John Flanagan: The Royal Ranger

“Paperwork, reports, organisation, sitting behind a desk listening to everyone’s complaints and problems. Can you see me doing that?” he had said to Pauline at the time.

His wife had smiled, looking at his severe expression. “I don’t believe I can,” she had agreed.

So the position was offered to Gilan, much to his surprise. He believed he was far too young for the job. But the appointment had been greeted with unanimous approval by his peers. Gilan was, along with Will Treaty, one of the most highly regarded of the younger men in the Corps—and one of the most widely experienced, particularly in terms of international affairs. Gilan had travelled more widely, and seen more action, than most Rangers.

And he was used to being close to the corridors of power. His father was the Kingdom’s Battlemaster and Gilan had a close personal relationship with Princess Cassandra and Sir Horace, the foremost knight of the Kingdom. Even more in his favour, in the eyes of the other Rangers, he had been mentored in his early days by Halt himself.

Will might have been considered for the job, although he was younger than Gilan. But while he and Halt were highly respected, even revered, as individuals, it was widely recognised that they preferred to act independently and had a penchant for bending the rules when they saw fit. Gilan, on the other hand, was more disciplined and organised, and more suited to the task of commanding and controlling an elite and disparate group like the fifty Rangers of Araluen.

“Do you suppose he’s going to ask you to go on another mission?” Pauline asked, after they had ridden for a few minutes in silence. From time to time, even though he was retired, Halt agreed to undertake missions for Gilan.

Halt considered the question now, but shook his head.

“He would have said so in his letter,” he replied. “He wouldn’t ask me to come all this way if there was a chance that I’d say no. Besides, if he wanted me to go on a mission, why would he ask you to come to Castle Araluen? I get the feeling it’s something personal.”

“You don’t suppose Jenny’s finally agreed to marry him?” Pauline said with a smile. It had been another surprise in the past few years when Jenny had decided that she had no wish to uproot herself and her thriving restaurant business from Redmont and follow Gilan to Castle Araluen. She loved him, they all knew. But she wanted to retain her individuality and her career.

“We’ll do it one day,” Jenny had told Gilan. “But at the moment you’re either completely tied up with Ranger business or away on a mission somewhere. I’ve no wish to be the Commandant’s wife.”

Gilan had been a little stung by her frank words. “What if I meet someone else?” he had said, somewhat archly.

Jenny had shrugged. “Then you’re free to do as you please. But you won’t meet anyone as good as me.”

She had been right. So they maintained their long-distance relationship, with Gilan taking any opportunity he could find to visit Redmont Fief and spend time with her. Each time they saw each other, he renewed his offer of marriage. And she renewed her postponement.

“I don’t think so,” Halt replied now to Pauline’s question. “You know Jenny. If she’d decided to marry him, she would have been bubbling over with excitement.”

“True,” Pauline agreed. She sighed quietly. “D’you think we set them all a bad example, waiting as long as we did?”

“I don’t think it was a bad example,” Halt told her. “Besides, the waiting kept you keen.”

She twisted in her saddle to look at him. It was a long, hard look, and Halt realised that he would pay for that sally. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow. But one day—probably when he least expected it. Still, it would be worth it. He rarely scored a point in verbal battles with his wife. She had a lifetime of practice in the Diplomatic Service.

They were close to the drawbridge now. It was lowered, as was the custom during daylight hours. Two sentries stood guard at the outer end. They came to attention and saluted the pair of riders. There was no need for Halt and Pauline to identify themselves. Their arrival was expected and they were widely recognised throughout the Kingdom, and particularly here in the capital.

“Ranger Halt, Lady Pauline,” said the more senior of the two. “Welcome to Castle Araluen.”

He gestured to them to ride past, stepping aside to accentuate the invitation.

Halt nodded to the two men.

Pauline favoured the senior sentry with a beaming smile.

“Thank you, Corporal.” She leaned forward, looking more closely at the other man. “And is that you, Malcolm Landers? I recall you helped me with my horse last time I visited Araluen.”

The man’s homely face broke into a delighted smile. “True enough, my lady. He cast a shoe, as I remember.”

Halt shook his head slightly. His wife’s ability to remember names and faces, even those of ordinary soldiers and men at arms, was a source of wonder to him. More of that diplomat training, he thought. Then he corrected himself. No, Pauline was genuinely interested in people. She liked people and she never forgot those who did her a good turn. He realised that her simple act of recognition and remembrance had won her a devoted follower. Malcolm Landers would now do anything for her.

Of course , he said silently to his horse, being a stunning beauty helps in these matters as well.

Not something that you’ll ever be accused of , Abelard replied.

“Stop talking to your horse, dear,” Pauline said as they clopped their way across the drawbridge and under the raised portcullis.

He wondered how she knew that’s what he’d been doing.

“I always know,” she said, and he wondered how she knew what he’d been wondering.

They were met in the courtyard by a young apprentice Ranger. Gilan had instituted a system whereby he “borrowed’ apprentices from their masters for two to three months, so they could assist him in his work as Commandant.

“It makes sense to give them a grounding in how the Corps is administered,” he had said to Halt. “Who knows? Some day one of these boys may end up as Commandant.”

Halt had rolled his eyes at the thought. “God help us,” he had said quietly.

“Good morning, Ranger Halt. Good morning, Lady Pauline,” the current Commandant-in-training greeted them. “My name is Kane and I’m assisting the Commandant. The Commandant sends his apologies. He’s addressing the final-year apprentice warriors at the Battleschool.” He looked nervously at the two visitors. “He suggested that I show you to your rooms and he’ll join you as soon as he’s free. He didn’t know exactly when you were due to arrive,” he added apologetically.

Pauline favoured him with a smile. “We understand. Gilan is a busy man, after all.”

Kane gestured to a stable hand who was standing ready nearby, shifting from one foot to another as he waited. “Can I have Murray take care of your horses?” he suggested.

Halt hesitated. Pauline knew he preferred to look after Abelard himself. But she also knew that the young stable hand would boast for years to come about the fact that he had tended to Halt’s horse.

“Let Murray do it, dear,” she said quietly.

Abelard tossed his head. I agree. He’ll do a better job than you. He’ll show me extra respect.

He’ll show you extra apples is what you mean.

“Don’t talk to your horse, dear. People are watching,” Pauline said quietly.

Halt turned a perplexed look towards her. “How do you know when I’m doing that?”

She smiled at him. “Your nose twitches,” she said.

A little bewildered, Halt allowed the stable boy to take Abelard’s bridle in one hand. He led Pauline’s horse with the other and headed for the stables. Halt and Pauline followed Kane to an upper floor of the keep tower, where a comfortable suite of rooms had been prepared for them. On the way, Kane kept glancing surreptitiously at the famous Ranger, fascinated by the fact that he kept staring down his nose and tweaking its tip between his forefinger and thumb.