Tess’ mother. He’d been really nervous about a male heir by that time, and had pressed his new wife for a boy. Not only had they talked about it, but it had been a major topic of conversation among the servants, too.

Maria had been four years old at that time and was just old enough to understand that, as much as her father seemed to love her, what he really wanted was a boy. It was the first time in her life that she had felt inadequate. She’d cried herself to sleep that night, and many thereafter, and had watched her father anxiously when he learned her stepmother had given birth to a girl.

Not another damn girl! had been his frustrated reply.

From that moment on, Maria had tried her best to be the son her father wanted so desperately. The nursemaids had tried to put a stop to it, but Lord Parker had been told Maria had been crushed to learn that being a girl wasn’t good enough, so he decided to leave her be, especially after Lady Anne died.

When pushed by his advisors to marry yet again, he hedged. He didn’t want to do that to Maria again and make her feel even less worthy. Then there was Elizabeth to consider. She would be old enough by the time another baby could come to understand that the premium placed on male children meant she wasn’t considered to be good enough either. The girls were Jeffrey’s life now, so as much as he wanted a son to carry on the family name and to follow him as Baron of Roswell, he couldn’t put his girls through that again…he decided three wives were enough.

Maria didn’t know that though. She was still determined to be his son, to finally be ‘good enough’ in his eyes. Over the years, she threw herself into swordplay, horsemanship, even wrestling until her body began to develop and her father banned it. Anything that would make her more like the boy her father had so desperately wanted.

Jeffrey had thought himself as being kind to allow Maria to have her way in this, but ever since the beating of the squire, he’d realized he had done her no favors by allowing her such freedom. He now had very limited time to try and get her to soften her edges in the hope he could find someone who wouldn’t mind a rough-hewn wife.

Having Elizabeth publicly delineate his failure as Maria’s father just rubbed salt in an already festering wound, both because she was right, and because it was Elizabeth who said it. Now that he was dealing with her seeming infatuation with the prince, along with Maria’ difficulties, he was just waiting for Tess to develop some kind of problem, too.

Just before stepping outside, all four Parkers were covered with dust cloaks and caps for the ride into Varshova on the well-traveled and dusty main road. After Tess’s one abortive attempt at starting a conversation, the ride was made in nearly complete silence, with the only sound being the jangling armor of six knights and fourteen other horsemen who were escorting them.

The city of Varshova was not only the capital city of Krakovia, but also one of the largest seaports on the continent. The grand duchy was small, but had a relatively enormous income due primarily to being a major sea trading power. But that income didn’t lead to an overly wealthy land, as much of that income was needed to support an army large enough to discourage any of Krakovia’s neighbors from invading and claiming that income for themselves.

Lord Parker knew the House of Evans hoped their son would be able to marry Princess Serena and thus claim that land and that income for Alemannia, but today, he and his daughters were getting their first look at the city. It was the first look the three women had ever had of any capital city, and they were gawking like country bumpkins at the sheer size of the place. The capital of the their father’s barony was a bump in the road by comparison.

Not only was Varshova larger, it was louder, smellier, and more crowded. The good thing was that getting lost when looking for Slonce Palace was generally impossible since the main road into town ran arrow-straight to the docks. From there, the palace was just visible at the far end of an elevated promontory south of the harbor.

The lightly gilded, black lacquered carriage made its way up the winding cobblestone road to the palace and in through the wrought iron gate. The pathway straightened out once inside the gate, and the carriage rolled through nearly a mile of lightly wooded parkland before reaching the palace proper.

As the four visitors alighted from the carriage, and handed their dust cloaks and caps to the liveried servants who had rushed out to meet them, Lord Parker spoke for the first time since receiving his dressing down from Elizabeth.

“Slonce Palace,” he breathed in deeply. “It’s supposed to mean ‘Sun Palace’ in the language of the palace’s original builders. But until you see how readily the white, marble-faced walls reflect any stray beam of light, you just can’t appreciate the name.”

