“I shall sponsor him,” came a voice.
Everyone turned in the other direction, and there came a muffled gasp amongst the others.
Thor turned to see a knight, mounted on a horse, bedecked in the beautiful, gleaming armor and wearing all manner of weaponry on his belt. He positively shined—it was like looking at the sun. Thor could tell by his demeanor, his bearing, and by the markings on his helmet, that he was different than the others. He was a champion.
Thor recognized this knight. He had seen paintings of him, and had heard of his legend. Erec. He couldn’t believe it. He was the greatest knight in the Ring.
“But my lord, you already have a squire,” the general protested.
“Then I shall have two,” Erec answered, in a deep, confident voice.
A stunned silence pervaded the group.
“Then there is nothing left to say,” Kendrick said. “Thorgrin has a sponsor and a partner. The matter is resolved. He is now a member of the Legion.”
“But you have forgotten about me!” the King’s guard screamed, stepping forward. “None of this excuses the fact that the boy has struck a member of the King’s guard, and that he must be punished. Justice must be done!”
“Justice will be done,” Kendrick responded, steely. “But it will be at my discretion. Not yours.”
“But my liege, he must be put in the stocks! An example must be made of him!”
“If you keep up your talk, then you shall be the one going to the stocks,” Kendrick said back to the guard, glaring him down, steel in his voice.
Finally, the guard backed down; reluctantly, he turned and walked away, red-faced, glaring at Thor.
“Then it is official,” Kendrick called out in a loud voice. “Welcome, Thorgrin, to the King’s Legion!”
The crowd of knights and boys let out a cheer. They then turned away, back to their training.
Thor felt numb with shock. He could hardly believe it. He was now a member of the King’s Legion. It was like a dream.
Thor turned to Kendrick, more grateful to him than he could ever say. He had never had anyone in his life before who cared about him, who went out of his way to look out for him, to protect him. It was a funny feeling. He already felt closer to this man than to his own father.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Thor said. “I am deeply indebted to you.”
Kendrick smiled down. “Kendrick is my name. You shall get to know it well. I am the King’s eldest son. I admire your courage. You shall be a fine addition to this lot.”
Kendrick turned and hurried off, and as he did, the huge boy Thor had fought shuffled by.
“Watch your back,” the boy said. “We sleep in the same barracks, you know. And don’t think for a moment you’re safe.”
The boy turned and stormed off before Thor could respond; he had already made an enemy.
He was beginning to wonder what was in store for him here, when the King’s youngest son hurried over to him.
“Don’t mind him,” he said to Thor. “He’s always picking fights. I’m Reece.”
“Thank you,” Thor said, reaching out his hand, “for choosing me as your partner. I don’t know what I would have done without it.”
“I’m happy to choose anyone who stands up to that brute,” Reece said happily. “That was a nice fight.”
“Are you kidding?” Thor asked, wiping dried blood from his face and feeling his welt swell up. “He killed me.”
“But you didn’t give up,” Reece said. “Impressive. Any of the others of us would have just stayed down. And that was one hell of a spear throw. How did you learn to throw like that? We shall be partners for life!” He looked at Thor meaningfully as he shook his hand. “And friends, too. I can sense it.”
As Thor shook his hand, he couldn’t help but feel that he was making a lifelong friend.
Suddenly, he was poked from the side.
He spun and saw an older boy standing there, with pockmarked skin and a long and narrow face.
“I am Feithgold. Erec’s squire. You are now his second squire. Which means you answer to me. And we have a tournament in minutes. Are you going to just stand there when you been made squire to the most famous knight in the kingdom? Follow me! Quickly!”
Reece had already turned away, and Thor turned and hurried after the squire as he ran across the field. He had no idea where they were going—but he didn’t care. He was singing inside.
He had made it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gareth hurried across King’s court, dressed in his royal fineries, pushing his way amidst the masses who poured in from all directions for his sister’s wedding, and he fumed. He was still reeling from his encounter with his father. How was it possible that he was skipped over? That his father would not choose him as king? It made no sense. He was the firstborn legitimate son. That was the way it had always worked. He had always, from the time he was born, assumed he would reign—he had no reason to think otherwise.
It was unconscionable. Passing him over for a younger sibling—and a girl, no less. When word spread, he would be the laughingstock of the kingdom. As he walked, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him and he did not know how to catch his breath.
He stumbled his way with the masses towards the wedding ceremony of his elder sister. He looked about, saw the multitude of colored robes, the endless streams of people, all the different folk from all the different provinces. He hated being this close to commoners. This was the one time when the poor could mingle with the rich, the one time those savages from the Eastern Kingdom, from the far side of the Highlands, had been allowed in, too. Gareth still could hardly conceive his sister was being married off to one of them. It was a shrewd political move by his father, a pathetic attempt to make peace between the kingdoms.
Even stranger, somehow, his sister actually seemed to like this creature. Gareth could hardly conceive why. Knowing her, it was not the man she liked, but the title, the chance to be queen of her own province. She would get what she deserved: they were all savages, those on the other side of the Highlands. In Gareth’s mind, they lacked his civility, his refinery, his sophistication. It was not his problem. If his sister was happy, let her be married off. It was just one less sibling to have around that might stand in his way to the throne. In fact, the farther away she was, the better.
Not that any of this was his concern anymore. After today, he would never be king. Now, he would be relegated to being just another anonymous prince in his father’s kingdom. Now, he had no path to power; now he was doomed to a life of mediocrity.
His father had underestimated him—he always had. His father considered himself politically shrewd—but Gareth was much shrewder and always had been. For instance: for marrying Luanda to a McCloud, his father thought himself a master politician. But Gareth was more far-sighted than his father, was able to consider more of the ramifications, and was already looking one step farther. He knew where this would lead. Ultimately, this marriage would not appease the McClouds but embolden them. They were brutes, so they would see this peace offering not as a sign of strength, but of weakness. They would not care for a bond between the families, and as soon as his sister was taken away, Gareth felt certain they would plan an attack. It was all a ruse. He had tried to tell his father, but he would not listen.
Not that any of this was his concern anymore. After all, now he was just another prince, just another cog in the kingdom. Gareth positively burned at the thought of it, and hated his father at that moment with a hatred he never knew was possible. As he crammed in, shoulder to