The Boy and The Man, Offer R [ereader for textbooks .txt] 📗

but was boldly interrupted by his lieutenant, who spurred his horse forward and called his attention.

"Don't disturb me when I address this savage!" His commander ordered. But the lieutenant, who was well familiar with the prince's bouts of rage and his empty threats, wasn't deterred. It took a wise man to know that steam emitted by a short-tempered man wasn't as dangerous as steam from a normally calm, cool one, and the Capitol lieutenant fit the bill.

"Sir! I have a suggestion", he insisted, and the two consorted shortly. Dansalot immediately became pleased with his lieutenant, and adopted his wise proposal. He pulled away even as the lieutenant was still speaking and said: "Prince! I bear no animosity toward your loyal Guard, which follows you despite your rash and uncultured behavior. And since there is no reason for your Guard to pay the ultimate price for your foolishness, I offer you a way to redeem yourself to them."

"Oh?" The prince said, never discounting the patient lieutenant's favorable sway over Dansalot.

"A duel. I will give up the critical advantage of my army over yours and we will cross swords, prince against prince. If you emerge victorious, my army will turn back at once. If I win- well, your men must retreat, and I will have my servant carry your head around as a personal trophy and a warning for any fool that dares dishonor me as you have done. So you see, prince, you can no longer save your head, but at least you can spare the lives of your men."

This new alternative a varying effect on the Guard. Some of the men found it abusive of their prince's honor and therefore a personal insult and buzzed in protest. Others were too hopeful of the prospect of not having their last breath squeezed out of them in the valley for no especially good reason to object. The most emphatic response was the Boy's. Well aware of Darsalot's reputation as a master swordsman without equal and doubtful of the prince's chances to survive a duel, he urged his friend to call his enemy's bluff. (The prince's skills, though they'd been honed considerably since their duel several years earlier and made him decidedly one of the kingdom's finest swordsmen, were still overrated). Honesty, our boy knew, was a highly overrated virtue, and wasn't commonly found in either ordinary men or members of royalty. There was little reason to believe Dansalot possessed it.

As a true leader does, the prince took note of the response of his men and paid particular attention to that of his Lieutenant, but finally made the decision according to his own considerations.

"I accept", he said, quite to the astonishment of at least half the men present. "But since I'm about to enter into a pact that will affect not only the King's Guard but my entire kingdom, I wish to put forth a stipulation of my own."

"Let's hear it. But I warn you, prince, don't be greedy."

"Greed is only for those who have much, which our kingdom doesn't as you very well know. It's not greed but reason that drives me, and here is my condition: as much as I would love to feel your soft flesh against the edge of my sword and see your blood stain my blade, you must replace yourself for your second best swordsman. Wait- hear me out before you refuse. I will replace myself with my second man, and thus the fairness of the duel will not be violated. The reason this adjustment must be made- and I assure you I regret it no less than do you- is twofold." At this point prince Dansalot tried to cut our prince off with a barrage of insults and a menacing gesture with his sword, but our prince enjoyed the momentum that was now his and completed his speech.

"First, since we are the ones making this agreement, it's only logical that we both stay alive to make sure it's fulfilled. My men I don't suspect, of course, but if I were to stick your head on my sword, who's to say that your duplicitous soldiers wouldn't suddenly forget of our agreement and have a change of heart? I must keep you alive to hold you accountable, and without the prospect of beheading you there remains little appeal in having a duel at all to me. Secondly- and I'm aware of the selfishness of this statement, but what's wrong with a prince looking out for himself?- I fear that once your father were to hear of your death by my doing, he will set out on a personal vendetta against me. Now, your ill-will I incur with pleasure, but not the king's! So it's really out of respect for your king that I demand the switch be made. Your second against mine; give your consent and we shall have it over with this very moment." This masterful delivery, coated with just the right amount of sugar, couldn't be refused even by the eager, complacent Dansalot. He gave his reluctant consent and summoned a soldier from the front row, who fearlessly dismounted from his horse and answered his commander's call avidly. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walked, as though aching to draw it and cut in half his unfortunate rival.

The Boy was extremely pleased with the prince's maneuver, and whispered lofty accolades in his friend's ears. It was, in fact, a genius device on the prince's part: as far as he knew he was posing a far better swordsman than himself against a far weaker rival that Dansalot.

"Thank you, brother. Look at these cowards! You must give them a show they won't forget. Dansalot's second- ha! I'm going to enjoy this a great deal. Oh, father will be so proud! But all the same, don't take it too lightly. And remember Mr. Musashi's words: a true swordsman doesn't fight with his arm; he fights with his heart", said the prince, at which point the harsh truth dawned on the poor boy.