The four Parkers climbed the wide steps of the formal entrance into the palace, passing a matched pair of formally armed and armored pikemen every tenth step. By the time they reached to doors, Lord Parker turned to his three girls, and said, “You think this palace is something? Wait until I finally take you all to Königsberg. The Winter Palace inside the city exceeds this palace the way this palace exceeds Roswell Castle back home. And as for the sprawling Summer Palace, it’s truly a sight to behold.”

Thus fortified with the knowledge that this palace was nothing out of the ordinary, the three girls followed their father through the doors and into the Entrance Hall, where they were greeted by a flurry of servants who rushed forward with damp cloths to help them cool down, refresh themselves, and wipe their hands while they waited for their audience.

Once the servants were done, Grand Duke James’ majordomo stepped forward to greet them and make sure of their personal information so that their introductions went smoothly. The man then pointed toward some comfortably padded seats to one side, and said, “Please rest here. The grand duke will be with you in a moment.”

[Cardinal]

Chapter 19

Tricked

Lord Parker settled in for a long wait. The majordomo had said ‘a moment,’ but Jeffrey had been around long enough to know people were always told that no matter how long the anticipated wait might be. He knew leaders tended to assume other people would bend their schedules to accommodate the schedules of those same leaders…and since those ‘other people’ wanted the leaders’ attention, they did bend their schedules.

In this case, however, Jeffrey’s pessimism was unfounded, as the grand duke had a light schedule and it literally wasn’t much more than a moment before the Parkers were ushered down a long hallway and into the throne room.

Lord Parker led his daughters across the parquet floor and in between the narrow, fluted columns on the way to the raised dais, and as they reach their position, the majordomo’s voice rang out.

“Your Graces, may I present to your Lord Jeffrey Parker, fourteenth Baron of Roswell, and his three daughters: Lady Maria, Lady Elizabeth, and Lady Tess.”

Jeffrey bowed low and held it, and each girl used and held her most elegant curtsey when she was named. Meanwhile, the introduction went on.

“You are supplicants before the Pearl Throne, held by James I Valenti, Defender of the Realm, Admiral of the North Sea, and by the Grace of God, Grand Duke of Krakovia. With him are his lady wife, Grand Duchess Sophia, and his children Princess Serena and Prince Kyle.”

“You may rise,” James said. The Parkers did just that and both sides got a good look at the other. “No sons, Lord Parker? Or just not on this trip?”

“None, your Grace.” There was no trace in Jeffrey’s voice of the old heartache over having no sons. It was just a statement of fact.

“But three lovely daughters. I expect your manor will be a popular destination, especially with so many families coming back to the city for the fall and winter months. There never seem to be enough women to go around.” James looked back over his shoulder to where his son, Prince Kyle, was standing. “Is not that right my boy?”

“And so it is, Father,” Kyle replied.

“Now,” James said, “before we move on to the important things, like why you have suddenly moved your household to a manor just outside my capital, tell me why the middle girl…”

“Lady Elizabeth, your Grace,” the majordomo supplied.

“…Lady Elizabeth is dressed from head to toe in black.”

“She has recently suffered a…a personal setback, and has chosen to make her unhappiness official,” Jeffrey said.

“Sounds like boy trouble to me,” James replied knowingly. He thought for a second, then reached behind himself and gestured for his son to come forward. “I know just the thing.” When Kyle reached his father’s side, he carefully stayed one step behind his him, but was still able to see and be seen by all the Parkers. “I do not know if you have heard of it or not, but the first and biggest event on our fall and winter social calendar each year is the Harvest Ball. It is really a formal dinner followed by a ball, but the thing is, Kyle here needs an escort…and Lady Elizabeth appears to need a distraction. So what if we match my Kyle and your Elizabeth for the ball?”

Lord Parker didn’t even have to think. Saying no would be a direct insult to the most powerful man in the land, and accepting would give Elizabeth something to look forward to other than Max. “Yes, your Grace. I believe that idea will work out well.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Prince Kyle and Lady Elizabeth just stared at each other. This was the way of life among the nobility, but having it happen to you could still be unsettling. “While we discuss business, why don’t we let my son and your daughters get to know each other out in the water garden.”

