At that moment the Master of Ceremonies struck the floor with the iron-shod heel of his staff of office. “My lords, ladies and gentlemen, the King!’’
All eyes turned to the archway that led from the royal apartments, and there, sweeping into the hall, was King Carol the Sixth. A middle-aged man who still looked as fit as he had when twenty-five, the King escorted a plump but pleasant-looking woman wearing a small crown. “The Queen and the Royal Family!” announced the Master of Ceremonies.
Everyone bowed, and the King said, “It is our pleasure that you return to the festivities. We are informal tonight!’’
A light round of applause greeted this message, and everyone attempted to return to their previous activities.
Tal said to Quincy, “Have you attended one of these before?’’
“Yes, but not this sort of informal gathering. I hear that so many are in attendance for the tournament that there aren’t enough chairs in the palace to enable everyone to sit down, even if there was a table big enough to accommodate everyone. So, instead we have this buffet, and one in the next hall, and the hall beyond that.’’
Tal nodded. “I find myself feeling far less honored by my invitation than I did a minute ago, friend Quincy.’’
The man laughed. “Don’t feel slighted. For every one of us who has been invited, there are three outside the gates wishing they could be inside. I am here only because I’ve traded with the royal purchasing agent for twenty years and have come to the competition before. This will be my third tournament. You are among the favorites to win the golden sword, Tal, and as such, you would certainly be invited to attend. Expect a few words from the King himself before the night is out.’’
“I don’t know what to say,” Tal replied.
“Say little, laugh at his jokes, and agree to anything he proposes. That’s the way to deal with kings.’’
“Thank you for the advice.’’
They parted company, and Tal drifted through the three halls, saying hello to those he knew and nodding to anyone who nodded at him first. After two hours, a page sought him out, asking, “Sir, are you Squire Tal Hawkins?’’
“Yes,” he answered.
“The King commands your attendance, sir. Follow me, please.’’
The boy led him back to the center of the three halls, where the King was standing in the corner with Queen Gertrude and other family members, a boy of no more than thirteen who must be Prince Constantine, and two other boys and a girl. The younger children looked bored, but stood quietly, clearly on their best behavior.
The page spoke quietly into the ear of a servant, who in turn spoke in the ear of the Master of Ceremonies. The Master of Ceremonies nodded curtly in Tal’s direction, then said, “Your Majesty, may I present Talwin Hawkins, Squire of Morgan River and Bellcastle, Baronet of Silverlake.”
Tal executed his most courtly bow and kept silent. He knew better than to speak before the King.
King Carol smiled. “I’ve heard of you, young sir. They say the smart money is wagered on you to win our tournament.”
“Your Majesty is kind,” said Tal. “I would be fortunate indeed to prevail among all the master swordsmen who are coming to compete.’’
“You’re being modest,” said the King with a laugh. “I hear things. There are no secrets in the Masters’ Court.’’
“Your majesty,” said Tal, “that I can readily believe.’’
The King’s smile broadened. Then he said, “Ah, here comes one now who will seek to prevent you from winning the golden blade.’’
Tal turned and saw a party of men approaching. The smile on his face froze as the King said, “Squire Talwin, may I present to you our cousin, Kaspar, Duke of Olasko.’’
The leading man was burly across the shoulders but narrow in the waist, and Tal could see that he was both powerful and dangerous. His face was moon-round, but his chin jutted forward, and his dark eyes were narrow and focused, as if he were stalking prey. His chin sported a still-dark beard, but his upper lip was shaved, and his mouth was curled into a smile that was almost a smirk. “So, this is the young lad who is going to prevent my man from winning?” He turned to the man on his left, who was wearing a dress uniform, and said, “Majesty, this is Lieutenant Campaneal, the finest swordsman in my duchy and, I wager, the man who will win the tourney.” With a laugh, he added, “And when I say wager, I mean heavily.’’
The King laughed. Tal nodded a greeting to the Duke and the Lieutenant. After a moment the Duke of Olasko said, “Squire, you are staring. Do you know one another?’’