mighty waves rose up where the boat had been and crashed down in a deafening roar.
The roar was echoed from the enemy ship, as the sailors threw their hats into the air and cheered hoarsely. Then, because it was war, and because war, no matter how absurd, had its own rules, they lowered the lifeboats and started to cull the waves for their enemies.
In the cold water, Renaldo waited, resigned, as the boats approached. He had been thrown clear by the explosion, so he was relatively unscathed. Even the mouse in his pocket still lived. Half drowned, spitting and coughing, the mouse sat on Renaldo's shoulder and cursed as fluently as any sailor.
"Now will you tell them your true identity?” the mouse asked with a sneeze. “Have you had your fill of fighting?"
Renaldo clutched the spar tightly, his knuckles whitening with the effort. “That's not the reason I said nothing. I have no stomach for fighting, I hate it. But...."
"But what? Why won't you tell them your name and let them ransom you so you can go home?"
But he wouldn't, and he didn't tell the mouse the real reason. He'd become friends with some of the other soldiers. They'd talked of important things, like the color of their wives’ eyes, or the height of corn at this time of year. Some of his comrades had fretted, wondering if their children would forget them, if their farms were being cared for in their absence, or if their shops still opened in the morning and did business all day long.
Little pieces of life had been offered to him. Hopes, fears, dreams, and jokes had been traded in that ship. The igniter had been a lad named Joffrey. He'd been the eldest of thirteen children, and the stories of his siblings’ antics had amused Renaldo, being alone with just Sylvain. Joff, as they'd called him, hadn't gone to school, but he knew more jokes by heart than anyone, and he'd never been without a smile. He'd miss Joffrey.
Even if they hated it, the other men had to fight. They couldn't claim a title or a kingdom and escape the war. Instead, they had to follow orders. Why was he different? He rested his forehead on the spar and wished his head would stop aching. Maybe that would help him make a decision. But in his heart, he knew what his decision would be. He was staying with his comrades.
Suddenly his head felt strangely light, and his fingers began to slip from the spar of wood.
"Hang on, there's a boat coming now.” The little mouse jumped up and down on Renaldo's shoulder and waved.
Renaldo's vision darkened. “Has night fallen?” he asked the mouse.
"No. Keep your eyes open. Oh Renaldo! I say, stay awake! Over here, over here! Help us! Over here!"
The mouse's shrill voice was the last thing Renaldo heard before he slipped into the icy water and sank.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eleven
The War of the Twin Princes
The search for Leonie had been going on for five days now. Each day, Sylvain rode in a different direction, but always came back to Sir Wulfe's castle at night. Sylvain lodged in the stables, in a small room above his horses’ stalls. In the evenings, he studied the maps the wizard had of the surrounding countryside, since he didn't know this kingdom very well.
The king of Querel was an ally of his father's, that much he knew. Right now, Querel was enmeshed in a nasty civil war which had started when the two crown princes had each laid claim to ruling the kingdom. Sylvain had heard of the war, who hadn't? But the results of the war had been tragic so far. Farms lay fallow, forest reclaimed fields, and a pall hung over the land.
Sylvain saw this as he rode out each day. At night, in the magician's dining room, he spoke to the wizard about it. “Forgive my ignorance, but isn't there any way to put an end to the war between the princes?"
The wizard shook his head. “The kingdom is divided. I have dealings only with the old king. He still rules this small part of the land, but his sons have taken over the rest. Each young man
The roar was echoed from the enemy ship, as the sailors threw their hats into the air and cheered hoarsely. Then, because it was war, and because war, no matter how absurd, had its own rules, they lowered the lifeboats and started to cull the waves for their enemies.
In the cold water, Renaldo waited, resigned, as the boats approached. He had been thrown clear by the explosion, so he was relatively unscathed. Even the mouse in his pocket still lived. Half drowned, spitting and coughing, the mouse sat on Renaldo's shoulder and cursed as fluently as any sailor.
"Now will you tell them your true identity?” the mouse asked with a sneeze. “Have you had your fill of fighting?"
Renaldo clutched the spar tightly, his knuckles whitening with the effort. “That's not the reason I said nothing. I have no stomach for fighting, I hate it. But...."
"But what? Why won't you tell them your name and let them ransom you so you can go home?"
But he wouldn't, and he didn't tell the mouse the real reason. He'd become friends with some of the other soldiers. They'd talked of important things, like the color of their wives’ eyes, or the height of corn at this time of year. Some of his comrades had fretted, wondering if their children would forget them, if their farms were being cared for in their absence, or if their shops still opened in the morning and did business all day long.
Little pieces of life had been offered to him. Hopes, fears, dreams, and jokes had been traded in that ship. The igniter had been a lad named Joffrey. He'd been the eldest of thirteen children, and the stories of his siblings’ antics had amused Renaldo, being alone with just Sylvain. Joff, as they'd called him, hadn't gone to school, but he knew more jokes by heart than anyone, and he'd never been without a smile. He'd miss Joffrey.
Even if they hated it, the other men had to fight. They couldn't claim a title or a kingdom and escape the war. Instead, they had to follow orders. Why was he different? He rested his forehead on the spar and wished his head would stop aching. Maybe that would help him make a decision. But in his heart, he knew what his decision would be. He was staying with his comrades.
Suddenly his head felt strangely light, and his fingers began to slip from the spar of wood.
"Hang on, there's a boat coming now.” The little mouse jumped up and down on Renaldo's shoulder and waved.
Renaldo's vision darkened. “Has night fallen?” he asked the mouse.
"No. Keep your eyes open. Oh Renaldo! I say, stay awake! Over here, over here! Help us! Over here!"
The mouse's shrill voice was the last thing Renaldo heard before he slipped into the icy water and sank.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eleven
The War of the Twin Princes
The search for Leonie had been going on for five days now. Each day, Sylvain rode in a different direction, but always came back to Sir Wulfe's castle at night. Sylvain lodged in the stables, in a small room above his horses’ stalls. In the evenings, he studied the maps the wizard had of the surrounding countryside, since he didn't know this kingdom very well.
The king of Querel was an ally of his father's, that much he knew. Right now, Querel was enmeshed in a nasty civil war which had started when the two crown princes had each laid claim to ruling the kingdom. Sylvain had heard of the war, who hadn't? But the results of the war had been tragic so far. Farms lay fallow, forest reclaimed fields, and a pall hung over the land.
Sylvain saw this as he rode out each day. At night, in the magician's dining room, he spoke to the wizard about it. “Forgive my ignorance, but isn't there any way to put an end to the war between the princes?"
The wizard shook his head. “The kingdom is divided. I have dealings only with the old king. He still rules this small part of the land, but his sons have taken over the rest. Each young man
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