AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When the applause for such admirable death scenes concluded, Mary once again spoke. “We are doomed! Oh, who shall save us from the dreaded dragon?”
The dreaded dragon stalked around the knights lying on the floor and roared with ferocity.
And then the unexpected happened—unexpected, at least, for Ben. Little Annabel rushed to the closest dead knight and grabbed his sword. Was she going to slay the dreaded dragon herself? But no. She dashed straight to Ben.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
“You must save us!” little Annabel cried, looking up at him with pure, innocent eyes. Pure and innocent, like baby Rose.
“I want you,”he heard Gemma whisper. “I’m sorry.”
He clenched his hands, nearly forgetting this was all a piece of theater.
Annabel held out the sword to him, waiting.
What was he to do?
All eyes were upon him, awaiting his response.
He couldn’t actually spring to his feet and dash from the room like some sort of coward, not if he was going to have any remaining self-respect. He had been unable to save Gemma despite the indifference he’d felt for her at the end. He’d failed, and yet he’d felt free.
Someone cleared their throat.
Very well. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. He took the sword and stood, to the apparent relief of his audience, for they began clapping and cheering on “Sir Knight.” Rebecca played music that seemed to sound rather bold and knightly in style.
Ben approached Mr. Drake the Dragon, unsure what to do next. The old man slashed and hissed and danced around Ben, his face contorted into a comical sneer. Ben feinted—learning to fence back in school was coming in handy now, apparently—and then attempted to strike Mr. Drake with the small, wooden sword.
It was all rather ludicrous, but as the audience wasn’t embarrassed by what was happening, Ben soon found he was enjoying himself a bit, even if he did feel self-conscious. After some back and forth with Mr. Drake, and with Rebecca’s music becoming more and more dramatic, Ben stabbed at Mr. Drake, who, obviously from decades of experience on the stage, aimed his body so that Ben’s sword slid between his torso and his arm. Thus “impaled,” Mr. Drake began a death scene of his own, roaring and swaying and gnashing his teeth before finally crumpling into a heap near the boys.
Ben had slayed the dragon . . .
Mr. Drake’s legs shot straight up into the air, wriggled about comically, and fell back to the floor.
NowBen had slayed the dragon.
Mary and Annabel rushed to Ben’s side.
“You saved us! You have slain the dreaded dragon!” Mary said with great dramatic emphasis, clasping her hands together at her bosom.
“You are my hero!” Annabel exclaimed, looking up at Ben with worshipful eyes.
To hear Annabel call him her hero tore Ben’s heart; he was anything but a hero, and he knew it.
He wasn’t sure what to do or where to look now that this little scene had concluded. The adults in the family began clapping and cheering, and the boys scrambled to their feet, so Ben reached over and gave Mr. Drake a hand up, grateful for something to do that didn’t make him feel awkward in front of everyone.
The children lined up on either side of Mr. Drake and Ben. “Well done, my lord,” Mr. Drake said under his breath. “Now, take a well-deserved bow.”
Ben bowed along with the others.
He glanced at Rebecca. She stood next to one of the boys and bowed with them as one of the performers, but her eyes were on Ben—as worshipful as little Annabel’s had been.
He looked away and bowed with the others again.
* * *
Rebecca had suspected that her unconventional family might pull Ben into the dramatics that tended to occur on these sorts of occasions. She’d nearly warned him, but circumstances hadn’t really allowed for it; besides, she had been trying to contain her feelings and remain cordial but somewhat aloof with him. When she had watched little Annabel run straight to him, Rebecca’s heart had nearly stopped. It shouldn’t matter that much; had he refused to join in, Annabel would have asked her papa, Isaac, or her Uncle Lucas—or even Aunt Lavinia, who, when acting on the London stage, had performed wearing breeches countless times. There were plenty of brave knights to be found in the audience.
But hehadjoined because Annabel had asked him. Rebecca had seen him arrive at the luncheon under the watchful care of Mary, Annabel holding his hand. And Rebecca’s heart had swollen within her, from love . . . and sorrow.
