The Boy and The Man by Offer R (list of ebook readers .txt) 📕

If it was even possible, Aphrodite's increased still at her lover's gush of emotion. She then requested to receive a personal account of the events of the day that was already a legend in the kingdom, and was gladly obliged. For what man doesn't regale in relating the story of his own success?

The Boy told the story roughly as we know it to be, though from his point of view. His audience was hooked and reacted emotionally at every point where there was some foreseeable measure of danger involved, which the narrator rather enjoyed until the point of Dansalot's initial challenge. Naturally, none of the versions of the story that had been circulated in the kingdom contained much factual detail, and this was the first time Aphrodite had heard that Dansalot had proposed a duel with the prince. Her reaction was far more dramatic than before, and her terror in those moments must've exceeded what our prince had felt in real time in the darkest corners of his heart. She breathed in sharply and pouted in an alarming fashion, and the blood seemed to freeze in her veins. And this after it was all over and our prince was known to have commanded his Guard to safety and remain intact himself!

This egregious reaction brought back to The Boy's mind the thoughts that had disturbed him the night before but had been cleared away thanks to the morning's events and the exuberance that followed.

'The Prince loves her', he reminded himself, feeling his feet land back on solid ground. 'And I must find out her heart's true disposition.' He followed closely her every jerk of an eyebrow, twitch of the lips and variation in her breathing rate from the point of the prince's response to Dansalot's challenge until his own worming out from the duel against Hartlus. There could be no doubt that she was more concerned during the first part.

He delivered the rest of the story rather frivolously, as his role in the events had come to an end and struck the iron while it was hot.

"You seemed very concerned for the prince", he pointed out without giving away his intentions.

"Of course I was. To duel with Dansalot! They say there doesn't exist a man who has done it and not paid with his life."

"So they do. But you didn't look half as concerned for me."

"Do you take that as an insult, my love?"

"An insult! God forbid; your soul is too gentle to insult anyone. I was just wondering if my observation was correct."

"It was. But isn't it obvious? Wasn't it you who told me that between the two of you you are the much better swordsman?"

"That's not exactly what I said…" Our boy mumbled sheepishly.

"And you wouldn't have gone against Dansalot. I should think that if anything, this Hartlus was the one I should be concerned for."

'She has great confidence in me', The Boy thought contentedly. 'Much more confidence than I deserve.' But his suspicions had yet to be allayed, and under his growing reputation he felt some directness on his part wouldn't be inappropriate.

"It's come to my ears that- well, it couldn't be, but just the same I would like to have your response-"

"What is it? You may ask me anything."

"They say your heart has a certain special inclination to the prince."

"To our prince?" Aphrodite said, startled and flushing.

"To our prince, Captain of the King's Guard and something of an older brother to me." This time it wasn't necessary for our boy to scrutinize her reaction carefully, as even an outsider couldn't mistake the abashment in her demeanor. Her cheeks were now as red as the setting sun, and The Boy noted that their normal white was a much better fit.

"Wherever did you hear such an evil rumor?" She said uncomfortably.

"The source of the words doesn't matter; it's their content that counts. You have said that I can ask you anything. Well, my love, on the same token I invite you- no, beg of you- to tell me anything worth telling."

"I can't lie to you my love, but I would no sooner upset you."

"The only thing that would upset me is if you were to hide the tendencies of your heart for my sake."

"Even if they are something of the past and are of no concern of mine in the present?"

"Even so. Our present is nothing without our past."

"Very well then", Aphrodite said, her explicit and unambiguous words quite at odds with her general air of discomposure. She was obviously forcing herself into something she was reluctant to do. She even forced her regretful eyes to level at his. But she did it all for him. "It's true what they say. For many years after I'd first met the prince I felt a special affection for him. Though we seldom communicated directly, I quickly became very fond of him. For a long time I wished he felt the same and that somehow the Gods would be so kind as to let our hearts meet. I never thought I was worthy of him, of course, but you know how it's the way of young girls to dream of the impossible. It teaches us to accept what's real."

"That's not entirely surprising", The Boy chimed in. "Virtually every girl in the kingdom, even before his rising shine of late, dreams of having the arm of a prince like him crossed with hers-"

"No, it wasn't the same with me. It was never because he was a prince- not at all. He may as well have been a poor boy from the south- oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to imply-"

"All is well. Continue."

