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“Raoul just wants an excuse,” Jonathan explained. “He likes hitting Ralon.”
“Ralon didn’t make anyone else put his tack away?” Alex wanted to know. “You didn’t see anything strange?”
Alanna didn’t look up. “No.” It wasn’t strange, she excused her lie mentally. Ralon does things like that all the time.
The servants arrived, sending the boys off to bed. Jonathan returned to his room, frowning thoughtfully. Trouble was brewing between Ralon and the boy Alan, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop it.
His punishment didn’t keep him from the afternoon rides, so Ralon was with the boys at the swimming hole the next day. The weather was hot and damp. Most of the boys stripped down to their loincloths and leaped into the pool. Alanna sat under a shady tree, looking wistfully at her friends. She would have loved to join them.
Ralon planted himself in front of her. “Too good for us, Master Alan? Afraid to get in the same water with us?”
Alanna looked up. The others were suddenly quiet.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped.
“‘Leave me alone,’” he mocked, swinging his hips. “Too good to swim with us, Alan the Snot?”
“I don’t feel like swimming.” The others were watching her, wondering if she was a coward. He’ll kill me, she thought. I’m just a girl, and he’ll kill me.
Ralon grabbed her arm. “Into the water, page,” he gritted. “We’ll have some fun.”
Alanna rammed herself into Ralon’s stomach. The older boy yelped as he tumbled into the pool, hitting the water with a painful smack.
“Why, Ralon,” cried Raoul. “Let me help you up!” Seizing one of Ralon’s flailing arms, the bigger youth yanked Ralon’s legs from under him. Ralon sank to the bottom with Raoul on top of him. He struggled frantically, but Raoul was impossible to budge. When Ralon finally surfaced, he was half blind and three-quarters drowned. He glared at the wickedly grinning Raoul.
“Malven!” Alanna shouted. She was standing, her fists tight against her sides. “I don’t like to swim. Don’t try to get me in the water again! And don’t order me around, either! The next time you try it, I’ll break your face! D’you hear me?”
Jonathan put a hand on Ralon’s shoulder. “You heard Alan,” the Prince whispered. “Don’t forget.” He shoved Ralon under the water again.
Alanna returned to her seat. Ralon wouldn’t forget this, but there was no sense in worrying about trouble until it happened.
That evening she was serving Sir Myles when Ralon passed her. Under the noise of serving he whispered, “Part payment, snot,” and pinched her viciously.
Alanna dropped the plate she was holding, biting back a yell of pain. She cleaned up the mess, blinking away tears of rage, knowing she would catch it later from Duke Gareth.
“Everyone slips,” Myles told her kindly. “Uh—Alan—I feel a little tired. Would you be so good as to escort me to my chambers after the king rises?”
She nodded, puzzled. Myles had been drinking lightly this evening. Unless he was drunk, he never asked her to walk him to his rooms.
As she suspected, Myles didn’t need assistance. Once at his rooms, however, he stopped her as she turned to go. “A moment, Alan, if you please.”
Alanna took the seat he pointed to, wondering what he wanted.
The knight lit a branch of candles and put it on the table between her chair and his. He poured himself a glass of brandy, nodding to a bowl of fruit. “Help yourself. I’ll try not to keep you from your dinner too long.”
“Thank you, sir.” Alanna took an orange and began peeling it.
“Young Ralon is picking on you, isn’t he?”
Alanna froze. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Don’t be coy, Alan.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t hide something we’re both aware of. I see much of what goes on here. It’s one reason I drink so much. And I see Ralon bullying you when you’re alone or with the younger boys.”
Alanna shrugged. “I’m not a crybaby or a telltale.”
“Do you think you’ll lose the other boys’ respect if you say anything? Prince Jonathan would be the first to take your side.”
Alanna felt very uncomfortable. “I have to handle this myself.”
Myles shook his head. “What are you trying to prove?” he asked. She refused to answer. He went on bitterly, “I truly love our Code of Chivalry. We are taught that noblemen must take everything and say nothing. Noblemen must stand alone. Well, we’re men, and men aren’t born to stand alone.”
“Nobles are,” Alanna replied. “Or they have to. Isn’t that the same thing?”
Myles shook his head. “No, it isn’t.” He sighed. “You’ll have to fight him in the end.”
“I know, sir.”
“Alan, he’s taller and heavier than you! He’ll kill you!”
Alanna put her orange aside. “Then I fight him till he lets me alone or till I get big enough to beat him. I can’t let him walk all over me, Sir Myles! When you’re—” She stopped, horrified. She had almost admitted she was a girl! She rushed on. “When you’re little, like me, you either quit and get picked on all the time, or you stick it out. I have to stick it out.”
Myles made a face. “Run along to your supper.” She got up to go. “Alan.”
“Sir?”
“If you have to hit—hit low.”
She grinned and bowed. “Thanks, Sir Myles. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Trouble came the next day, in the stables. Alanna was there grooming Chubby; the others were gone. She was dreaming of the horse she would someday own when she heard the stable door creak.
An ugly sneer twisted Ralon’s face. “I suppose you think our talk yesterday was the last one.”
Alanna was shaking with nervous energy. “No,” she said flatly.
Ralon swaggered around her, eyeing her stocky form. “You’re too big for your breeches. You aren’t so much when you don’t have Raoul or Gary to hide behind, are you?”
She clenched her fists. “I don’t hide behind anyone,” she retorted. “And I don’t have to pick on someone littler’n me to prove what a man I am, either!”
He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her hard. “I won’t take that from you, dunghill trash!”
She hit low and hard. Ralon doubled over, clutching his lower belly. She waited, legs braced, fists ready. “Take it back. Or I’ll stuff your mouth with dung—since you like it so much!”
Mercifully no one saw her when she returned. Alanna closed her door and bolted it, keeping her head down. Coram had her bath waiting.
“Mother of Darkness,” he whispered when he saw her. “What happened?”
She glanced at the mirror. Her uniform was a bloody, dirty mess. “I fell down.”
Coram forced her to look up at him. She flinched as he wiped her face with a wet cloth. His calloused hands were surprisingly gentle. “It’s lyin’ ye are. Ye were in a fight.”
“I said I fell down.” She gasped as he touched her eye.
“Ah. The ground bloodied yer nose, split yer lip and punched ye in th’ eye, all at once. Would ye prefer to say ’twas yer pony? Th’ others didn’t say ye were hurt, so ye must’ve—fallen—in th’ stables.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said coldly.
He grinned. “I’m off t’ fetch some raw meat for yer eye where th’ ground hit ye. I’ll tell th’ lads ye’re ill.” He clapped her on the shoulder and added gruffly, “Ye’re a plucky lass. I’m proud of ye. And I think it’s time I gave ye a bit of help.”
She lay down after he left. Tears forced themselves from her eyes. This wouldn’t have happened to a real boy.
Someone tapped on the door. “Alan? It’s Raoul. Coram says you’re sick. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Can we come in?”
“No! Go away!”
“Alan—it’s Alex. What’s the matter?”
“Theres nothing the matter!” she yelled. “Just leave me alone!”
Brief silence.
