John Flanagan: Oakleaf bearers

It took a month for the invited guests to assemble, and then the immense dining hall in Castle Araluen saw an evening unrivaled since Duncan's coronation, twenty years prior.

The feasting went on for hours, with the castle servants laboring under trays of roasted meat, huge savory pastries, steaming fresh vegetables and confectioneries designed to dazzle the eyes as much as the taste. Master Chubb, the Kitchenmaster at Castle Redmont and one of the finest chefs in the kingdom, had traveled to the capital to oversee the affair. He stood in the kitchen doorway, watching in satisfaction as the nobles and their ladies devoured and destroyed the fruits of the kitchen staff's labors for the past week, and idly cracking his ladle on the head of any unwary waiter or kitchen worker who came within reach.

"Not bad, not bad," he muttered to himself, then directed another servant to take yet another special dish for the enjoyment of "young Ranger Will," as he termed him.

Eventually, the massive feast was over and the entertainment was due to begin. The King's harper was nervously tuning his strings-the heat of the packed dining hall had caused them to stretch unevenly-and mentally reviewing the lyrics to the heroic ode he had written, celebrating the rescue of the Princess Royal from the jaws of death by three of the kingdom's worthiest heroes. He was still wishing that he had managed a better rhyme for "Halt." The best he had come up with so far was to affirm that he was a man "well worth his salt," which seemed, in the face of things, to be underselling the value of the legendary Ranger.

Before he was called upon, however, King Duncan rose from his seat to address the huge crowd. As ever, the vigilant Lord Anthony was on hand, and at his monarch's signal, he pounded his steel-shod staff on the flagstones of the dining hall.

"Silence before the King!" he bellowed, and instantly, the babble of talk and laughter in the huge room fell away to nothing. All eyes turned expectantly to the top table.

"My lords and ladies," Duncan began, his deep voice carrying seemingly without effort to every corner of the hall, "this occasion is one of great pleasure for me. For a start, we are here to celebrate the safe return of my daughter, Princess Cassandra-an eventuality that brings me more joy than you could possibly comprehend."

The hall rang with cries of "Hear! Hear!" and enthusiastic applause.

"The other source of pleasure to me tonight is the opportunity to reward those who were responsible for her safe return."

This time, the applause was louder and more prolonged. The audience was delighted to see Cassandra safely back with her father. But they knew the main business of the evening was the rewarding of the three companions who had brought her there.

"First," said Duncan, "would the Ranger Halt please step forward."

There was a murmur of interest in the crowd as the slightly built figure, for once without the anonymity of his gray-and-green cloak, stood before the King. Several of those at the rear of the hall stood to get a better view. Halt's reputation was known throughout the kingdom, but relatively few of those present had ever seen him in the flesh. That was due in no small part to the Ranger predilection for secrecy, of course. Now there were more than a few expressions of surprise at the legendary Ranger's diminutive size. Most of those present had formed a mental picture of a longbow-wielding hero of majestic build who stood just under two meters high.

Now, he bowed his head to the King. Not for the first time, Duncan found himself studying the Ranger's shaggy, uneven haircut. It had obviously been recently trimmed in honor of the event, but Duncan couldn't help grinning. Halt had been at Castle Araluen for over a month, surrounded by servants, valets and, above all, skilled barbers. Yet apparently, he still chose to cut his own hair with his saxe knife. Duncan realized the crowd was waiting while he appraised Halt's tonsorial efforts. He gathered his thoughts and continued.

"Halt has already stated that his restoration to the ranks of the Ranger Corps is sufficient reward," Duncan said, and once again there was a murmur of surprise.

"As on so many occasions before this, I stand in debt of one of my most loyal officers and I accede to his wishes in this matter. Halt, I owe you more than any King ever owed a man. I will never forget all you have done."

And at that, Halt inclined his head once more and slipped back to his seat, moving so quickly and unobtrusively that most of those present didn't realize he was gone, and their startled applause died stillborn.

"Next," Duncan said, raising his voice slightly to still the buzz of conversation that had broken out, "let the warrior apprentice Horace stand forward."

Will slapped his friend on the back as Horace, an apprehensive look on his face, rose from his seat and moved forward to stand at attention before the King. The crowd waited expectantly.

"Horace," Duncan began, straight-faced but with a hint of laughter in his eyes, "it has come to our attention that you traveled throughout Gallica in the guise of a fully qualified knight:" He made a show of consulting a note on the table before him, then added, "The Chevalier de Feuille du Chene -the Oakleaf Knight."

Horace gulped nervously. He knew, of course, that the tale of his exploits had been told. But he had hoped that officialdom would turn a blind eye to the fact that he had no right to pose as a knight.

"Your majesty, I'm sorry:I sort of felt that it was necessary at the:"

He realized that Duncan was eyeing him coolly, one eyebrow raised, and then it dawned on him that he had committed a grave breach of etiquette by interrupting the King. Belatedly, he stopped, and came to attention once more as the King resumed.

"As you know, I'm sure, it is highly irregular for an apprentice to bear an insignia or to pose as a knight, so now it is necessary that we rectify this irregularity." He paused.

Horace was about to say, "Yes sir," then realized he'd be interrupting again and said nothing.

Duncan continued. "I've conferred with your Baron, your Battlemaster and the Ranger Halt, and we all agree that the best solution is to regularize the situation."

Horace wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't sound good. Duncan made a signal and Horace heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. Glancing sideways, he saw Battlemaster Rodney coming to a stop beside him, holding a sword and shield before him. In a daze, Horace saw the device on the shield-a green oakleaf on a field of white. He watched in awe as Duncan stepped down from his dais, took the sword and touched him lightly on the shoulder with it.

"Kneel," Rodney hissed out of the corner of his mouth, and Horace did so, then heard the next words ringing in his ears.

"Arise, Sir Horace, Knight of the Oakleaf, and ensign in the Royal Guard of Araluen."

This caused bedlam in the crowd. It was virtually unheard of for an apprentice to be knighted in his second year and then to be appointed as an officer in the Royal Guard-the elite force who garrisoned Castle Araluen. The nobles and their ladies went wild with delight.

"Get up," Rodney hissed again. Slowly, a huge grin spreading over his face, Horace rose and took the sword from the King's hand.

"Well done, Horace," the King said quietly. "You've more than earned it."

Then he shook the hand of his newest knight and indicated that he might return to his seat. Horace did so, the faces around him in a blur. He saw only the huge, delighted grin on Will's face as his friend pounded him on the back in congratulation. Then the crowd was hushed again and this time both boys heard the King's voice:

"Would the Ranger apprentice Will stand forward."

Even though he had assumed that such a thing might happen, Will was caught unprepared. He hurried from his seat, stumbling as he went, and finally regained his balance to stand before the King.