Chapter Twenty-Two Part Two

“Sir?”

“I am actually Sir Etienne, knight of the realm in service of King Tristan.” He bowed slowly to Charlotte and then to Renee, who had finally stopped crying because she was so confused. “Francois, my brother, was killed while riding with the Prince’s party that day, and I have vowed to bring whoever murdered our good King, Prince, and my brother, to justice. But we have been barred from the palace and even the center of town… the lot of us, who were loyal in Court. Well, half of us here were. The rest are known robber bandits in the area we have aligned ourselves with in order to remain in the country instead of being forced to flee.”

“Sir Etienne, I do not mean to impugn your honor, but have you any proof of your identity?”

“I do, one moment. Friar, if you please?”

The small, round man now reached into a pouch at his belt and retrieved an item for the man. He handed it to Charlotte for her to examine.

“It’s my signet ring,” Sir Etienne replied, and he nodded toward Thomas. “Let your blacksmith friend examine it, if he cares to.”

“How did you know I’m a blacksmith?”

“You are known to some among the band we have been working with for your skill in the smithy.”

It occurred to Thomas that meant some of his usual customers at the shop had secondary means of raising funds for their families which he was unaware of, and wished to remain that way. He shook his head to clear it and tried to focus upon the ring as the man claiming to be Etienne came closer and held the torch so he could see.

“It appears the genuine thing, Charlotte.”

“So, then, Sir, I have no doubt you would act to carry out the orders of the Prince and the Queen herself, but my question to you is, will the men that you’ve assembled?” She motioned for him to come closer and Etienne approached. “The Prince is supposed to try, beginning in the morning, to gather all around him that he is able, but most of the men in our village have been jailed under the Duke’s new debtors’ law. And sadly, we were unable to free them as we’d hoped. There is still a chance they may be freed and follow behind us, but we can only go forward, and hope.”

“Too ambitious a plan. That sounds like Prince Tristan to me, all right.”

“I think you would—will—find him a changed man upon your next meeting, Sir. If in fact he recognizes you and validates your identity.”

“Julien is like a second brother to me. He and Francois were inseparable.” Etienne’s voice lowered to a whisper, and sorrow changed the angles of his fine face. “He will know me.”

“What did you call him?” Charlotte gasped.

“Julien. It is what he prefers to be called by family and closest friends. Since boyhood, and I should know, I remember him as a boy. I am fourteen years his senior.”

Charlotte looked at Thomas and nodded. Tears shone in her eyes, and Etienne grew concerned.

“Have I said something wrong, My Lady?”

“No. It’s just that’s what he asked me to call him, as I nursed his wounds.”

Etienne drew a deep breath and seemed to steady himself. “He is gravely injured, then?”

“Barely survived, and would not have, by his own word, if not for the bravery of your brother, Sir, and the quick thinking of my friend Thomas.”

Etienne looked down at the ground. “Whatever he has survived, he is still our future king, and I pledge my life to his safety, and that of the Queen, and his betrothed.” He nodded to Renee; clearly he had known all along who she was, but had not felt the need to say.

“Then we must ride, with all haste. Have you horses?”

“A few, but as I said, you have mine, My Lady.”

“We must ride two upon one horse, then, and any others who may accompany us should follow on foot with all due haste.”

“Where are we going?” Etienne asked, “I will send a man on ahead to help to spread any word Your Ladyship may wish, to aid us in our endeavors to prepare for the eventual company from the Duke’s guard.”

“We are going to St. Fleur,” Charlotte said, and Etienne shook his head.

“Of all the tiny corners of our kingdom, never would I have imagined the Prince could be hidden there.”

“Let us hope you are not the only one.” Charlotte moved to dismount her steed, but Etienne instead gestured for her to move back a little. “If the Lady does not object, I would like to ride my own horse.”

The horse responded instantly to Etienne’s touch and voice; it was clear the animal was his.

“Of course, sir. Before we depart, I will give you word to spread, as far and wide, as you can.”

“What is the word?”

“That Prince Tristan lives,” Charlotte declared, her voice wavering with emotion. “In hiding, somewhere in the countryside.”

* * *

Morning dawned upon the village of St. Fleur, and Walter and Julien watched the sun rise as the last of the fire in the hearth burnt down to embers.

The younger man turned toward the older, speaking for the first time in hours.

“Still, I await your answer, sir. May I have your daughter’s hand in marriage? I offer all I am, all I have, and all I will have as king, to share with her as my partner, my wife, and my queen.”

“Can you have her hand?” Walter said, and with a sigh he rose from his chair and moved to stir the fire. “I will tell you what, young Prince. I give my blessing for you to have my daughter’s hand and her heart...” He turned, a twinkle in his eye as he added, “If you can catch them.”

Julien grinned, for the first time since Walter had met him. The motion tugged painfully at the scars on the left side of his face, but he was too happy to care. For the first time in his life, he had chosen to try for something he wanted, all on his own, and he could only hope whatever her feelings may be now, that in the end, he would be able to win Charlotte over.

“I hear the sound of a horse,” Walter said. He peered out the window and saw the elderly blacksmith, Rowan, approaching quickly upon a horse he did not recognize. “You had better hide, Julien.”

Julien rose upon his crutch and moved into the other room as quickly as he could, leaning toward the window to listen.

“What is it, Rowan?” Walter asked. “Is everything all right with your animals?”

“It is not the animals brings me here,” Rowan huffed as he struggled to get down from the horse. “It is word, upon the wind, only just reaching my ears. I wondered if you’d heard anything about it, Walter?”

“Word?” Walter blinked innocently. “I have heard no word. What is it you hear, old friend?”

“That Prince Tristan lives,” Rowan said, the joy and hope in his words mixed with equal parts worry and fear. “That he is in hiding, somewhere, and the Duke will soon seek him out. We must find him, Walter. He must be protected.”

“Are there others in the village who have heard this?” Walter asked, still not giving Julien’s presence in his own home away.

“Word has spread like wildfire from town to town in the dark of night, and the word was sent to me with a message from Thomas that only I would understand, so I know it must be true.”

“What was the word from Thomas?”

“The word exactly matters not, but the message was clear.” Rowan wrung his gnarled hands. “We must get ready, in case the Duke’s search party finds its way here, to St. Fleur.” He looked at Walter sideways. “You don’t suppose the Prince could really be here, somewhere?”

Walter gave him a look to try to convey he must be dreaming, and old Rowan chuckled at his own perceived foolishness. “Of course not. How could anyone hide the Prince in a town this small? They’d have to be a magician!” He struggled to get back on his horse, and Walter helped him up.

“What will you do now, Rowan?”

“I will take into my confidence anyone I trust who is left in this little town who knows how to wield a sword,” Rowan said, turning his horse away and preparing to go. “After all, if anyone should know who that is, it’s the blacksmith.”

Then he was gone, and Walter hurried back into the house. Julien met him in the doorway.

“It has begun,” Julien said, standing as tall as he could.

Walter’s eyes turned red. “May God protect you, Your Highness, should your loyal subjects fail in their duty.”

“They will not fail,” Julien affirmed, patting the old man on the shoulder. “Just as you and your family have never failed me for a moment, Walter, I entrust my fate into the hands of my people.”