“Dragon, my boy.” Gervais adjusted his seat so that he could cross his legs off to one side, his wine goblet still cradled in one hand. “One day last autumn – late afternoon, I believe it was – I hunted with my men on the borders of Gris Fen. We gave chase to a boar, an ancient and grizzled old thing, but wily with age. It had killed two of my dogs already and maimed one of my men. But I was determined that I should not be put off, that I should not rest until I saw the creature’s head mounted on my wall. Such was not to be its fate, however.”
He paused and sipped his wine while Una and Felix both leaned forward, their faces eager. Gervais set his cup down. “As I came under the shadow of the swamp trees, intent upon the trail of this boar, my attention was suddenly arrested by a great and hideous roar!”
His eyes flared, and in the candlelight his face looked frightening and at the same time terribly fascinating. “A roar so vicious,” said he, “so bloodcurdling that I and my men froze in place, too frightened for the moment to go on.
“But that moment passed for me, and while my men yet stood in mortal terror, I cried, ‘Wait here!’ for I did not wish to put them at risk. I rode on ahead, following that gruesome bellowing, which sounded again and again at regular intervals. I told myself as I went that nothing in this world could make a sound so terrible save a dragon.”
Una nodded solemnly, her lips parted, and Prince Gervais flashed another smile her way before continuing.
“All afternoon I hunted deep into the swamp, on foot after a time, for my good horse could not carry me into the deeper mires. Snakes swam past my feet, poisonous and deadly, but I pressed on, determined to find and rid my lands of the beast, wherever it may be. The sound swelled to so mighty a roar that I knew the monster must be near.”
The warm lump of fur sitting at Una’s feet growled when Gervais said “monster.” Una nudged her cat, and he slipped out from under the table and skulked from the dining hall.
“At last,” Prince Gervais said, “I felt certain the beast was just beyond the next rise. I thought it odd that no smoke or flame or scorch marks came into view, but I comforted myself that it must be a young dragon . . . though I would have hunted it no matter the size! I drew my sword.” He picked up the knife beside his plate and raised it dramatically in the air. “With a mighty cry, I sprang over that final rise!”
He clanged his fist down on the table, causing those seated around him to jump and the glasses and silver to rattle. The courtiers at the next tables strained their ears to listen, waiting in breathless silence.
“Well, what did you find?” Felix demanded at last.
“Nothing.” Gervais flung up his hands and leaned back in his chair with a laugh. “There I stood, ankle-deep in swamp muck, surrounded by miles of nothing. Disgusted, I turned to go, when I heard that great bellow again. ‘GRAAAAAUP! GRAAAAAUP!’ ” He opened and closed his mouth comically. “I looked down at my feet, and what did I find?” He held up a fist. “A bullfrog, no bigger than my hand, puffed up like a child’s balloon!”
Nearly everyone burst into laughter, and Gervais, shaking his head, finished with, “Of course, I tried to step on it, but the fell beast hopped away, and all my heroic efforts were for nothing. No bounty for that dragon’s head!”
“Oh, but you were brave,” Una said and blushed at her audacity, quickly looking down at her plate. “I mean, well, you didn’t know what it was, yet you hunted it anyway. Alone too! That takes courage.” She boldly raised her eyes and received a wink that knocked the breath right out of her.
Gervais leaned back so that his chair balanced on two legs, and took up his wine goblet. “How about you, sir?” He turned to Aethelbald, who sat quietly cutting his meat. Una had forgotten he was there. “I have heard stories of your kingdom since I was a small boy no higher than my nursemaid’s knee. Surely you have had your adventures as well. Have you hunted dragons before?”
Aethelbald went on cutting. “I have,” he said.
“Indeed?” Gervais paused and sipped his wine, a line appearing over his brow. But he smoothed it out with another smile directed briefly toward Una. “Do tell, good Prince,” he said. “Is it a tale of might and daring comparable to my own?” He laughed.
Aethelbald paused and looked up from his plate, his fork halfway to his mouth. “No,” he said and took a bite.
“What? Come, man, there must be a story here somewhere. Did you lead a band of thirty strong? Did your sword taste dragon blood?” Gervais placed an elbow on the table and leaned closer to Aethelbald. “We’re all eager to hear the tale, Prince of Farthestshore.”
Gervais’s eyes were bright and intent upon the other prince, so Una tried to put an expression of interest on her own face. Inside, however, she wished Gervais would stop trying to draw conversation from a block of wood and go on talking.
Aethelbald glanced at Una. Candlelight cast strange shadows across his face. His expression, Una realized, was sad, deeply sad. She felt a pang in her heart and looked away. Is it my fault? she wondered. He knows I don’t want him. It is my choice. I have every right to fall in love with whomever I choose.