“Again, your Grace, a most excellent idea.”

Grand Duke James signaled and Kyle led the three Parker ladies through a labyrinthine series of passageways to a stunning garden that centered around a series of fountains and man-made waterfalls. The water tumbled from one water feature into the next down a long, gradual slope. On each side of the line of water features was a wide, smoothly paved walkway with carefully laid and leveled stone steps.

When Prince Kyle asked if the ladies would like any refreshment, Maria answered in the affirmative just to have a few seconds alone with Elizabeth. Kyle walked off to find a servant, and Maria turned to Elizabeth and said, “Talk about luck! You show up at the palace in mourning garb and will walk out of here as the escort of the most eligible bachelor in the whole grand duchy!”

“So much for the squire,” Tess added, hoping it was true. “Once you turn on the charm - and once you wear a dress that’s even halfway becoming - the prince will be begging his father to make a more permanent match with you.”

“Prince Kyle is handsome, and so far he’s been as well-mannered as you’d expect a man of his breeding to be,” Elizabeth said cautiously, “but we all know the likelihood of a match between him and me is somewhere between slim and none, and in any case, the prince has a long way to go to live up to the squire…” Elizabeth had been looking at both of her sisters and saw something there when she mentioned ‘the squire.’ She decided to put it all on the table. “…who we all believe is more than just a lowly squire hoping to earn a knighthood.” How much more is the question.

When Kyle reentered the water garden, Elizabeth got a better look at him and had to admit he was easy on the eyes. Only slightly taller than Maria, his brown hair was worn in a bristly cut, and his face was graced with a strong, square jaw line that framed an easy smile. Add to that his athletic figure, and most women could only dream of finding someone halfway interesting who looked as good. Despite that, Elizabeth was stuck with the feeling he could never be more than second best for her. She knew, however, if the grand duke proposed a marriage between Prince Kyle and herself, her father would agree in a heartbeat.

The three girls ended up circling the entire length of the water garden with Kyle, and all of them made an effort to get to know him, but by silent agreement, Elizabeth did most of the talking as she was going to be his escort in slightly less than a month’s time.

While the Parkers were making inroads on the Krakovian social scene, King Phillip and Queen Diana were nearing the end of their long road. Instead of fleeing directly to their mountain refuge, they had led Khivar’s forces on a merry chase designed to prolong things and give their supporters as much time as possible to organize and supply their own army.

Their escort was provided by a full regiment of the household cavalry, and Khivar’s army could not hope to keep up, much less draw closer, so he left his infantry and heavy cavalry behind and pushed on ahead with his fast-moving light cavalry in the hope of catching the king and queen on the open road and capturing them. His small column of cavalry finally spotted its quarry less than a day’s ride from Mecklenberg Castle, a large, well-supplied fortress perched on a wedge of rock high above the city of Salzerei. It was the home of the Duke of Salzerei, who was known to be a strong supporter of the king.

Khivar’s scouts had found no sign of a concentration of loyalist forces anywhere nearby, letting him know finally that this flight by the king and queen was a decoy, meaning the opposition army could be anywhere. His own army was strung out over seventy-five miles of road, and he had some hard work ahead of himself to get his army back into a cohesive unit before it was attacked by the loyalists and destroyed a piece at a time.

Since Khivar's need to concentrate his forces was paramount, he had two options at his disposal for dealing with the king and queen. He could make a last ditch effort at capturing the Evanses before they reached the castle, or else he’d have to lay siege to the castle with a small part of his army, once he got it reorganized. The first choice was much preferred, but came with risks. His fast-moving light cavalry would be able to catch the Evanses’ carriage and the household cavalry that was guarding it. The problem was, his men and horses were already worn out by the long chase, and even if they were healthy and well-rested, they likely wouldn’t be able to match up with the household cavalry in a pitched battle.

