John Flanagan: Oakleaf bearers

"Your:your majesty, the year of banishment still has three weeks to run," he said at last.

A low buzz of comment ran through the crowd. Will, unable to restrain himself, reacted in total surprise.

"Banishment? You were banished?" he said incredulously. "Why?" he said. The word hung in the air. Duncan shook his head, dismissing the matter.

"A few incautious words, that was all. He was drunk and we've all forgotten what he said and I forgive him, so for god's sake, man, come ashore."

But Halt remained where he was. "Your majesty, nothing would make me happier. But you must uphold the law," he said in a low voice. Then another speaker chimed in: Lord Anthony, the King's chamberlain.

"Halt is right, your majesty," he said. Anthony was a well-meaning man, but he tended to be a little pedantic when it came to interpreting the law. "After all, he did say you were the issue of an encounter between your father and a traveling hatcha-hatcha dancer."

There was a gasp of horror from the crowd.

Duncan, smiling thinly, said through gritted teeth: "Thank you for reminding us all, Anthony."

But then a peal of helpless laughter rang out and Princess Cassandra doubled over, hooting in a most unroyal fashion. Every eye turned to her, and slowly, she recovered enough to speak.

"I'm so sorry, everyone. But if you ever knew my grandmother, you'd understand why my grandfather might have been tempted! Grandma had a face like a robber's dog-and a temperament to match it!"

"Cassie!" her father said in his most disapproving tone, but she was holding her sides and laughing again and he couldn't keep a smile from forming at his lips. Then he felt Lord Anthony's disapproving stare on him and he recovered, nudging Cassandra until her laughter subsided into a series of choked snuffles and snorts. The laughter had been infectious, however, and it took a while for the assembled crowd to come to order. Throughout all this, Halt remained standing stiffly on the deck of the wolfship.

Duncan turned to his chamberlain and said, in his most reasoning tone: "Surely, Anthony, it's within my powers to pardon Halt for the last three weeks of his sentence?"

But Anthony frowned and shook his head. "It would be most irregular, your majesty," he said heavily. "Such a thing would set unfortunate precedents in law."

"King Duncan!" boomed Erak, and instantly he had the attention of everyone there. He realized he'd spoken a little more forcibly than he'd intended-he was still getting the hang of these formal occasions. Now he continued at a more moderate level.

"Perhaps I could request that you grant this pardon-as a gesture of goodwill to seal the treaty between our two countries?"

"Good thinking!" muttered Duncan. He turned quickly to Lord Anthony. "Well?" he said. The chamberlain pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was never his wish to deny the King what he wanted. He merely tried to do his duty and uphold the law. Now he saw a loophole and seized upon it gratefully.

"Such a request wouldn't set any precedents, your majesty," he said. "And this is a very special occasion, after all."

"So be it!" said Duncan quickly, and turned to face the figure on the wolfship. "All right, Halt, you're pardoned-so for god's sake, come ashore and let's have a drink to celebrate!"

Halt, tears in his eyes, set foot on Araluen soil once more, after eleven months and five days of banishment. As he came ashore to the renewed cheers of the crowd, those around him saw another man dressed in a gray-green cloak, who slipped forward and pressed something into his hand.

"You might be needing this again," said Crowley, Commandant of the Ranger Corps.

And when Halt looked down, he saw a thin chain in his hand, with a silver oakleaf insignia on it.

And then he knew he was really home.

Something was afoot, Will knew. After the first round of celebrations, and after Erak and his crew had set sail once more for Skandia, with the administrative details of the Araluen archery force deployment agreed for the following spring, there had been much consultation and discussion between the King and his advisers, including Halt, Crowley, Baron Arald and Sir Rodney.

During this period, Will and Horace were left pretty much at a loose end, although there was no shortage of admirers who would greet them as friends and sit spellbound as they told the story of their time in Skandia and their fierce battle against the Temujai. But even such adulation palled after a while.

Horace, now that his adventures as the Oakleaf Knight were over, had reverted to the plain white surcoat of a warrior apprentice.

Evanlyn, of course, had reverted to her true identity as Princess Cassandra. She was whisked away to the royal family's apartments in one of the towers of Castle Araluen, and whenever Will saw her, she was surrounded by a retinue of knights and ladies-in-waiting. She was also, he realized, a beautiful young woman, immaculately dressed and at ease among the young nobles and ladies who surrounded her.

Saddened, he felt the distance between them growing wider as he came to terms with the fact that his companion through so many adventures and dangers was, in reality, the highest-born woman in the kingdom, whereas he was the orphan child of a sergeant in the army and his farm girl wife. On those increasingly rare occasions when he did speak to Cassandra, he became awkward and stilted. He was tongue-tied in her presence and tended to mumble formulaic replies to her attempts at conversation.

His reaction frustrated and infuriated Cassandra. She was making a genuine attempt to restore their friendship to its former basis, but she was too young to realize that all the trappings of royalty and wealth, things she took for granted and gave no account to, could only serve to distance Will from her.

"Doesn't he see that I'm the same person I always was?" she asked her mirror in frustration. But, in fact, she wasn't. Evanlyn had been a frightened girl, her life at constant risk, reliant for months on the wits and courage of her young companion to keep her safe. Then she in turn had become the savior, the one who nursed a confused, frightened boy back to health.

Cassandra, on the other hand, was a beautiful, perfectly groomed princess, whose station in life was so far above Will's as to be unattainable. One day, he realized, she would rule as Queen, in her father's place. It wasn't her personality that had changed. It was her position. And both she and Will were too young and inexperienced to overcome the inevitable strain that such a social gulf put upon their relationship.

Oddly enough, at the same time, she found herself becoming more closely aligned to Horace. Accustomed to the formality of life as an apprentice knight and the strictures and protocols of court life at Castle Redmont, Horace was unfazed by Cassandra's rank. Of course, he deferred to her and treated her with respect. But then, he always had done so. Horace's simplistic and uncomplicated approach to life led him to accept things as they were and not seek complications. Evanlyn had been his friend. Now, Princess Cassandra was too. There were certain differences in the way he might be expected to approach her and address her, but this sort of formality had been part of his training.

When she finally broached the subject of the widening gap between herself and Will, Horace merely counseled patience.

"He'll get used to the way things are," he told her. "He's a Ranger, after all, and they're sort of:different:in their ways. Give him time to adjust."

So Cassandra bided her time. But Horace's comment about Rangers stayed with her and she determined to do something about that situation.

And there was, she knew, a perfect opportunity for that in the very near future.

Duncan had declared a formal banquet to celebrate the safe return of his only daughter, and invitations had been carried to the fifty baronies in the kingdom. It would be a massive event.