"In short, it wasn't his status or his clothes but his nature that enchanted me. He was humble, kind, never too flamboyant- but look at me, a silly girl telling you, the prince's own brother, of his wonderful nature! You know him ten times better than I."

"Perhaps. And now? What does your sweet heart tell you now?"

"Need you ask? My love is now for you and only you, my dearest."

"And the prince?"

"I've long ago accepted that it wasn't meant to be. It was merely a trick played on me by my heart. A cruel and tormenting trick, but nothing more."

"Do you ever look back in regret?"

"Heavens no! What would that bring but pain? I've hurt enough for that which will never be, now it's my time to rejoice at what is. In any case, you must promise me that you shall never repeat a word of what I've confided in you. Most of all to him!"

"Of course, my love. I wouldn't dream of it."

Finally the light returned to her face and the burden of her confession was relieved. The Boy, on the other hand, suffered an opposite effect. His brows were curled and his lips pursed, and his shoulders slouched as sometimes happens to one who's seen his optimism deceive him.

'I had higher hopes for this meeting', he thought somberly. 'She loves me- I'd never doubted that- but she has deep feelings for the prince as well. She only suppresses them because she doesn't know they are reciprocated.' He even had a terrible sense, which was formulated during those few candid moments in which she'd opened the darkest chambers of her heart to him, that her love for the prince had been purer and stronger than her current love for him.

This was the agonizing feeling with which he left her. There were preparations to be made for the evening's ceremony, and perhaps a little scheme to be plotted. Our boy had perhaps won a glaring victory in the valley, but he felt he'd suffered a terrible debacle on the battlefield of love. And even in his young age he knew that the second battlefield was easily the more fatal of the two.

Chapter 8

The ceremony, being a celebration of a military achievement, was held at the arena. Official ceremonies normally took place indoors and in any case were rarely held at the arena, but due to its symbolism as a place fit for combat it was the obvious chose in this case. Also it was the largest enclosed area in the kingdom, and there were very few people in the kingdom that didn't seize the opportunity to visit their heroes. Even the houses south of the forest were left empty that evening, news of the victory having traveled through the woods well before dusk had struck.

So not only the stone seats in the stands were packed, but the aisles and the narrow spaces between the rows of seats. Just about any space that could fit a human body was shared by two zealous spectators. In the haste of things there hadn't been time to adorn the scene with worthy decorations, but in fact it was for the better. It gave the setting a more authentic air, considering that true warriors aren't blinded by luxury and are attracted only by the prospect of honor and victory. It was one of those rare cases when the essence of the event struck such awe in everyone that no kind of embellishment was required. The only noticeable decorations were the golden trails left by the receding sun, and in this the sun did a great honor to the occasion.

At the center of the arena, where several years earlier the prince and The Boy had crossed swords as fresh acquaintances, stood the heroes of the day. Not just three, but a hundred of them. The Guard stood in perfect formation, impervious on the outside to the crowd's frenzy. But if there were some magical contraption that allowed us to see through this necessary façade, we would witness a far stronger whirl of emotions in these men's hearts than in the thousands around them. After all, a soldier can adhere strictly to certain codes and be prepared to sacrifice everything for the cause, but in the end every soldier is a man, given to the same temptations and weaknesses as are we all. Across from the Guard were two hundred first-rank horses, groomed to perfection and standing taller than the tallest man in the stands, the trophies of our men's victory. They were harnessed by the keepers of the royal stables.

For the first time in his long reign, our king stepped down from his royal seat at the very center of the northern arch of the stands to the central platform. It should be emphasized that, this being an arena, the platform was on a lower plane than the stands. Now, it is extremely unusual for a king to place himself at such a low point in front of thousands of ordinary men and women, but our king was willing to make this compromise so he could pay personal respect to his Guard. Our audience was very fond of this gesture, and since our king was aware and sensitive to the conscience of his people, he immediately knew he'd made a wise choice.

It was hard for him to speak over the delirious audience, but eventually he managed to impose silence and commence the ceremony. Our king wasn't a man of many words, and so his praise to the men was very pithy. It's a well-known rule that a secret weapon shouldn't be exposed at the very outset of a battle, and on the same token the king didn't begin with our three principal heroes but rather with the Guard as a whole. He spoke of their unity in the face of adversity and their commitment to each other. Indeed it was no small feat for the King's Guard that not a single man had fled the scene even when being slaughtered by the superior Capital army was a very real possibility.