So, the only way Khivar could possibly capture the king and queen was to risk himself and the few Antarian followers he had brought along with him so they could use their powers on the household cavalry. But risking himself was not going to happen. A siege might be slower, but was more sure of success, so he brought his men to a halt, and gave orders to ring the castle to prevent any chance of escape while the rest of his army joined him.

Lord General Khivar, Duke of Walachia and hero of the last two wars with Franconia, had been tricked by a man and woman who had never set foot on an active battlefield in their lives. No matter, he thought, they will be mine anyway. It’s only a matter of time.

He dictated orders to his aide-de-camp, who sent those orders by courier to the rest of his army. They were all instructed to make their best speed and join him at Salzerei. And while he waited for his army to arrive, he began scouring his maps to decide the most likely place for the loyalist army to be gathering. Weeks lost. Money and supplies wasted, he groused. I’m going to have to send out scouts in every direction. More time lost. Or maybe…maybe I can dreamwalk a few of the more prominent loyalist lords. With luck, they might reveal where they are hiding.

Up ahead in the carriage, the Evanses smiled and shared a fierce hug when they finally gained the safety of Mecklenberg Castle.

“All in all, Phillip,” Diana said, smugly, “it was a pretty successful diversion.”

“Yes it was. I wonder what Maximilian will think when he learns just how well his trick worked.”

“His trick?” Diana was surprised. She’d never heard of her son’s role in planning this.

“Yes, his,” Phillip assured her. “He had this idea years ago, during some training on strategy. It was little more than an off-hand comment at the time about how the king and queen had a strong potential for use as a diversion, but the officer instructing him relayed the comment to me, and I’ve kept it in mind ever since.”

“So our son is showing at least a little bit of aptitude for military matters. Interesting.”

[Cardinal]

Chapter 20

The New Dancing Master

By the time Grand Duke James finished with Lord Parker and both families gathered for a rather lengthy lunch, Kyle had made a promise to come out to the manor to call on Elizabeth so they could get to know each other better before the ball.

The Harvest Ball promised to be the biggest social event of Elizabeth’s life, and because she didn’t seriously think there was a snowball’s chance in Hell she’d actually end up betrothed to the prince, she was determined to enjoy the ball…even if there was someone else she’d prefer to be going with. Being invited this early would give her plenty of time to work with the family’s dressmakers to come up with something that would match the occasion and live up to the high rank of her escort.

As the Parkers climbed back into the carriage, Lord Parker pulled Elizabeth aside, and said, “I know you didn’t intend it, but your all black won you a most prestigious honor. Even if nothing happens between you and the prince, every eligible man of consequence will see you on Prince Kyle’s arm, making you all the more attractive to them.”

“Good for them, Father, not good for me. I still want Zan.”

“We all want things we cannot have. The sooner we recognize what those things are, the sooner we can move on to the things we can have.”

As their guard formed up around the carriage for the short trip to the Alemanni ambassador’s residence, a veil of silence descended over the carriage’s inhabitants once more.

Lord Eduard Pierzynski was the ambassador, just as Jeffrey had thought several days earlier. His main job was acting as the conduit of the king’s will as related to Krakovia and its court. He would much rather be back home on his various estates in the County of Ellsinore, but duty called, and so did the king. The count was a genial host, but the stop was just a brief courtesy call due to the king’s representative from a loyal noble passing through.

The best part of the courtesy call was that Lord Parker received the first official news that Khivar was on the move back home. Jeffrey knew any news they received would be hopelessly out of date due to the distances involved, but still, it was relief to know the rumored rebellion was finally underway.

When the Parkers finally reached their manor, the guard detachment peeled off and headed for their part of the complex, while the carriage pulled to a halt at the manor’s front door. Tess and Maria headed inside, but Lord Parker held Elizabeth back and pulled her to one side to talk privately.