'I'm the prince's second', he thought with a shudder. 'He made this whole maneuver because he believes I'm a much better swordsman than he, and should easily crush my opponent. But the bitter truth is just the opposite!' The Boy remained stiff on his horse, unresponsive to the prince's call.

"Lieutenant!" The Prince bellowed, and The Boy's feet slipped out of their stirrups of their own accord. His body and his mind were now in two separate, the first marching toward the stream to face his opponent and the other whirling with fear and self-reproach. After all, there was no one to blame for his sudden downfall but himself. In a matter of minutes he would lose not only his life but his dignity, and with it he would disgrace the prince and the king. Unless the Gods weighed in in his favor.

'Is this the time for me to confess?' He thought despondently. It was the most unpropitious of times to do so, in fact, but it's often the last chance to seize an opportunity that's also the least propitious. 'I can come clean now, perhaps in private with the prince. I might save my life physically, and perhaps retrieve our chances for victory. But I would lose everything of value to me, and in effect have no life. And my love! I would lose her! It's much better to die than to live with such pain and shame.'

"Boy! Face me, you coward!" A croak of a voice rattled his eardrums. His opponent, almost twice his size, was panting with bloodlust. The Boy couldn't comprehend this eagerness to bring about the death of another, but it was in fact as natural in some men as it was for vultures to circle the sky in wait for a fresh carcass. The Boy leveled his eyes at the sturdy swordsman's, and read in them a terrible hatred that would alone get the better of him in a duel. He wondered how long he would last against this beastly thing, wishing only for a quick and painless death.

"So this is the poor boy whose skills with a sword have brought him glory and turned his fate", Dansalot said smugly, as though this could be no more than an urban legend. "They say whenever he has his sword in his hand he can't be killed."

'So they know me', The Boy thought with a sudden spark of hope and courage. 'In that case perhaps I can use my reputation in my benefit.' Of course they knew him, as, unlike nations and men, rumors aren't bound by borders, rules or politics.

"It seems you would've been better off staying in your village and working the fields, boy", Dansalot continued. Then, addressing the man who was about to become our boy's killer but speaking loud enough to be heard anywhere in the valley, he added: "Hartlus! Show this boy how we treat one who has overstepped his limits!" Another roar of support erupted from the heart of the Capitals' formation.

And that was when our boy realized his final and only chance of saving himself. 'I'll use their scorn of the poor to our advantage', he thought. 'It'll be an outrageous undertaking, but if it fails I shall soon die anyhow, so what's another minor bruise to my ego?'

Indeed, there was nothing at which he excelled more than wriggling his way out of tight spots, regardless of whether it required him to arouse outrage and trample codes of decorum. And this now was just about as tight a spot as he could've wedged himself into. Why, then, not count on his brilliant cunning ability rather than his poor swordsmanship to extract himself out of it? That he would undermine the prince's authority and put the life of a fellow Guard member in danger was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

He took a very deep breath, as for some reason a great amount of oxygen increases our capacity for courage, and laid out his little plot:

"Ahoy, prince Dansalot! That's a fine horse you ride. Now that I see from up close I realize that it's the finest I've ever laid eyes on."

Dansalot, who thought himself far superior to our prince, was infuriated at having been addressed by a petty boy that wore the feather of Lieutenant on his hat. But his fury was somewhat diffused by the flattery.

"Of course it is. Your little kingdom could never sustain such a fine animal. I could bring in more gold coins for it than I could for your paltry life, I'm sure", Dansalot replied with his complacent grin. He was a fairly handsome man, The Boy realized, and with his pompous air and legendary reputation surely had his way with the women of his kingdom.

The Boy was solid as a stone in both voice and demeanor, which was made possible since he was for the moment not himself. He was a confident, bold, resourceful Lieutenant who was bargaining a deal rather than begging for his life. And at present the bold Lieutenant decided it was time to add a dash of provocation to the brew. By so doing he would jar Dansalot's nerves, and jarred nerves make for rash decision.

"Yes, you're probably right. And that's why I propose the following. Since you have the better horses and we the better swordsmen, let's make an exchange to level out the battlefield. I will substitute myself for our number three, and he will duel against your uncouth Hartlus here."

"Ha! Your number three?" Dansalot and Hartlus blurted out as one.

"Patience, gentlemen, for only a fool passes down rash judgment. In exchange for so tipping the odds in your favor, you will raise your stakes. If you win, nothing has changed. But if you lose, you dismount from your horses. All of you. The horses stay with us and you, gentlemen, return to your kingdom by foot." From this point forward The Boy had but to commit