Crestfallen, Pug asked, “Am I beyond help?”
Kulgan smiled reassuringly. “Not in the least. There have been cases of magicians having slow starts before. Your apprenticeship is for nine more years, remember. Don’t be put off by the failures of the last few months.
“By the way, would you care to learn to ride?”
Pug’s mood did a complete turnabout, and he cried, “Oh, yes! May I?”
“The Duke has decided that he would like a boy to ride with the Princess from time to time. His sons have many duties now that they are grown, and he feels you would be a good choice for when they are too busy to accompany her.”
Pug’s head was spinning. Not only was he to learn to ride, a skill limited to the nobility for the most part, but to be in the company of the Princess as well! “When do I start?”
“This very day. Morning chapel is almost done.” Being Firstday, those inclined went to devotions either in the Keep’s chapel, or in the small temple down in the town. The rest of the day was given to light work, only that needed to put food on the Duke’s table. The boys and girls might get an extra half day on Sixthday, but their elders rested only on Firstday “Go to Horsemaster Algon, he has been instructed by the Duke and will begin your lessons now.”
Without a further word, Pug leaped up and sped for the stables.
FOUR - Assault
Pug rode in silence.
His horse ambled along the bluffs that overlooked the sea. The warm breeze earned the scent of flowers, and to the east the trees of the forest swayed slowly. The summer sun caused a heat shimmer over the ocean. Above the waves, gulls could be seen hanging in the air, then diving to the water as they sought food. Overhead, large white clouds drifted.
Pug remembered this morning, as he watched the back of the Princess on her fine white palfrey. He had been kept waiting in the stables for nearly two hours before the Princess appeared with her father. The Duke had lectured Pug at length on his responsibility toward the lady of the castle Pug had stood mute throughout as the Duke repeated all of Horsemaster Algon’s instructions of the night before. The master of the stables had been instructing him for a week and judged him ready to ride with the Princess—if barely.
Pug had followed her out of the gate, still marveling at his unexpected fortune. He was exuberant, in spite of having spent the night tossing and then skipping breakfast.
Now his mood was changing from boyish adulation to outright irritation. The Princess refused to respond to any of his polite attempts at conversation, except to order him about. Her tone was imperious and rude, and she insisted on calling him “boy,” ignoring several courteous reminders that his name was Pug. She acted little like the poised young woman of the court now, and resembled nothing as much as a spoiled, petulant child.
He had felt awkward at first as he sat atop the old grey dray horse that had been judged sufficient for one of his skills. The mare had a calm nature and showed no inclination to move faster than absolutely necessary.
Pug wore his bright red tunic, the one that Kulgan had given to him, but still looked poorly attired next to the Princess. She was dressed in a simple but exquisite yellow riding dress trimmed in black, and a matching hat. Even sitting sidesaddle, Carline looked like one born to ride, while Pug felt as if he should be walking behind his mare with a plow between. Pug’s horse had an irritating tendency to want to stop every dozen feet to crop grass or nibble at shrubbery, ignoring Pug’s frantic kicks to the side, while the Princess’s excellently trained horse responded instantly to the slightest touch of her crop. She rode along in silence, ignoring the grunts of exertion from the boy behind, who attempted by force of will as much as horsemanship to keep his recalcitrant mount moving.
Pug felt the first stirring of hunger, his dreams of romance surrendering to his normal, fifteen-year-old’s appetite. As they rode, his thoughts turned more and more to the basket of lunch that hung from his saddle horn. After what seemed like an eternity to Pug, the Princess turned to him. “Boy, what is your craft?”
Startled by the question after the long silence, Pug stammered his reply. “I . . . I’m apprenticed to Master Kulgan.”
She fixed him with a gaze that would have suited her had an insect been found crawling across a dinner plate. “Oh You’re that boy.” Whatever brief spark of interest there had been went out, and she turned away from him. They rode awhile longer, then the Princess said, “Boy, we stop here.”
Pug pulled up his mare, and before he could reach the Princess’s side, she was nimbly down, not waiting for his hand as Master Algon had instructed him she would. She handed him the reins of her horse and walked to the edge of -the cliffs.
She stared out to sea for a minute, then, without looking at Pug, said, “Do you think I am beautiful?”