“What I have done to you and to Squire Zan was to keep you from having your heart broken in a relationship that I believe has nowhere to go.” Jeffrey looked at the ground and aimlessly kicked at a clump of dirt. He then tilted his head up enough to see Elizabeth with one eye. “But it’s too late for you, isn’t it? You already care for him.”

Elizabeth hesitated briefly and then nodded. “Yes, Father, I do. Greatly, and I don’t really know why.”

“I should have guessed this would happen. The girl who seemingly had no time for boys would be the one to fall hard and fast for the first boy to break through her defenses.”

Sensing an opening, Elizabeth pushed. “Who is he that he’s such an impossible match? Maria, Tess, and I all know he’s more than just a simple squire dreaming of a being a knight.”

“I think you girls know more than might be healthy for you, and as for the squire’s identity, that’s a secret that is not mine to tell…and for the love you bear me, Elizabeth, let that secret be.

“Now…as much as I would like to keep you away from the squire, I can’t. Not any longer. Not after what happened today.” Elizabeth smiled giddily, unable to keep herself from expressing her joy upon hearing that reluctant statement. “Don’t smile yet, Daughter,” Jeffrey said testily. “You don’t know what’s going on.” She calmed down and her father continued. “The grand duke told me a few things once we were alone. He already knows all about our dancing master. It turns out the name the man gave me was false. He is actually the third son of a locally powerful family, the Van Wyks. The man’s father is the younger brother of the Duke of Alfaro, who ranks right below the grand duke here in Krakovia.”

“Was the dancing master sent here as a spy then?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mmm…a spy of sorts, yes. He was tasked with learning all he could about you and your sisters. Apparently the Duke wanted to know what you all were really like before sounding me out about arranging a match or two. It appears my girls aren’t good enough for his sons, but his nephews were a different story. I guess the spy was to prevent any of his sons or nephews from getting stuck with a disagreeable wife.”

“So…you had Zan beat the nephew of this Duke, and they want to take revenge?”

“Yes, but not on Zan. Apparently the duke’s family believes Zan was just carrying out orders, and is thus not who they want. They want revenge on our family. Once I explained the events of the other night to the grand duke, he agreed that the insult had to be punished, but then said the duke’s family would see it as having been excessive.”

Elizabeth was outraged, and planted angry fists on her hips. “And if Zan had referred to the duke’s daughter as a drunken whore?”

“The very same question I asked,” Jeffrey said. “The grand duke said the duke would have, without doubt, had anyone who so insulted the honor of one of his daughters killed.”

“What a double standard!”

“They are a proud family and very prickly about their honor. As you will be our representative at the ball, I fear any attempt at retrieving their honor will be directed at you in some way, so I’ll give you extra guards wherever you go, while you will need to redouble your efforts at polishing your skills.”

“Ah…that’s how Zan fits into this. You’re obviously going to send the ‘dancing master’ away, and finding someone else to be the new master might take time, time we don’t have, so you’ll make a virtue out of a necessity and ask the squire to step in and teach us as best he can.”

“Ask? The next time I ask a squire of my household to do me a favor will be the first. I’ll tell Sir Michael that his squire is the new dancing master forthwith. And you, my dear, will be spending double the time every day working on dances with him…pairs dances, group dances…” Jeffrey fished into his jacket, and pulled out a thick sheet of paper, “…anything that’s on this sheet.”

Elizabeth snatched the sheet from her father and read the list minutely. “How did you get this?”

“I asked the grand duke if he knew what kinds of dances you might be expected to know. Instead of guessing, he did one better and sent for his chief musician who wrote out a list of each dance that was on his list for the ball.”

“I only know half of these well enough to dance them properly,” Elizabeth said, as she returned the list to her father.

“Well then, the squire has his work cut out for him, and you can tell him I said so.”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me.” Lord Parker smiled indulgently. “I can already tell you intend to go straight from talking to me, to finding a certain squire.” Elizabeth grinned widely. “Please, just be careful. Don’t make things worse; it will only hurt more when it’s over. Trust me on that one.”

