The contest ended as all the previous bouts had ended, with the Younger King’s knights prevailing. Only three were standing by the end, Robert, Ransom, and Devon himself. But they had all four flags in their hands, and the courtyard was full of moaning, prostrate bodies. Focused as he was on his own role, Ransom had barely noticed what was going on around him.
Devon ripped off his helmet, his face streaked with sweat, and his eyes blazing with triumph. He grinned and pounded Ransom on the shoulder with his fist in celebration. Ransom removed his own helmet and dropped it on the ground. His arms and shoulders were weary, the rush of the waterfall beginning to fade. But he was full of energy still, could have gone on even longer. The contest had not even begun to tax his full strength.
“The Fountain was with us again,” Devon crowed. He wiped his mouth on his arm, panting hard, but he grinned with pride and exuberance.
Prince Goff flung his helmet down on the ground in a rage and stormed off, cursing under his breath.
Ransom walked over to Prince Benedict, who sat glumly on the ground, the helmet next to him. He had long hair and a short beard that matched his father’s, except it had bits of gold and red to it. Benedict took pride in the fact that he’d never shaved so far, determined to grow a truly intimidating beard by the time he reached twenty. It was not like Devon’s goatee, meticulously trimmed by his barber.
When Ransom made it to the prince, he reached down to help him up.
Benedict glowered at him but grudgingly took his hand and rose.
“Did you know it was me?” Benedict asked darkly.
“What did you hope to gain by your deception?” Ransom asked, not answering the question.
“I’ve always wondered if you held back,” said Benedict. “During our fights in the training yard. If you treated me delicately because of who I am.”
Ransom wondered at the question. “And what do you think now?”
“Just answer me, man!” Benedict blurted. “Stop being the philosopher!”
“When you ask me to train you, I set out to do just that. I never hold back, my lord. It wouldn’t help you, and it would shame me if I did.”
Benedict swore vehemently. He glared at Ransom, his eyes shining with anger.
“That angers you?” Ransom asked in concern.
“I’m furious that I can’t beat you,” Benedict said. He kicked his helmet and sent it tumbling away. “I’m leaving for the Vexin, and I so wanted to humble you before I went.”
“You’re only sixteen, my lord,” Ransom said. “I’m sure you will someday. Keep practicing against better men.”
Devon approached the two of them, and the condescending look on his face was sure to rile Benedict even more. Devon was only a few fingers taller than Benedict, but in a brawl between the two, there was no doubt in Ransom’s mind who would win. Benedict looked like he’d worked a forge. He was naturally athletic, and he trained harder than anyone else in the castle, in Ransom’s opinion.
“Don’t say it,” Benedict growled, pointing an accusing finger at Devon.
“What? I was going to ask if you wanted to borrow Ransom for a season and take him with you. I see you do not, Brother.”
“Are you serious?” Benedict demanded.
“By the Fountain, no! The best knights should stay with their king.”
“It doesn’t gall you that he’s better than you?”
Ransom was grateful that Devon was more even-tempered than his brother. “Did not King Andrew have a knight that was better than him? Did it make him any less of a king?”
“Are you saying you believe those old legends?” Benedict scoffed. “You’re more of a fool than I thought.”
“I know you think me a fool. But we are brothers still. Let us not part ways breathing ill words. It was a bold move, I should say. Rushing my most powerful man all at once. Bold, but stupid. It’s fortunate none of you need a barber to mend a cut.” He wrapped his arm around Benedict’s neck and gave him a hug. “See me before you go,” he said in a low voice. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you. But take a bath first. How you stink!”
“I bathed last week,” Benedict said, showing affront before grinning in reply. He hugged Devon back. The brothers laughed and clapped each other on the back. Then Benedict looked at Ransom, his rage having melted like some of the ice in the yard. He thumped his chest in a knightly salute, and Ransom mirrored it.
Devon folded his arms, watching his brother go. “He wants you to knight him, you know,” he said.