John Flanagan: Oakleaf bearers

"I have," said a quiet voice from behind him, and the three men looked up in some surprise. Evanlyn, slipping away from the enthusiastic toasting and tributes, had been an interested audience to their conversation for the past few minutes.

"As Princess Royal of Araluen, I have authority to sign on my father's behalf," she told them, and Halt heaved an unseen sigh of relief.

"I think it's best if we do it that way," he said. "After all, the princess does outrank me, just a little."

W OLFWIND FOLLOWED THE R IVER S EMATH ALL THE WAY FROM the Narrow Sea to Castle Araluen itself. It was an astounding sight for the locals, to see a wolfship gliding, unmolested and peaceful, past their fields and villages, so far inland. The many river forts and strongpoints, which would normally have denied such progress to a Skandian ship, now deferred to the fact that Princess Cassandra's personal standard, a stooping red hawk, flew from the masthead. A message had been sent ahead of the wolfship's progress to make sure that local commanders recognized the standard and the fact that the voyagers traveled upriver in peace.

It was also something of a novelty for Erak and his crew.

Finally, they rounded the last bend in the river and there before them were the soaring spires and turrets of Castle Araluen. Erak drew breath in wonder at the sight of it. Halt, watching him, was sure that, as well as the sheer admiration the castle inspired, Erak's old plundering instincts were at work, estimating just how much treasure the castle could contain. He stepped close to the Oberjarl and said softly:

"You'd never make it past the moat."

Erak started in surprise and looked at the Ranger.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" he asked. Halt raised an eyebrow.

"You're a Skandian," he said.

There was a landing stage jutting out into the river, bedecked with flags and bunting. And a large crowd was awaiting their arrival. At the sight of the wolfship, they began sounding horns and cheering.

"That's a first," Erak said mildly, bringing a grin to Halt's face.

"And there's another," he said, pointing discreetly to a tall, bearded figure standing a little way back from the landing stage, surrounded by an expensively dressed retinue of knights and ladies. "That's the King himself, come down to welcome you, Erak."

"More likely he's here for his daughter," the Skandian replied. But Halt noticed that he did look a little pleased with himself.

Evanlyn had seen the tall man now and was standing in the prow of the wolfship, waving excitedly. The cheers from the shore redoubled at the sight of her and now Duncan was leading the way down the landing stage, lengthening his stride so that he was almost running, not content to stand back and preserve his royal dignity.

"Oars!" called Erak, and the rowers raised their oars, dripping, from the water as the wolfship glided smoothly alongside the landing stage.

The Skandian crew passed mooring lines to those on shore, the two parties regarding each other with deep interest. It was the first time in memory that Araluens and Skandians had been face-to-face without weapons in their hands. Will, his face alight with the joy of the moment, leapt onto the wolfship's railing as Evanlyn hurried to the entry port in the ship's waist. She and her father, their hearts too full for words, simply smiled at each other over the decreasing gap as the line handlers hauled the ship in to the landing stage. Then the wickerwork fenders bumped and groaned and the ship was fast alongside. Svengal, grinning broadly at her, unlatched the entry port in the ship's rail and she leapt into her father's arms, burying her face in his chest.

"Dad!" she cried once, her voice muffled by his shirt and by the sobs that welled up in her throat.

"Cassie!" he murmured-his pet name for her from when she was a toddler-and the cheering intensified. Duncan was a popular king and the people knew how much pain the loss of his daughter had caused him. Even the Skandians were grinning at the scene.

In the midst of all that joy and celebration, only Halt stood apart. His face was a mask of pain and misery and he remained unobtrusively by the steering oar at the stern of the ship as the others surged forward to the waist.

Duncan and Evanlyn-or Cassandra, as her father knew her-stood in each other's embrace, oblivious to those around them. Will, scanning the crowd, saw a heavily built form in the ranks behind the King: a middle-aged man who was waving enthusiastically at him, shouting his name.

"Will! Welcome home, boy! Welcome home!"

For a moment, Will was puzzled, then he recognized Baron Arald-a man who for years had been a stern-faced figure of authority. Now here he was, waving and yelling like a schoolboy on holiday. Will dropped lightly to the planks of the landing stage and made his way through the crowds of well-wishers to the Baron. He began to make a formal bow when the Baron grabbed his hand and started pumping it enthusiastically.

"Never mind that! Welcome home, lad! And well done! Well done! My god, I thought we'd never see you again! Wasn't that right, Rodney?"

He spoke this last to the mail-clad knight beside him and Will recognized Sir Rodney, head of the Battleschool at Castle Redmont. He realized that the knight was anxiously scanning the faces on the deck of the wolfship.

"Yes, yes, my lord," he agreed distractedly. Then he seized Will's other arm and said urgently, "Will, I thought Horace was with you. Don't tell me something's happened to him?"

Puzzled, Will looked to where Horace was shaking hands with the Skandian crew, farewelling friends among them before he came ashore.

"That's him there." He pointed Horace out for Sir Rodney, and had the satisfaction of seeing the knight's jaw drop in surprise.

"My god! He's turned into a giant!" he gasped. Then Horace recognized his mentor and marched briskly through the crowd, coming to attention and saluting, his fist to his right breast.

"Apprentice Horace reporting, Battlemaster. Permission to return to duty, sir?" he said crisply.

Coming to attention himself, Rodney returned the salute.

"Permission granted, apprentice."

Then, formalities over, he seized the muscular apprentice in a bear hug and danced him around a few undignified steps, all the while crying:

"Damn me, boy, but you've done us all proud! And when the devil did you get so tall?"

Once again, the crowd cheered with delight. Then, all at once, a silence fell over them and Will turned to see the reason. Erak Starfollower, Oberjarl of the Skandians, was stepping ashore.

Instinctively, those nearest him drew back a little. Old habits died hard. Will, not wishing to see his friend insulted, started forward impulsively, but there was one other in the crowd who was quicker off the mark. Duncan, King of Araluen, stepped forward to greet his Skandian counterpart, his hand extended in friendship.

"Welcome to Araluen, Oberjarl," he said. "And thank you for bringing my daughter safely home." And with that, the two leaders shook hands.

Then the cheering started again, this time for Erak and his crew so that the Skandians looked about them with delight. And that, thought Will, was going to make it a little harder for them to raid here again in the years to come. Duncan let the cheering go on for a little while, then held up his hand for silence. He scanned the faces on the dock. Then, not seeing the one he looked for, he let his gaze switch to the wolfship.

"Halt," he said softly, finally seeing him, wrapped as ever in his Ranger's cloak and standing alone by the great steering oar. The King held out a hand and gestured to the dock.

"Come ashore, Halt. You're home."

But Halt stood awkwardly, unable to mask the sadness that he felt. His voice broke as he began to speak, and he gathered himself and started again.