“I’ll try, Father,” Elizabeth promised, “but I have this feeling that fighting love is like fighting quicksand…the harder you struggle, the faster you sink.”

“Get on with you then.”

Elizabeth bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried off because she wanted to see Max before the evening meal. She wanted to be the one to tell him that they could see each other again. In through the front, out through the back, and then over to where she knew Max and Michael did their sword work. She finally slowed to a walk and caught her breath, as she didn’t want to give the impression that she, a lady, was chasing after a man.

As Elizabeth drew near, she didn’t hear the clank of swords or raised voices, so she thought she was too late. And then she heard Michael call out loudly.

“I have enough water now, Squire. Get some for yourself, but be quick about it, the kitchen staff will have a meal ready any time, now that Lord Parker and his daughters are home.”

Max didn’t answer, but Elizabeth knew where the well was and turned toward it. Sweaty and grimy from a long workout, after a day spent mucking out the stables, he was looking forward to some cool water. With Michael satisfied for the evening, Max peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and draped it on the edge of the well before cranking up a bucketful of cool water for himself. He set the bucket of water down on the ground and squatted over it to scrub the dirt and dried blood from his hands and arms. He examined his knuckles and found nary a scar to show where the cut he’d gotten had been located. Healing is a very nice ability, Max mused. He then scrubbed his face, and poured out the rest of the now dirty water on the ground.

Returning to the well, he put the bucket back on the rope and cranked it down into the water before pulling up another bucket of clean, cool water. He planned on using this bucket to dump over his head, chest, and back to try and rinse off at least some of the accumulated sweat and grime before heading inside. He heard footfalls behind him, and said, “I’ll be with you in just a minute, Sir Michael,” as he poured the bucket on his chest, up over the top of his head and then down his back. Turning toward the sound he’d heard a few seconds ago, Max looked up expecting to see Michael, and was stunned to see it was Elizabeth.

She had just come around a corner and was surprised, too. Her first sight was of water cascading down a heavily muscled male back before drenching the top of his trousers. When the man turned, she saw it was Max, complete with wet, tousled brown hair and a glistening, exquisitely chiseled chest. Oh…my…God!

Max saw Elizabeth in her funereal black dress, and his first thought was: Who died? That moment was fleeting though, as he took in not just her unrivaled beauty, but the way she seemed to glow as she stood there dry washing her hands. He realized then that she had come to see him, she was smiling, she was happy, and…and…and…

…and that’s when rational thought stopped for Max. His eyes met hers and he reveled in the simple fact that she was here, with him.

Elizabeth had a brief difficulty breathing just after catching sight of his wet hair and bare, wet, muscular…and bare chest. Yes, definitely have to say bare twice! Elizabeth thought. Just as she was finding herself having decidedly unladylike thoughts, her eyes traveled back up to Max’s face and were caught by his, and…

…that’s when she quit thinking also. She felt like she was all of ten years old and had just noticed for the first time that boys were different and that different was good.

The young couple just stood there staring at each other, unwilling, or unable, to break their eye contact. They might have stood there all night, except Michael had a clean shirt for Max in his hands and had come looking for him. Rounding a different corner from the one Elizabeth had come around, he stood there watching the two of them making googly eyes at each other from only a few feet away. He tried clearing his throat to get someone to notice him, but to no avail.

Finally, Michael threw the clean shirt and hit Max in the face. “Squire! I strongly suggest you quit eyeing the lady and spend your time getting dressed. You are a disgrace for being half naked in a lady’s presence.”

That made both Max and Elizabeth jump, and while a redfaced Max tried to stuff himself into his shirt, Elizabeth smiled briefly at Michael and headed into the manor, forgetting all about telling the squire about his new duty.

“Damn it, Zan!” Michael said when Elizabeth was gone. “You know she’s off limits. Quit trying to piss off her old man.”

“I don’t think she’s off limits any more, Sir Michael.”

“Why the Hell not?”

Remembering the way she‘d run from him at breakfast, Max said, “She came out here, looking for me…and she was smiling.”